Shooting on Sunshine
IGN’s Ryan McCaffrey had the temerity to suggest everything was on the line for Xbox, with this next instalment in the Halo franchise. The man wasn’t wrong. It feels good, wholesome, to launch Halo software and experience trademarks that the game’s original developer Bungie doubled down on to create Destiny: guns you can feel rock both your controller grip and your ears — lush forests you’d picnic in if you weren’t busy trying to not get lasered in the face — and even the goofy way Spartans fly all over the place when rocket ammo upends your world. This is how you advance twenty years, from a genre-defining revolution (2001’s Halo: Combat Evolved) to a humble and assured update of all the things people loved about the IP in the first place.
I’ll beat any artificially-intelligent army on HARD, Nazis, aliens, bring ‘em, but the pace at which most online multiplayer shootouts proceed continues to astound me. I’m very slowly getting back into gaming, as a more shameless casual than ever. A slug or two in MLB: The Show; that new shooting meter (Christ, again?) in NBA 2K; a couple pick-sixes in Madden — but absolutely nothing prepares you for the sheer relentlessness of the online shootout, which can make even an environment as stable and measured as Halo’s seem as zany as Call of Duty’s zombie mode.
I’m not necessarily exaggerating. But 343 Industries’ multiplayer arena, which has pre-empted the single-player drop slated for December 8th, does seem like it’ll be a lot easier to negotiate in time. A tidy tutorial shows off a landscape that may not look most glamorous on an Xbox One; but it nails the organics the Gears crash course does, when it so very politely welcomes you back home. You’re assigned a digital ‘butler’ that emotes with cybernetic eyes, a non-issue that nevertheless helps casuals like me feel seen in what is a cruel, cruel world. You’re cordially invited to take a couple weapons out for a spin. Their cries are satisfying, and so is (in battle) the sight of incinerating someone in three or four shots — when you can actually place them.
My kill ratio is and has been downright embarrassing. Everyone else on these frag-fests seems to be moving and upgrading weapons constantly, and barely ever has to use the available terrain to make like a well-drilled soldier. Halo Infinite doesn’t re-spawn you carelessly into the middle of meleé, or reward players (yet) that are willing to spend actual money on carrying serious heat. I just can’t keep up with you kids, and what’s most devastating is how eager I am to jump right back into the fray. Such brutal punishment has honestly never felt this good. I’ll gladly stuff a turkey and everything, for single, meaningless kills, right before I’m sent straight back to hell.
The industry’s feedback seems positive so far — so now everyone’s waiting to see what the sneak preview of Infinite’s multiplayer mode means for the full campaign. I’m quietly optimistic, as someone that’s going to slide the difficulty up to HARD, about an experience that already appears to lack the odd niggles of Halo 5. Infinite’s laser beams crackle out your barrel, and don’t look or feel like expired liquorice. It took me seven minutes to realise all the other combatants in a training mode skirmish were a bunch of 343-rendered bots. They could have been more aggressive, easily, but I found their responses to hostility in general quite relatable.
Most importantly, arguably, Halo: Infinite has a sense of humour. Not for nothing, I imagine, it contains an awful lot of sunshine — as if 343 have remembered all they’re required to do is deliver a pretty awesome video game. I guess I’ll see you on the other side of the time-portal, and I’ll try not to call my various assailants ‘bitches’ when they don’t see me coming.
