I'm just warning you all up front, this is gonna get WEIRD.

I think the game's trailers are the closest thing we've gotten to the true nature of Guardians. They're all light-hearted and devil-may-care in a way that the rest of the game seemingly isn't. And I think I know why. The world that the Guardians live in (the universe, really), is a dark place full of evil, destruction, and doom. It encroaches on all sides, slowly squeezing the will to live out of what few sentient species remain. In this morass of annihilation exist our guardians. Immortal. Powerful. Horrifying.

Really, really think about the nature of the guardians. We are an undead army of super soldiers that materialize at a whim and leave only havoc in our wake. We kill each other for sport. We dance on the graves of our enemies. And we stride, fearlessly, into the gaping maw of time itself.

To any normal human, we are like gods.

Though, like the gods of ages past, our motivations are our own. We do not fight to save humanity. We do not fight to destroy evil. We fight because, in all honesty, we want bigger guns.

Stare into the abyss and see what stares back at you, Guardian. Death is meaningless to you. Everyone you ever knew or cared about died hundreds of years ago. You have been awoken, against your will, in a future that values you only in so far as you are able to fight and die and fight again. What does victory have for you, but emptiness? Your purpose is clear, your abilities focused towards that singular goal: Kill EVERYTHING.

And so you have bonded with a handful of other Guardians, similar to yourself. Angry, perhaps, at the cruel fate that has brought you here. In despair, certainly, for the golden age that you once knew. And vengeful, very vengeful, towards those who would turn control of your destiny away from you. And so you seek power and glory. Urging yourself into the void to capture battlestations, destroy armies, even slay Gods and all for the single minded goal of achieving even more power with which to unleash your wrath upon the universe. Who cares what the odds are? For when you have an infinite number of attempts, every goal is achievable.

So face your foes, laughing at their futility, and charge ahead, careless of your safety, guardian. You will always return. You owe the universe nothing, and it owes you everything. You are the joke and the punchline. And one day, perhaps, you may find a gun big enough to blow the whole damn thing up. Wouldn't that be grand?

Now then, let's listen to a little Zepplin.