Halo can be played in head-to-head deathmatchs. Two men enter, one man leaves. The other man is a red stain on the floor.
I’m a little too accurate with the grenades for Dan’s taste so we stuck to story mode, where we team up to fight off an alien race called the “Covenant”.
At one point in the second chapter Command provided us with a Warthog all-terrain-vehicle.
But they didn’t provide us with driving lessons. It’s a good thing the Warthog doesn’t take damage from running into the scenery. Sometimes it seemed like the driver was a blind man who had to feel his way around the valley with the bumper.
As usual, Dan drove and I manned the 50 caliber machine gun. Just like real life. When Dan can’t tailgate he gets a little confused, at one point we careened past two alien soldiers and into a creek, under a waterfall and jammed behind a couple of rocks.
Dan tried to get the Warthog unstuck while the aliens up on the bank pelted us with plasma beams, taunted us and otherwise reminded us that they were the superior race. And I couldn’t raise the 50 cal high enough to return fire.
Eventually, Dan’s maneuvering somehow flipped the Warthog and we spilled out of the vehicle. I used this opportunity to take out the aliens with a couple of grenades while Dan set to righting the Warthog, crushing me in the process.
“Hey, buddy! I think the Warthog is leaking oil. Why don’t you take a closer look at the undercarriage?”
On another occasion, I had jumped out of the Warthog to investigate some rocks. As I was returning to the vehicle Dan asked aloud, “I wonder if I can run you over?” This preceded a short but decisive chase that answered Dan’s question in the affirmative.
Later, I managed to lose the Warthog for good, by driving it off a cliff. After dying under it’s wheels twice, I consider this self-defense.
Halo’s a fun game and the Xbox rocks. But after 12 hours, I’m ready to go outside or something…