The Halo Nation is very much a microcosm of the world in which we live. All of the archetypes that we encounter in our first lives are also present in the game. Leaders. Followers. Saints. Bullies. Veterans. Newbies. Zealots. Naysayers. Friends. Jackasses. You are as likely to find them traveling your favorite matchmaking playlist as you are to see them wandering through your own neighborhood.
To riff on this notion, the gamers who don Bungie’s rare armor permutation are like the Hollywood celebrities who get chased through the streets by ravenous paparazzi in the employ of fine journalistic outlets like TMZ. The obvious difference is that paparazzi don’t shoot people with machine guns.
Just like over-exposed celebrities, someone who bemoans the attention that they get for wearing Recon in Halo 3 is lying to you. It would be far easier for those people to revert to their original helmet than it would be for [say] Leo DiCaprio to settle down in a Kansas City suburb and open a pub.
So why tolerate the endless messages? Why invite a stream of Friend Requests, invitations to chat, and threats to hack one’s account? What gain could possibly come from being repeatedly rolled over in the deadbox by curious opponents who want a closer look?
I can’t speak for everyone. For this gamerblogger, however, the interest is purely tactical. What’s that? Recon armor for tactical gain? You read me right… and I need all the help I can get. Anyone who plays with me on a regular basis can tell you that they don’t invite me into their party lobby on the merit of my Battle Rifle.
In the absence of “sick snipa skillz”, I use every tool present in Halo 3 for tactical gain. Every corner of the map gets a catchy nickname to flower team-chat with pneumonic devices. Armor color and HUD callsigns become battlefield indicators of squad loadout; for easy reference between Offense, Defense, Snipers, and Pilots.
And Recon? Well, Recon, my good friends, is a lightning rod for idiots. We all know who those gamers are. They come in many varieties. To illustrate what I mean, you are invited to look in on this recent match on High Ground…
Here we have an Elite with an eye for rare battle dress. He just scored himself a kill in what battle-hardened veterans would affecionately refer to as “Territory 2”. Does he spin on his heel to check his six for the next would-be assailant?
Nope! Instead of replaying this moment again and again and again in the Theatre, he spends crucial seconds during the actual game to admire the lines of his prey.
Big mistake, you hunch-backed savage! Perhaps you didn’t receive the memo that SPARTANs travel in packs. Have an earful of Mauler-shot, courtesy of the TTL Gunslingers.
Thank you for pausing in a war zone to smell the roses! We appreciate your low threshold for distraction. While you may have been amused in the beating of a dead horse, it looks as if the joke is on you.
Fortunately for Blue Team, it would seem that Red Team is packed with Elites that are attracted to shiny objects. This one just took down that very same Recon Marine in the vicinity of what the locals call “Rocket Spawn”.
As part of his post-kill celebration, he invites his prey to a tea party. If you are ever invited to one of these parties, it is advised that you say “No”. Sadly, these imfamous parties are a far too common ritual among many gamers, whether they drink tea or not.
Of course, a virtual combat scenario is hardly the venue for weilding a teabag. Mere seconds can mean the difference between life and respawn. Among the objectives in the current matchmaking playlist, no additional points are awarded for humping another gamer’s corpse.
What’s more, you never know where that opponent of yours may respawn. The last thing you would want is for them to watch you do your nasty dance from the deadbox, only to materialize somewhere behind you.
If that were to happen, they would know your exact position. There would be nothing to stop them from returning to the scene of your sick little crime to exact a measure of vengeance in response to your poor sportsmaship.
That opponent of yours could literally march right up behind you, using his own dead form as a lure, and introduce the non-business end of his Assault Rifle to your reptilian skull. Odds are, that would smart. Odds are, that could even kill you!
OUCH! How did that happen? There you were, minding your own business – with your crotch in another man’s face – when the same exact man showed up and pistol whipped you across the back of your misshapen head.
No one wants to go out like that. That would leave any gamer feeling foolish. Wouldn’t it?