Do I rush in at great risk and go for a melee attack that could easily kill, or do I retreat with a frag grenade to cover my escape? The game offers just enough time to make that decision, and understand it, before seeing the results.Īnd the consistency of its systems-the exacting procedural physics of its bouncy grenades and even bouncier vehicles, the way jumping momentum can be manipulated in creative ways-makes play even more unpredictable. Combat is slow, careful, with powerful player shields that take time to drain, turning each fight into a duel with real tactical options.
Halo's power has always been in the simple solidity of its constituent pieces, and in the crackling unpredictability that comes from how those pieces permutate. Halo Online, one of the most fascinating unofficial games I've ever seen, a pitch-perfect fan-led rebuild of so much of what made Halo 3 special. (The company produced a couple of very good side story games before leaving Microsoft and bequeathing Halo to a new developer, 343 Industries, whose two entries in the series have been much more poorly received.) It's not merely nostalgia, though: there simply isn't anything that feels or sounds quite like Halo in the modern gaming landscape. The nostalgic appeal of Halo's simple, lush art and the chaotic energy of its sci-fi combat is immense-even 11 years after the release of that third game, the final numbered entry in the series to be released by its original developer, Bungie. And Halo 3, the Xbox 360 debut of the series, was the pinnacle of that sensation, the height of Halo's power and wide appeal. Built for wide-ranging multiplayer in a way most console games weren't, working off the backbone of the young Xbox Live online platform, Halo was a sensation. For a certain period of time, for a certain generation of players, Halo was the only social videogame that mattered.