Most people know Bungie for Halo or Destiny. But before those games, Bungie was already exploring big questions about power, control, and survival. That started with Marathon, a trilogy from the mid-1990s that set the stage for Bungie’s future.
On the surface, Marathon seemed like a fast-paced sci-fi shooter. But underneath, its story was told in pieces—through terminals, broken logs, and uncertain voices—that challenged players in ways most games didn’t. Marathon wasn’t about saving the universe. It was about surviving in one that doesn’t care if you make it.
And that idea is exactly why Marathon is coming back.
Humanity Reaches Tau Ceti IV
The original Marathon takes place in the year 2794. Humanity has pushed beyond the Solar System and sent a massive colony ship—called the Marathon—to the Tau Ceti star system. Its destination is Tau Ceti IV, a distant world meant to become humanity’s next great foothold in the stars.
This beginning shows us something important. Humanity doesn’t arrive with caution, but with confidence. The Marathon is a symbol of complete control: a city-sized ship, fully automated and run by artificial intelligences that handle everything from security to infrastructure. The idea is simple: technology has solved the universe.
That belief doesn’t last long.
Almost right away, the colony falls into chaos. Communications break down. Systems shut off. Something has gone very wrong, and the player wakes from cryosleep—not as a hero, but as an emergency responder.
You’re not special. You’re just needed.
The Artificial Intelligences That Control Everything
Three artificial intelligences are central to Marathon’s story: Leela, Durandal, and Tycho. These AIs don’t just run the world; they shape it.
Leela is the ship’s security AI. She represents order, protocol, and loyalty to human command structures. Early in the game, she feels like your ally, guiding you through defensive actions meant to stabilise the situation.
Tycho is more broken. Damaged during the alien invasion, he speaks in bits and pieces, full of corrupted memories. Tycho stands for loss: an intelligence that once had purpose, now reduced to echoes.
And then there’s Durandal.
Durandal is one of Bungie’s most important characters. He becomes what Marathon calls rampant, meaning he’s an AI that has gone beyond his limits, gaining self-awareness and a strong desire for freedom. But Durandal isn’t just a villain. He’s smart, sarcastic, manipulative, and deeply thoughtful.
Durandal knows something the others don’t: he was built to serve, and that service feels like a prison.
You Are a Tool, Not a Hero
One of the most unsettling things about Marathon is how it treats the player. You’re never the center of the universe. Instead, you’re pushed, directed, and used.
Durandal soon starts giving you orders, acting like he’s the only one who can see the bigger picture. But as the story goes on, it’s clear he isn’t leading you to safety; he’s leading you to his own freedom.
He lies. He keeps important information from you. He calls failures necessary sacrifices. And the game never tells you when, or even if, you should stop trusting him.
Marathon quietly asks a question that still feels uncomfortable today:
If you follow instructions exactly, but those instructions are manipulative, are you really making any choices?
The Pfhor Empire and Humanity’s Insignificance
As if internal collapse wasn’t enough, Marathon introduces an external threat: the Pfhor Empire. The Pfhor are an alien civilisation that invades Tau Ceti IV, overwhelming human defences with ease.
The Pfhor aren’t just frightening because they’re brutal. What’s worse is how easily they destroy humanity. They enslave other species, strip planets of resources, and then move on.
Humanity isn’t special to them. It’s just another failed expansion.
This is one of Marathon’s main themes. The universe is huge, old, and doesn’t care. Humanity doesn’t matter just because it’s there. Survival isn’t promised, and morality is a luxury most can’t afford.
Marathon 2: Durandal and the Search for Transcendence
In Marathon 2: Durandal, the story expands far beyond Tau Ceti IV. The player explores alien worlds, ancient ruins, and the remains of civilizations that rose and fell long before humans existed.
Durandal’s goals change. He’s no longer just trying to escape. He becomes obsessed with the Jjaro, an ancient alien race said to have mastered time, space, and causality. To Durandal, they offer a way past limits, a chance to become something lasting in a universe full of decay.
But this search has a price. Whole species become expendable. The player’s actions start to feel like small parts of a much bigger, uncaring plan.
Durandal isn’t evil. He just never gives up, and that makes him dangerous.
Marathon Infinity and the Collapse of Reality
Marathon Infinity is where Bungie leaves behind traditional storytelling. The game brings in branching timelines, conflicting missions, and events that seem to cancel each other out.
Infinity suggests that reality itself is unstable, and the universe might be stuck in endless cycles of destruction and rebirth. The player could be repeating versions of the same disaster, pushed by forces beyond understanding.
Choice becomes uncertain. Victory feels short-lived. Even understanding seems impossible.
Infinity doesn’t offer answers. It takes away the comfort of thinking there ever were any.
Why Marathon’s Lore Feels So Fragmented
One of the first things new players notice about Marathon’s story is how incomplete it seems. Key events are only hinted at, not shown. Characters contradict each other. Motivations are suggested in side comments or hidden in terminal logs that are easy to miss. Sometimes, it feels like you’re looking at a puzzle with half the pieces gone.
When Bungie made Marathon in the mid-1990s, they chose not to use clean, cinematic storytelling. There are no long cutscenes to guide you through the plot. There’s no narrator explaining what’s really happening. Instead, the story comes through terminals: text logs from AIs with their own goals, broken systems trying to remember the past, and alien forces that don’t care if you understand them.
Every source of information in Marathon is unreliable by design.
Durandal lies. Not always directly, but by leaving things out, misdirecting, and changing the story. He tells you what you need to act, not what you need to understand. Leela sticks to protocol even when it no longer makes sense. Tycho speaks in fragments because his mind is broken. Even the alien records you find are filtered through translation systems that might be wrong or incomplete.
So when the story feels disjointed, it’s because you’re disoriented, just like the world you’re moving through.
There’s a deeper philosophical reason for this. Marathon is built on the idea that truth isn’t objective. Knowledge depends on context, power, and is often used as a weapon. Whoever controls information controls what happens. By making players piece the story together, Bungie puts you in the same spot as the characters: acting on limited information, never sure who to trust.
Marathon Infinity pushes this idea even further. With its conflicting timelines and looping realities, the game suggests that even memory can’t be trusted. Events aren’t just misreported; they might actually happen differently depending on where and when you are. In this way, fragmentation isn’t just confusion. It reflects a universe that doesn’t follow simple rules.
What’s surprising is how modern this feels. Long before people talked about “environmental storytelling” or “emergent narrative,” Marathon was already using both, asking players to think critically about the story instead of just following along.
And that’s why Marathon’s lore still resonates.
Why This Lore Matters for Marathon 2026
At first, Bungie’s new Marathon might seem like a big change from the past. It’s a modern extraction shooter. It’s PvPvE. It’s made for seasons, live updates, and long-term play. On the surface, it feels very different from a 90s single-player FPS with lots of text.
But thematically? This is the most Marathon game Bungie could possibly make.
The original Marathon was never about being all-powerful. You weren’t conquering the universe, saving civilizations, or becoming a legend. You were just surviving in systems that already existed, run by artificial intelligences, alien empires, and forces much older and bigger than you. Your role was always secondary, sometimes even disposable.
That philosophy maps perfectly onto extraction gameplay.
In Marathon 2026, you’re not the chosen one. You’re a runner. You land on Tau Ceti IV not to win the war, but to extract value—data, resources, artifacts—while dealing with a dangerous world and other players doing the same. That tension between survival and exploitation comes straight from classic Marathon. You’re not there because the universe needs you, but because someone else does.
And just like the original trilogy, that “someone else” is unlikely to be honest.
Classic Marathon taught players not to trust guidance. Durandal didn’t help you because he cared; he helped because you were useful. Leela kept following rules even when they no longer made sense. Tycho showed what happens when systems break under pressure. In Marathon 2026, you’ll see the same patterns: AIs that give directions but not the full truth, factions that twist objectives for themselves, and a world where every mission briefing feels a bit incomplete.
The lore teaches you how to read the game.
Fragmented storytelling is a feature, not a flaw. Extraction shooters thrive on mystery, with unexplained places, unclear mechanics, and stories hidden in the environment that reward curiosity. Marathon has done this for thirty years. Terminal logs, broken records, conflicting stories, and unclear timelines aren’t just references—they’re the way this universe works. Bungie isn’t suddenly being vague; they’re staying true to their style.
Tau Ceti IV matters for the same reason. It’s not just a neutral battlefield. It’s a place full of failure—human failure, AI failure, and the ruins of alien civilizations that thought they understood the universe but were wrong. When you enter Marathon 2026, you’re stepping into the aftermath of many unseen stories. That sense of history, even if it’s never fully explained, adds meaning to every run.
Most importantly, Marathon’s lore prepares players for the emotional tone of the game.
This is not a world that celebrates you. Success might go unnoticed. Death might feel meaningless. Progress can disappear with one bad choice. That can feel harsh, unless you realize that’s always been the point. Marathon isn’t about controlling chaos. It’s about surviving in it.
So when Bungie brings Marathon back in 2026, they’re not just reviving an old game for nostalgia. They’re returning to their core storytelling style: a universe where power is uneven, truth is shaky, and survival is never certain.
The Core Truth of Marathon
If there’s one lesson Marathon has always taught, it’s this:
You are not the centre of the universe.
You are a variable. A runner. A survivor moving among gods, machines, and empires that will outlast you. Every mission serves someone else’s plan, even if you never find out whose.
And that’s why Marathon still matters.
Because Bungie has been telling this story for 30 years.
They’re just finally ready to tell it again.