Top Ten Reasons I’ll Own You (And Your Moms) In Halo 3

Halo 3 doesn’t get old. It just doesn’t. I can not play that game for months and it’s still as fun as the first time when I start playing again.

Since finishing school last week I’ve been purposely vegging out: I have no desire to do anything important or responsible until after Christmas. Right now, I’m all about playing, writing blogs, watching TV, reading books, and hanging with my family. Hell, I deserve a mental vacation.

Anyway, I’ve been playing  a lot of Halo 3. Every time I tweet about it I get someone asking me questions. “Is it fun?’ “Why do you play it so much?” To which I say, “Hells yeah,” and ” Because I’m awesome.”

Don’t believe me? Allow me to provide video evidence. One of the coolest features of Halo 3 is the ability to go back and watch the films of your most recent 25 online games. You can edit out clips, rewind, fast forward, go in slow motion, move the camera angles, and even watch the game from the point of view of any of your teammates or competitors. We really like doing this when something particularly cool happens in a game and we want to go back and watch it over and over again, making everyone in the house bask in our glory. Unfortunately, Microsoft prevents you from putting the video clips on your thumb drive for sharing, so I had to go old school and use my video cam to record the TV.

Top Ten Reasons I”ll Own You (And Your Moms) In Halo 3

10. I’m Mean w/ a Shotgun - While playing a game of capture the flag, I proceed to stick my shotgun up the asses of the blue team.

9. I’ll Kill You and the Guy You Got Protecting You - In the same game, I kill the guy protecting the guy with our flag and the guy with our flag. (They’re lucky I didn’t kill them with the flag.) Then they come back for more.

8. Sometimes, There Is an “I” in Team – In Capture the Flag, you have to go to the other team’s base, grab their flag, and bring it back to your base to score. You can’t do this if they’ve also managed to grab your flag. It has to be returned before you can score.

In the clip you’re about to see, during the live game, I had Kali and Donny yelling at me, “Oh my God! They have our flag! They’re going to score. Nina, do something because only you can save us” (OK, so maybe not that last part)

So, after I fuck shit up for a bit, I pick up a grav lift (a device tossed on the ground and walked over so it allows you to jump really high), toss it next to the building,  and then simultaneously jump and save the damn day. THEN, I grab the other team’s flag and wait while Kali, Donny, and our other teammate do God’s know what before I can score.

7. I’m Lethal With The Stickies – In Halo 3, a sticky grenade is one that sticks to whatever it touches and then explodes. They are a lot of fun. It’s particularly fun to stick it to someone as they are running at you, and then back up and watch the fireworks. But the best is sticking it on something near the bad guy and watching him die from standing too close.

6. I’m So Good, I Will Kill By Accident - Here, I lob a sticky grenade blindly around a corner. And get the kill.

5. I’m Good With All the Weapons in the Game – including the sword:

4. … And the Needler – The Needler shoots a steady burst of pink exploding needles. You have to get ten needles into the person to kill them.

3. And the rocket launcher…

2. Getting In a Vehicle Won’t Save You – This guy thought getting into a Ghost was going to help. I blew it up. With him in it. And the explosion also killed his friend who was shooting at me while standing a little too close.

And finally, I will own you (and your Moms) in Halo 3 because…

1. I am not above shooting you in the back. That’s how I roll.

***

BONUS:

As juvenile and unsportsmanlike as it is, I love teabagging enemies after I kill them. Teabagging, for you video game newbies, is when you put your crotch area in the face of the dead guy and bounce up and down. It’s suppose to simulate the act of dunking a teabag in cup, but with your testicles.

Here’s what it looks like from my point of view after I kill someone:

And if you’re playing nearby, here’s what the same kill looks like to you:

But now, players have figured out a new way to add shame and degradation to the person they’ve just killed. Below, I demonstrate this after killing a guy:

Donny’s Not a Team Player

I hate playing tactical shooting games with Donny. He just really sucks. Why?

1. When we enter a room, he just enters the room. I peek around corners, lob grenades at bad guys if necessary, I watch my back and clear the room. Not Donny. He just waltzes in and usually ends up with a cap in ass for his efforts.

“Who taught you to clear a room?!”

2. He tosses out grenades all willy-nilly. I can’t even count how many times I’ve been blown up by a Donny grenade.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

3. He doesn’t follow directions. If we’re going down a hallway and I say, “You take the left side, I’ll take the right,” I’ll inevitably end up shooting him in the back of the head because he’ll come wandering in front of my crosshairs.

“Stay on your side!”

4. He reloads out in the open. If there’s a low wall around it won’t occur to him to crouch there and reload. Nope. Not my Donny. My Donny stands all out in the open, reloading, and taking shots.

“Push in the left joystick to crouch!”

“I know.”

“Oh, cause I couldn’t tell with all the non-crouching and dying you’re doing.”

5. He doesn’t communicate. I’ll be in the middle of a big battle and look on his side of the screen and notice it’s all quiet and shit. Birds are chirping, the sun is shining, no one is shooting him.

“Where the hell are you?”

“I’m at the bridge.”

“What bridge?”

“Oh, I must have gone ahead.”

“You left me? You suck!”

6. He’s an ammo hog. If we come across ammo or health packs, I’ll always ask before I pick any up, “How are you on ammo? How’s your health?” Not Donny. I’ll be running around saying, “Damnit! I need ammo.” Donny’s response?

“There was a bunch over here, but I got it.

Gee, thanks.

7. He’s a horrible driver. He’ll drive. I’ll jump in the gunner seat and then he has the nerve to yell at me.

“Shoot them!”

“It’s kinda hard to shoot when the Warthog’s upside down!”

After about an hour I lied and said I wasn’t feeling well just to not play with him anymore. I found that when it became more enticing to shoot him and lob grenades at his head than the enemy’s, it was probably a good time to stop playing.

For the record, I just read this to him and he laughed his ass off and agreed with everything I said. He can’t even deny it!

Gaming Will Ruin My Relationships

I realized this weekend that I take gaming way too seriously. Wait. Correction: I always knew this, but Donny, Bette, and Mike found out the hard way.

We spent a great deal of time this weekend playing Perfect Dark Zero online.  Our favorite games are Infection: some players start out as infected skeleton zombies and have to kill/infect the others before time runs out and let me tell you, nothing is scarier than being the last human alive crouched in a corner with two guns waiting for your death, and Capture the Flag: two teams try to steal each others flag and bring it back to their own base to score.

Now, I take my capture the flag seriously. In a perfect world I like two guys guarding our flag: a sniper up high and one guy on the ground, and two or three headed to the other team’s base to steal theirs. This isn’t to say that Donny, Mike, and Bette don’t want to win. I just don’t think they want to win as badly as I do. I had to mute my mic or else they would have heard the most horrible of obscenities spew from my mouth.

Bette is so nice. She makes friends with everyone. During one game she’s chatting with a teammate, some guy in Ohio I think:

“What school do you go to?”

Meanwhile, I’m running back to our base with the flag, enemies hot on my tail, bullets whizzing by me, and I’m yelling, “Fuck his school! Who’s guarding the motherfucking flag?!?!”

Don’t judge me! I hate losing.

Who The Hell Is Sal, and Why Is His Ass in My Peanut Butter?

“I’ll take Bacteriology for $800, please.”

sal·mo·nel·la [sal-muh-nel-la] – any of several rod-shaped, facultatively anaerobic bacteria of the genus Salmonella, as S. typhosa, that may enter the digestive tract of humans and other mammals in contaminated food and cause abdominal pains and violent diarrhea.

“What is how Nina spent her weekend?”

“Correct for $800. You control the board.”

….72 hours earlier…..

Friday morning I was on the phone with Mike. We both had big plans for the weekend. His mother was coming into town. He and Bette were excited. He hasn’t seen his mother in months. Tara and I were secretly disappointed as we pictured a long, quiet, weekend without Bette and Mike, but were happy that he was going to get time with his Mom. Friday was Donny’s first Friday off on his new Mon-Thurs 10 hour work day schedule, and we got our pretty nice sized tax return direct deposited that morning. The weekend was looking up, up, up.

As I’m talking to Mike, I’m surfing the net trying to decide which X-box 360 games I would buy that weekend when I see yet another headline about contaminated peanut butter. When I first saw something about it on the news a few days prior, I somewhat brushed it off because I never buy Peter Pan peanut butter. Always Jiff. But for a few days, whenever I saw any mention of it, I had this little nagging part of me that wanted to check the pantry. I never did. So, I mention this to Mike on the phone Friday morning.

“Bitch, you better go check that damn peanut butter!”

I yell for Donny to check the pantry and sure enough, Peter motherfucking Pan peanut butter. Mike is amazed.

“Now, check the lid for a number.”

“Inside or outside?”

“I don’t know. Just read me any numbers you see.”

There are numbers stamped on the top of the lid, but to be safe (poor choice of wording there) I open the jar and look on the inside of the lid. It’s covered in peanut butter so I take a paper towel and wipe it getting some on my fingers.

“AQRZ-D…”

“Bitch, I need numbers! Numbers!”

“Oh.”

I read him the numbers from the top of the lid which is what I should have done in the first place.

“2111…”

“Oh my GOD! Throw it away! Now!”

Ten minutes later I’m on the phone with Mike and Bette. The latter is telling me that I should actually eat the peanut butter in order to lose ten pounds. She called it the Salmonella Diet. Mike and I just called it PB Diahrrea. Everyone has a good laugh and I get off the phone to eat a donut and drink two cups of coffee. That’s the last thing I remember.

Kidding. Donny left to do some shopping and I played X-box. While I’m playing, I start to feel really sick. Mike calls, I tell him I think I’m going to throw up. “Do you think it was the peanut butter?,” he asks. I don’t know I tell him. “Well, if you die. You’ll know.”

Donny comes home with a pink Victoria’s Secret bag. I’m too sick to display the usual joy that a VS bag brings. I spend the next few hours vomiting and sleeping. We try to watch Hollywoodland. I sleep through most of it, but wake up for the last 30 minutes or so.

“Donny, this movie sucked. I want my 2 and a half hours back.”

“You slept and vomited through most of it.”

“I still want that time back.”

Mike, Bette, and Donny spend most of the evening trying to convince me to go to the ER. Donny calls the ER and the first thing they ask after hearing my symptons is if I’ve had any peanut butter lately. He tells them that I handled it before eating, and they reply that it could be that or a stomach flu that’s going around, but I need to come in either way. Donny takes Kali to my parent’s house so I won’t contaminate her and she won’t have to see me go to the hospital.

When he returns, I’m sleeping peacefully kinda propped up so I won’t choke on my own vomit.  I’m paranoid that way. You guys won’t be writing memorial blogs about my ass dying so undignified. I convince Donny to let me stay home barring one more vomit incident.  I didn’t keep that promise. I refused to go to the ER and behaved like a total brat until he found himself wishing I would just die there on the couch.

It turns out that Mike’s mother is coming in Wednesday instead as her flight kept getting ridiculously delayed due to weather. Bette is telling me to drink flat, room temperature, ginger ale, and only 2-4 ounces at a time. As I assure her I will, I’m literally sucking down ice cold, fizzy, ginger ale by the glassful. Literally. Like Jenna Jameson making a comeback.  I knew my stomach would regret it a minute later, but I was sooooo thirsty.

It got so bad that I stopped trying to make it to the bathroom early on. I just had a bucket next to the couch.  They say a guy is really committed if he’ll hold your hair while you vomit. Screw that. A man really loves you when he spends the day dumping and washing out your puke bucket. Poor Donny.

I watch Little Miss Sunshine (cute movie) while Donny sleeps. By midnight, I’ve somehow convinced myself that I’m well enough to play Gears of War online with Mike, Bette, and Donny.  We spank them mercilessly. Then they beat us a few times. Then one of Bette and Mike’s new Xbox live friends join in and I leave cause she was making me cranky…and vomit.

The next morning, Saturday, I’m feeling somewhat better. My parents insist on keeping Kali to play it safe and since Donny has to work Saturday night they figure I could use the rest. I’m on the phone with Mike, Bette, and Tara and we’re telling her all about our Gears of War session.

“I’m going to get an X-box today. Should I?”

Not believing for one second that she actually would we all, including Donny, say things like, “Sure. Absolutely. Go right ahead.” The next thing I know, Donny’s advising her on wireless adapters, and Mike has her on the Xbox website explaining the difference between the core and premium systems.  While on the website she exclaims…

“Oooh, what’s this Viva Pinata about? It’s so bright with lots of pretty colors. I want it.”

Oh Lord.

Tara gets off the phone to make some phone calls and price compare. Mike and Bette go to play Gears of War and I take a nap. I have a dream that Tara is molested by a guy in a Circuit City uniform so I call her.

“Listen, before you buy anything, you call us. Especially if they’re trying to tell you it’s something you need. You call and talk to me, Donny, or Mike.”

She calls an hour later from CompUSA.

“Is this Sonic any good? It’s really pretty with lots of colors.”

I’m starting to get worried. These games are $60 and her only purchasing criteria is “pretty colors.” I tell her to ignore the pretty lights and just get the X-box. She calls us back.

“These guys are telling me to get the PS3 instead.”

“What guys?”

Turns out two black guys shopping are advising her against the 360. “Since when do you listen to black guys?!” That from me. This from Mike, “They just wanted you to buy it so they could rob you in the parking lot.”

Several hundred dollars and a trip to Blockbuster to rent games later, Tara is home setting up her Xbox.  Before she can play an online game of Fusion Frenzy 2 with us, she has to open her ports. With a name like BoozyIrishFloozie one would think her ports stayed open *rimshot* but that was not the case. She and Mike spend an hour on the phone with her router’s tech. support people in India before we can finally all play.

And that’s how I spent the rest of my weekend. On the sofa, trying to keep down ginger ale, Gatorade, and saltines, and creating three X-box 360 monsters.  If you have the console you know that you can see what your online friends are playing at anytime. Throughout the evening last night I would take a break from stuyding, and check in on Tara. She was playing Gears of War while Bette and Mike played Uno. Seeing as how Tara is one of those people who grip the controller tightly and move their bodies along w/ the characters on the screen I decided to call her and see how it was going. With a game like GOW I had images of her diving, crouching, and rolling all over the basement.

All in all, even though I was sick, I had a great weekend. I spent a lot of time with Donny and my friends playing video games and laughing. And whether or not it was salmonella or the stomach flu, much like how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop, the world may never know.