Some might say I’ve spent way too much time playing Halo. Some might say there’s no such thing as “spending too much time playing Halo.” No matter the case, Halo’s a part of my life.
My great journey started in 2004. People were lining up for the launch of a little game called Halo 2, foaming at the mouth for the next chapter of Master Chief’s story.
I was not one of those people.
In fact, I barely even knew the game. I knew some of my friends played it, but my knowledge didn’t go much further than that. I was 12 years old, in my first year of high school and saving up for a PlayStation 2. Through an unexplainable stroke of fate, however, the console I ended up buying was not Sony’s wunderkind. Instead, I came home with a big transparent Xbox, two controllers and Halo 2. Eagerly, I plugged the console into my old-school TV, inserted the disc and was wowed. I jumped into the campaign on Easy difficulty, not really knowing what to expect. It was the first time I played a first-person shooter. I got my ass kicked, again and again. The old saying “pain is the best teacher” definitely rang true here, though, and a week later I watched the credits roll, feeling both proud and satisfied. I didn’t understand the story, but I understood one thing — I wanted more.
My friends came over a day later. Playing split-screen, they introduced me to the frantic fun of Halo’s multiplayer suite. There was no Xbox Live — only four friends and an Xbox. We tried all the crazy gametypes the game offered, from Slayer on Coagulation to Phantom Pistols on Waterworks. We laughed as the game occasionally glitched, painting a huge Spartan in the sky or having the occupant of a destroyed Banshee fall to his doom in circles. As much fun as shooting my friends in their virtual faces was, however, I realized my true passion lay with the game’s epic storyline. But I was just a noob, I barely even knew what the story was about. I wanted to witness the beginning.
I borrowed a friend’s copy of Halo: Combat Evolved. As I battled my way through the lush valleys, snowy canyons and misty swamps of Installation 04, the pieces of the story finally clicked together. Master Chief’s relationship with Cortana, the threat of the Halo rings, the origins of the Flood — I realized I was fighting for the survival of not just humanity, but every living being in the galaxy. For a 13-year old boy, those daunting odds were appealing. Halo’s campaign quickly became my favorite means of escapism, my way to temporarily leave the stressful life as a teenager behind me. The multiplayer proved an excellent excuse to invite friends over and just have fun.
On a fateful day in May of 2006, the next chapter in the great journey finally manifested itself. 14-Year old me sat down behind the computer, eagerly absorbing every bit of information to come out of Microsoft’s press briefing. My computer at the time couldn’t handle the rough and dirty of a livestream, but by mashing the F5 button at a velocity that put even the speed of light to shame, I still managed to feel like part of the crowd. As the briefing drew to a close, GameSpot’s (I know, I know) news headline changed again: “Halo 3 Announced.” The trailer started off with a loud piano stroke. I immediately got goosebumps. Halo 3 was coming, though it was still a long time away.
As I waited for the game, I was introduced to one of the finest communities to grace the internet’s many tubes: HBO. Run by the omnipotent Wu and his merry group of Halo fans, it was the place to discuss anything Halo-related. I eventually conjured up the courage to make my first post, and it didn’t take long for me to feel like part of the community. Waiting for Halo 3 became slightly more bearable with friends, both virtual and in the flesh at my side. “Halo” became my definition of hype.
When Halo 3 was finally released, even my non-gamer friends were relieved. Perhaps they thought I’d finally stop talking about it. This text is living (well, not really) proof of their wrong-ness. Halo 3’s story, perhaps not as fulfilling as I’d hoped, was still great. My friends and I loved the multiplayer. Forge was a pretty neat tool. What I loved most about Halo 3, though, was its Theater mode. I always had a bit of a passion for photography and filmmaking, and Halo 3 allowed me to do exactly that. I made an obscene amount of screenshots, but I had no place to share them. I wanted to do something special. And then I remembered BOLL’s HALOramas. I knew what I wanted to do. It was on that day, in June 2008, that Views from the Edge was born.
An equally obscene amount of panoramas followed, some of them better than others. I got criticisms, tips, and I learned. In that time, Bungie announced two new games. I’d grown up a bit since the day Halo 3 was revealed, so while I was still excited, I did a much better job at hiding it — much to the relief of my friends, I might add. ODST came out during my final year of high school, as life was ramping up. Though I had less and less time to play, Halo still provided that escapism I often needed. I even found the time to make some new panoramas once in a while. Sure, there were other games (I’m apparently the biggest Elder Scrolls fan on HBO), but Halo was the one game I always ended up going back to.
September 2010: I had just graduated from high school, and I was enjoying three months of a well-deserved summer break. It was during this opportune timeframe that Reach came out. For the first time, I had the chance to sit down and beat the game in one sitting. Despite its flaws, the game still drew me in, only letting go eleven hours later as Noble Six drew his final breath. It was also the first Halo game where I regularly started playing with a lot of HBO folks. I expanded my community horizons by joining GAF, the most wretched (and yet delightful) hive of scum and villainy there has ever been. As Halo 1 and 2 had kept me company during my first year of high school, Reach keeps me company during my first year of university. And what a year it’s been. Amid the chaos, Views from the Edge was reborn. I even made a few maps, some better than others.
I won’t elongate this already lengthy piece with any details, but this year has been rather tough on me so far. Even my will to play Halo has taken a hit. Even as the game remained unplayed for weeks on end however, I still found myself frequenting the community sites I had grown to love over the years. I wasn’t as active as I used to be, but I still took part in discussions ranging from, “Halo: Reach is not canon,” to, “Armor Lock sucks.” I even won a coveted star nametag for my panoramic efforts. Even when I wasn’t playing, my passion for Halo gave me something to do. Which brings me to the reason I started writing this exercise in reading attention in the first place.
Basically, I wanted to say thanks. Thanks to the wonderful people at HBO, with whom I’ve laughed, argued and killed thousands of Covenant foot soldiers with. Thanks to the wonderful people at HaloGAF, whose hilarious conversations have often made me laugh out loud. Thanks to 343 Industries for continuing to take care of this beloved universe. Heck, I might as well thank Ensemble Studios for Halo Wars while I’m at it. Most of all, however, thanks to Bungie. If it hadn’t been for you guys, my life might’ve been very different. I could’ve been a rockstar, or a dictator, or more realistically, a nineteen-year old that didn’t play Halo. For good or ill, I am where I am partly because of that little game you made.
7hanks.
-BlueNinja
(BlueNinja also wanted to include one of his beautiful panoramas, and we at AoG are more than happy to oblige! Don’t forget to check out more of his awesome work at Views From The Edge)
