I used to consider myself a bad Halo player. I would play for hours on end, only to consistently find myself deep in the red. My opponents and teammates alike would cruelly harass me in the postgame lobbies.
For months I kept digital records of all of the gamertags that had taunted me. After all, I put forth my very best effort in every game I played; what right did they have to mock me thusly? Unfortunately, I quickly ran out of disk space and begrudgingly abandoned this encyclopedic endeavor.
On the plus side, ceasing my bookkeeping operations freed up, on average, 2 additional hours of playtime each day. Elated, I committed more firmly than ever to mold myself into a supreme Halo combatant. Without surcease, I labored and toiled through the same 3 maps night after night after night after night.
Not quite 3 months ago, I thought I had finally reached a new apex. For the first time in my Halo career, I had reached double digits in the kills column! I will admit that I notched a staggering number of “miscalculations” (my entertainment therapist has recently advised me to avoid using the word “death” in conjunction with Halo) while accomplishing this great victory, but I nonetheless looked forward to the respect due to effusively flow my way in the postgame lobby.
They still laughed. They took my finest hour, turned it back, and laughed! Discarding my usual cantations, I made a hasty departure and proceeded to angrily submit negative reviews on the entirety of the opposing team. This did not completely quench my rage, but it at the least diminished it to the point where I could play another game.
Oh, the folly! The game began disastrously, and it went downhill from there. Even as the very end of the game rapidly neared, I had failed to score a single point for my team. Their laughter tormented me as I desperately lobbed grenades, vainly pursuing that tangible moment, only to watch in great suffering as they bounced off of the wrong wall and lowered my score into the double digits.
As the enemy closed in on their decisive and humiliating victory, I reignited the rage I had found in the previous contest. In vain, I hopelessly sought to suppress my emotions, to endure the defeat, to accept my fate. I could not! For the first time in my lengthy Halo career, I yielded to rage and quit a game.
One day and one new controller later, I strapped back on the Mark V helmet that I chose completely independently (and most certainly not copying any other player) and returned to the battlefield. Following a few uneventful skirmishes, I met someone who completely transformed my view of myself.
After the game ended, I found myself waiting for the inevitable laughter from my teammates. I heard nothing from them at first, though. I patiently waited for them to plug in their headsets, awaiting their merciless taunts and such. Never, though, did they lash upon me even the faintest hint of scorn or judgment! Confused, I sought an explanation from the teammates who had carried me to victory.
“Well,” one of them said, “you only had 1 kill, and you didn’t have any assists, but you did a lot for our team. Much more than you must realize, in fact.”
Bewildered, I suspected a trap. After wracking my mind for any hidden punchline they might wield in secret, I finally remembered how I had betrayed 2 of my teammates simultaneously with a rocket launcher while I was falling off of the level.
They only continued to cultivate my self-confidence, however. “I did get a little angry when you betrayed us,” another of them confessed, “but I harnessed that anger and went on a killing frenzy. I can’t thank you enough for betraying me!”
The third member offered the most ringing endorsement of them all: “We can’t thank you enough for the work you did in that game, you know? You repeatedly ran into the middle of the other team, distracting them and absorbing all of their ammo. You’re a damage sponge: you take all of their punishment, freeing the rest of us to clean up the aftermath while the other team is stuck reloading. Thank you so very much!”
When I play Halo these days, I take so much pride in my miscalculations. Do you know that I went -25 in a game just last night? I saved that one in my fileshare. Now that I truly understand the vitality of my role as a damage sponge, I feel completely rejuvenated. I have never taken such pride in my skills as I do after that one fateful postgame conversation.
Please… the next time you have a bad game of Halo, just think about the contributions you made in the process!
