(Originally published to Glitchwave on 1/18/2026)
[Image from glitchwave.com]
Halo: Combat Evolved
Developer: Bungie
Published: Microsoft
Genre(s): First-Person Shooter
Platforms: Xbox, PC
Release Date: November 15, 2001
To issue a disclaimer, be prepared for me to compare Halo to Star Wars more than a handful of times throughout this review. The first box to mark off on the comparison checklist is the space opera construct that serves as Halo’s thematic foundation. The future century in which Halo is set may exceed far past the mortal threshold of anyone who existed when the game was released, but its story ostensibly doesn’t take place in a galaxy far, far away. Earth is still the central hub of human activity in Halo’s ultra-advanced universe, but the governing forces have expanded the presence of the planet’s dominant species to regions beyond the comforting envelopment of our atmosphere. With Earth’s imperialism efforts in the final frontier, they seem to have angered an alien race known as the Covenant, whose contentions with mankind have escalated to the extent of an all-out war that could exterminate the human race as a potential forfeiture. A watershed moment occurs in this struggle against the Covenant when the crew members of the “Pillar of Autumn” space marine task force discover a peculiar, mechanical ring arching over a sizable swathe of space that they dub as the titular “Halo.” Believing it to be a cataclysmic superweapon, the greater military unit of Earth initiates a mission to procure control over “Halo” before the Covenant receive a chance to use it and erase all traces of human existence from the universal equation. I swear, I’m not drawing parallels to Star Wars simply because there is a war being waged over the starry stretches of the greater cosmos. What George Lucas’ brainchild effectively achieves is a rich sense of lore building, intriguing the player to seek out deeper, expanded answers pertaining to the ambiguous or contextually obscured elements of the plot. Halo arouses the same sense of curiosity by catapulting the player into a plot of dire conditions, but one where certain details, such as where the conflict between the Covenant stems from or how “Halo” appeared at all as a ginormous, deadly eyesore, are not immediately evident from what is displayed. It may require additional, outside research in order to fully grasp the full extent of the story’s scope, but ideally, seeking out more information is the greatest indication of the player’s engagement with the material.
Unfortunately for us humans, the Covenant army outnumbers the ranks of Earthling military forces by approximately one-hundred aliens per proud human soldier. Fear not, fellow meatbags, for the UNSC possesses a trump card assured to balance the askew scales of battle in Earth’s favor. Unsealing a hypersleep chamber, whose acrylic glass cover should read “break in case of emergency,” lies a man already donning his strikingly green suit of space armor whom the UNSC crewmen refer to as Master Chief–a protagonist who sincerely needs no introduction. As far as video game mascots are concerned, there isn’t a video game character that represents their company’s console-exclusive brand as effectively as Master Chief, except for Mario and also Sonic when Sega was still a contender in the console wars. If sales statistics prove anything, Master Chief is arguably the most threatening rival that the mushroom-chomping plumber has ever had. If anything, Master Chief’s meteoric rise to the apex echelons of gaming glory proves that combating Mario is most effective when the rival in question isn’t attempting to bank off of his accessibility and/or family-friendly appeal. Besides the “M” rated connotations that come with a bloody war and the generally risque gun-oriented violence associated with the FPS genre, Master Chief’s decorum as a console representative is much more dignified. If Mario is comparable to Charlie Chaplin’s winsome tramp character meant to elicit lighthearted smiles and laughter, then Master Chief is conversely an ubermasculine action hero meant to be the poster-plastered man crush of millions. Then again, Master Chief isn’t the tornado of testosterone sucking on cigars and adding every woman in sight to his already abundant harem by throwing greenbacks in their faces like Duke Nukem. The prevailing sentiment behind Master Chief’s appeal is certainly similar to the general coolness factor associated with other FPS protagonists, but the air of maturity he exudes aligns him more with a “respectable cool,” like a laidback, yet passionately involved older authority figure, such as a teacher or coach. Well, Master Chief’s stoic, yet confident supersoldier demeanor seems to resonate strongly with Halo’s greater fanbase, who tend to idolize him to the same extent as football fans fawning over Tom Brady. As a civilian outside of the warzone, he’d probably prove to be an extraordinarily agreeable human being like the larger-than-life Patriots quarterback is reputed to be. He’d probably be gentlemanly, uplifting, proactively positive, and remember the birthdays of acquaintances he’s only spoken to a handful of times. But what’s one thing I know for certain about Bungie’s exalted savior of a futuristic Earth society without any speculation on his personality? He’s a fucking borefest. Sorry, “John-117,” but I prefer the FPS protagonists with a bit more hair on their chest, if you catch my drift. My tastes verge towards those of the “bad boys” that misogynistic teenagers use as scapegoats to explain why they can’t get a girlfriend. I can clearly see why the concealed Spartan has so many devotees, but I have the feeling that a large chunk of these people also claim Captain America as their favorite Avengers member or Leonardo as their choice of ninja turtle. Those types of characters are simply a bit too straight-edge and vanilla for my eccentric, edgy ass.
On top of carrying himself with higher sophistication than his FPS forefathers, Master Chief also approaches the gun-toting combat of an FPS game with greater discretion. The general gameplay pace of the classic FPS titles tended to be absolutely electric, barging into enemy territory guns blazing as lords of the harvest. These games even encouraged aggressively bulldozing through each level by detailing an ideal time score that subtly assessed the player’s performance. Halo, however, encourages caution and pragmatism while under enemy fire, ducking and covering behind whatever source of shelter is provided and acutely determining when to uncover oneself to dispatch enemies from a distance. Motivating the player to adopt the guarded tactic is the addition of an energy shield, a layer of defensive armor that protects the Chief’s health until it depletes and leaves the eight vitality units vulnerable. Fortunately, this nifty defense mechanism can regenerate to its maximum if the player refrains from allowing any firepower or blunt damage from denting Master Chief’s armor any further, which can only be achieved through blanketing Master Chief behind some sort of barrier. Yes, one of Halo’s most influential contributions to gaming was popularizing the regenerating health mechanic, which eventually became so ubiquitous that it transcended its utilization in the FPS genre to every game and their mother implementing it for a significant period of time. I’ve been known to be vocally critical of this trendy health bar alternative, but mostly when there are flagrant discrepancies with the character showcasing this mechanic, like in the case of Nathan Drake or John Marston. When the playable protagonist is a soldier existing in a highly advanced, cybernetic era of civilization, the existence of an armor shield that regenerates is perfectly plausible. As a result of deviating from the typical percentage scale that depletes from 100 with that sensible element of context, Halo’s combat is rather multidimensional, even if it doesn’t evoke that thrilling FPS power fantasy of mowing down demons or aliens like a lawnmower to ingrown weeds.
Just because Halo is a warier FPS game that takes the stakes of combat more seriously doesn’t mean that there aren't any sources of levity to be found. Halo enjoys pretending as if the squadrons of lesser UNSC soldiers are actually vicious killing machines that Master Chief desperately needs as a means of support. Or, at least in the select few environments that aren’t inhospitably infested with enemy activity, which just further highlights their worthlessness. Still, as impotent as these nameless army privates are in battle, their presence does sprinkle a bit of liveliness into the fray of fire. Because Master Chief is strictly a “speak when spoken to” kind of guy, the troopers will add their input to the thunderous soundscape of war by shouting various one-liners ranging from battle commands to jovial quips at the enemy’s expense when they’re victorious.
Still, during missions where the flying, futuristic chopper is too chickenshit to deploy a garrison of troops, the Covenant enemies will provide enough personality to Halo’s gameplay, surprisingly enough. From what I can tell, the coalition of fundamentalist extraterrestrial forces consists of four predominant races, or at least in their military ranks. The lowest-ranked grunts in this evil alien army are, well, the “grunts,” foot soldiers with the bumpy skin complexion of a toad who are shrimpy and spineless in every facet of their being, from their size to their squeaky voices to their cowardly yelps and cries for help when the Chief aims his gun at them. They’re often compared to the goombas from Super Mario Bros. for their overall diminutiveness, but do not let this comparison color your perception of these slippery little suckers. Whereas a goomba is physically incapable of lobbing a grenade in your general direction, a grunt will litter the area with explosives that will kill Master Chief regardless of whether his energy shield is full. Next up on the Covenant totem pole are the jackals, who often make the fatal mistake of exposing themselves through their more pronounced, external energy shields by rolling around. The Elites are taller in terms of physical stature, but I believe that their formidability mostly stems from having to deplete the same electronic exoskeleton that the Chief wears in order to puncture their reptilian bodies. Lastly, the hunters are the juggernaut class of Covenant droogs who weaponize their enormous mass in close quarters to tackle Master Chief to the ground or charge up catastrophic blasts of weaponized energy from afar. Trust me, you’ll want to sufficiently strategize your approach to dealing with these beefcakes. A meager four major races in Halo’s enemy roster may not be as varied as the demon legions from Doom, but the Covenant compensates for their repetitive encounters with greater exuberance. Grunts will frantically scurry away like rats when the going gets tough, while Elites will maliciously cackle if they manage to smite the UNSC Spartan on the field. Besides all of these various quirks, the enemy AI in Halo is impressively alert and responsive to the player’s opposition, swiftly dodging grenades thrown in their direction and shimmying around during battle to make targeting them a hassle for the Chief. The animated liveliness of the Covenant makes the enemies featured in the FPS games of the previous century look extremely primitive in more than just their jagged polygons or pixels, as if they’re just stilted cardboard cutouts one would find at a shooting gallery. Unfortunately, The Flood, another enemy faction that appears at the final third of the campaign, does not exhibit the same level of liveliness. Then again, an infectious scourge that zombifies both enemies and allies alike by coating their bodies in a vegetational breading probably shouldn’t show the same signs of vigor by definition. The Flood are an inferior version of a common enemy type from Half-Life, and they plague the later portion of the game too much for my liking for the sake of pronouncing their plot significance.
Perhaps a fraction of The Covenant’s high charisma as video game villains can be attributed to their weaponry, an eclectic assortment of assault tools that the player can intimately become acquainted with. Gamers wonder what it would be like to utilize the enemy’s weapons more than people ponder how they’d operate the opposite gender’s genitalia for a day, so Halo promptly quells those feelings of curiosity/dysphoria. But first, one must become familiar with the UNSC weapons to understand the direct contrast highlighted between the two warring sides. Overall, Master Chief’s initially assigned arsenal could be described as fulfilling the bare essentials of FPS combat to an absolute fault. The Chief’s primary weapon is an assault rifle with an abundant stock of ammunition, whose number is displayed prominently in a visor to remind them how many bullets they’re expending. A shotgun will be available far later in the campaign to char searing holes into the Covenant, as well as the rocket launcher for when the alien bastards decide it's time to take the tank out for a stroll. In the meantime, a sniper rifle with two ranges of scopes will be provided to dispatch Covenant forces from a convenient distance. I’d comment that Master Chief looks like a complete dork holding the UNSC pistol with two hands, but seeing the shockingly deadly results of firing off its rounds, the kickback might be comparable to restraining a galloping horse. Besides the uncharacteristically powerful offensive properties of their handgun model, the UNSC’s array of weaponry is remarkably basic, almost as if they should have labels on their bland, grey exteriors that spell out SHOTGUN and SNIPER RIFLE like the blank food brands seen in Repo Man.
Conversely, the Covenant’s arsenal is not only far more colorful, but might require further explanation to understand their designs and how to use them. Their plasma pistol may not dole out devastating damage like the one granted to the Chief automatically, but one concentrated blast of matter’s enigmatic fourth state from this handheld weapon will melt away the Jackal’s shields out of existence. The plasma rifle is nifty in the fact that it doesn’t require traditional reloading and instead will overheat if too many shots are fired in quick succession. The “needler” seems like it compensates for its weaker blasts with homing properties on the surface, but the reality is that the cumulative acupuncture ammunition has explosive properties that will reduce the externally overprotected Elites to a state of total nakedness, if not death. The Covenant’s initiative to glue their offensive assets onto their enemies also extends to their grenades. If Master Chief successfully plants this luminescent bomb onto a Covenant soldier, they better hope that whatever God they’re fighting this holy war for is lenient enough to accept that their last rites are only three seconds long before they explode in a blue inferno. It certainly exhibits a more vibrant display of destruction than the UNSC’s bog-standard pinned grenade that tends to roll away from the target. Even the feuding faction's battle vehicles pronounce this unequal dichotomy in their infantry even further. Whereas the UNSC’s Warthog lethargically handles like riding around on a morbidly obese pack mule, the Covenant’s “ghost” is a sleek, speedy vehicle equipped with rapid-fire plasma blasters that never exhaust. Whose bright idea was it to place a Warthog’s only means of offense on its cargo bed, thus requiring another soldier to be riding on it at all times lest the driver be a sitting duck? In addition to their objective superiority compared to their UNSC equivalents, the Covenant are the faction that solely possess field turrets and vehicles with airborne capabilities called “banshees,” commanding the skies and striking fear in the hearts of the humans from their lofty vantage points. Wow, mankind would really be doomed without Master Chief, huh?
One would think that curiosity and the clear combat advantages would naturally compel the player to experiment with the Covenant’s artillery, but the way in which the game subtly constrains the player into shuffling their arsenal is one of my greatest grievances with Halo’s FPS gameplay. Equally as revolutionary a contribution to the FPS gameplay fabric as the regenerating health mechanic is confining the player to the use of only two weapons, specifically firearms, at a time. Fun, right? If you couldn’t tell from my sarcastic comment, I’m not particularly fond of Halo minimizing the player’s inventory, nor was I enthralled by its overwhelming prevalence across many FPS IPs that followed in its footsteps. Way back when, I found this reduction effort to stifle the fun factor of wielding a bodacious bounty of weapons that the older FPS titles certainly fostered. Now, as an adult with more acute reasoning skills, I can articulate a more substantial reason why Halo’s deliberate limitations rub me the wrong way.
Diplomatically highlighting some positives to this system first, restricting the player to two weapons does decongest the scrambled mess of juggling over a dozen weapons simultaneously. A handful of the Doom Guy’s or Duke Nukem’s demises in their respective games can admittedly be attributed to frantically swapping through their cramped arsenal, like rummaging through one’s backpack to find a report paper that is due in less than a minute. The conceit behind Halo’s reintegration of an FPS inventory is intended to separate the individual types of offense found in a typical FPS game and delegate them to their own buttons on a controller. This way, the player can execute a smattering of offensive maneuvers like chucking grenades or smacking an enemy with a melee strike simultaneously to compensate for any windows of vulnerability created by the conditions of combat, like running out of ammo for one weapon. Simply swapping to the alternate firearm with a quick button press technically solves this potential problem in haste, but exhausting a weapon entirely is rarely what warrants this swift alteration. More often than not, the player will be forced to change their weapon in a flash because it needs to be reloaded, which is a condition factored into the majority of the game’s weapons. Ironically, a game whose conceptual identity is steeped in an unfathomably advanced future is one that accentuates replacing the ammo for a weapon for the sake of realism. It doesn’t help matters that Master Chief treats the process so daintily that it's as if Christmas is occurring around him and not the dangerous, chaotic atmosphere of battle. Also, the player will be forced to reload often because the Covenant tends to be quite durable. An entire magazine of assault rifle bullets will only be enough to chew through an Elite’s exterior shield, an enemy class as common as the low-ranking grunts, mind you. The player can either use their other weapon assigned to the same button or toss their grenades in the meantime, but it's not as if the ammo of the previous weapon will have been magically replenished just by putting it back in its holster–and neither will the weapon that replaced it once it must be reloaded as well. I don’t think I have to add that auxiliary explosives can’t be used infinitely to supplement an indisposed weapon either. There are guaranteed to be several moments of panicked vulnerability when the game adds so many regulations that interrupt the flow of combat. Chalk up my criticism to a “skill issue” all you want, but I maintain my stance that these constant hindrances to the flow of combat are awkward mojo killers. The game is already slowing the freneticism of the FPS genre, so coupled with continually interrupting said slower combat with unnecessary, realistic snags, Halo often grated on my patience. Encouraging defensive tactics is one thing, but leaving the player in a bind of exposure every few seconds and forcing them to crawl away from combat as a result is incredibly tedious.
If criticizing the combat is bound to rile up some Halo zealots, I’m glad then that the majority of the fanbase will agree with me on the fact that Halo completely botches the level design department. Firstly, this doesn’t diminish the element of sheer spectacle that Halo exhibits in its levels, like an extravagant Chinese fireworks display. I stated before that the Xbox was the most technologically powerful system of the sixth console generation, and right out of the gate, Halo is the game to undoubtedly showcase that statement. How any gamer in 2001, willing to defect to Microsoft’s new machine or not, couldn't feel the sensation to shed that single tear at the breadth of Halo’s levels and the immaculate graphics rendering them is beyond comprehension. Witnessing the hilly plateaus of the Ring World, the expanse of the ocean from the sandy beach, or the layers of snow smothering the frigid tundra gives the impression that these geographical areas are truly massive and that they are not bounded by the artificial barriers that beset the immersion of less advanced video games. Again, another mark of the FPS genre’s evolution that places games like Doom and Quake into a quaint, prehistoric position.
Why, then, if Halo can competently create worlds of such vast, spellbinding magnitude, does it feel content dumbing itself down to the congested, labyrinthine interiors found across the levels of its FPS forefathers? Whether they comprise the second half of a sprawling outside area or encompass a level’s entirety, Master Chief underwhelmingly spends an inordinate amount of his time indoors like a kid on summer vacation. Unlike the breathtaking expanse of Halo’s organic outside surroundings, the interiors of the various space-age architectures are unremarkably dim and sterile, with few examples of sublime spaciousness showcased on occasion. Most egregiously, the branching hallways and narrow corridors of these interior areas are indistinguishable from one another, trapping the player in a maze where the monochromatic aesthetic is bound to greatly obfuscate one’s general perception of placement. In my case, this sensation was accompanied by onset nausea, as seeing the exact same set pieces in these foregrounds repeatedly evoked the discomforting haze of a fever dream. Most players will point at “The Library” as being the worst offender of Halo’s monotonous level design, a commodious, shadowed series of arcane archives that the player ascends through elevator by elevator with absolutely no variation in design between them, like the floors of a stairwell. While this level is deservedly maligned for being an excruciatingly lengthy slog, the magenta-colored, cybernetic corridors of the Covenant ship and the control rooms situated in the subarctic mountains were the ones that made me the most irritated and bilious. Cortana, the UNSC’s holographic AI unit assisting Master Chief on his mission like a less nagging Navi with more sex appeal to cater towards Halo’s more “mature” audience, frequently pinpoints the location of the ongoing objective only during sections taking place outdoors. If I had to hazard a guess, her conspicuous assistant marker is provided while exposed to the sun due to developer concerns that players would end up hopelessly adrift in an area without enclosed parameters. How ironic is it then that this progression aid would’ve been far more practical in places that evoked the design practices in FPS games of yore, where such a perk wasn’t necessary because there was still plenty of visual discernibility despite the more primitive graphical framework.
Amplifying my migraine caused by traversing through all of this tiring indoor terrain is the campaign’s inclination to revisit previous areas after a turning point in Halo’s narrative. After retrieving Halo’s activation index, Cortana (and Master Chief, I guess; it’s hard to truly tell) is horrified to learn that Halo’s purpose as a superweapon is to obliterate all organic life in the universe to starve the scourge of Flood from any and all host bodies. To unfuck the damage they’ve potentially done through their ignorant snooping, Master Chief must undergo a retread that includes the two aforementioned areas that made vomit bubble up in my guts. Admittedly, the second runs through these appallingly designed levels do inject some marginally refreshing distinguishability by shuffling the mission objectives in the midst of killing more Covenant soldiers. Hotwiring a Covenant banshee and piloting it to reach three activation stations in “Two Betrayals” displays a great utilization of the game’s best vehicle, and rescuing Keyes again in the Covenant ship just to find that he’s been horrifically mutated into an indescribable Flood abomination is rather disturbing. I wish coming back to square one of the Pillar of Autumn only involved shooting grunts and elites in UNSC locker rooms and cafeterias because the climactic scope of the narrative has augmented the level with an atrocious final escape sequence where Master Chief must drive a Warthog through a linear, albeit littered with obstacles and enemies, track, lest he be extinguished by the catastrophic blast of the Halo’s explosion radius. I’d almost inclined to give kudos to Halo’s final objective for being a Metroid homage that fosters a challenge that is genuinely brimming with tension, but that’s like commending a prison guard for strapping a ball and chain around my ankle and making it harder to walk to the bathroom. If these glorified dune buggies are what our futuristic Earth society’s taxes are financing, I’m going to write a note to any descendants I might have, beseeching them to dump one of these clunkers in the Boston Harbor as a sign of civil protest. Putting a period on the story by ridding the galaxy of its ominous bio-obliterator definitely spells out Star Wars once again, but there aren’t any prideful ceremonies occurring as a result of Master Chief’s accomplishments. The Spartan is a bit bummed out by the fact that he’s (and technically Cortana) the only remaining soldier who survived the Halo escapade, shrouding the game’s final resolution in a grief-induced melancholy. You mean you’re shocked that the nameless, carbon-copied UNSC soldiers that I saw die in droves on the battlefield didn’t live to tell the tale of their heroic exploits? The demise of Captain Keyes was effective in its gruesomeness, but at the end of the day, all he did was issue some orders per his job position and nothing more. I understand that the scenario is rather tragic from the astounding scope of the loss, but I can’t fully empathize with the Chief’s sullenness due to how unexceptional the people he’s mourning were. C’mon Chiefy, you just saved all organic life from being wiped away from the universe! Lighten the fuck up!
If any of my friends from middle/high school who were fans of Halo happen to be reading this, I apologize if I ever offended you by referring to your beloved FPS series as “Gaylo” (it was the late 2000s and I was 12-13. It would’ve been surprising if I had spoken of it in any other way). Now, as an adult who is moderately more enlightened and mature, I will now dub Halo and all of its FPS disciples as “blockbuster shooters(™).” Naturally, this term I’ve conceived correlates with the designation of high-budget films typically released during the summer season, as Halo shares many commonalities with their tonal directions and historical parallels. It’s a bit of a stretch to compare Doom and the other FPS games of the 1990s to films like The Godfather and The French Connection, but for all intents and purposes, let’s make connections between early titles in the genre and the New Hollywood movement that the blockbuster sprouted from. What was the cutting edge of both respective mediums that pushed the envelope for provocative grit on a mainstream scale had then transformed into shoveling sanitized spectacle into the eyes and earholes of the widest common denominator to garner the widest profit margin possible. George Lucas’ brainchild changed the film landscape forevermore with its stunning depictions of the cosmos and tantalized audiences with its war conflict between its many moons. Cross out the subject of the previous sentence with Halo for gaming, and it's equally applicable. Sure, Halo did contribute plenty of positive evolutions to the FPS genre with its broadened interactive diameter, outstanding visuals, and its forgiving checkpoints that I forgot to squeeze into a paragraph. However, what I still find unappealing about Bungie’s IP is its shallow characterization beneath its spectacle and its insistence that the player treat every facet of it with the utmost earnestness. Everything from its gameplay, story, and characters is so goddamned dignified that I questioned whether or not I was supposed to feel any sort of joy from the experience. It’s no wonder Halo became a revolutionary trendsetter in the gaming medium, but it’s a bit too overpolished and cold for my tastes.
No comments:
Post a Comment