I know I usually talk about older games, but there was a time in my life where I was hip with the world and up to speed on the latest and greatest gaming trends. I'm talking about playing games online, over Xbox Live. Obviously, this has become ubiquitous these days; online gaming is everywhere and almost everything. However, back in the halcyon days of the early-mid 2000's it was a little unprecedented, at least to the mainstream of console gamers (obviously PC gaming, which I've never been into, is an entirely different story). I remember that buying a wireless router and getting into a matchmaking game in Halo 2 for the first time seemed like the coolest thing in the entire world. For the first time in my life, I was playing video games with other people who weren't sitting on the couch right next to me- they were halfway across the planet! The concept alone seemed unimaginable to me.
But there I was, gunning people down in what had already become one of my favorite video game franchises ever, only on its second installment. It was mayhem. I spent days on end locked in my room doing essentially the same thing over and over again but with different people every time (and sometimes friends too). I stayed up all night, I didn't go out with friends, and my eyes were bloodshot from sitting 5 feet away from the TV for hours on end. I remember feeling like I wanted to be better at it than everyone I knew. Better than all my friends, better than everyone I faced online. Now, I'm definitely no pro gamer- I never was, never will be, and nor would I claim to be anything close. However, I will say that I am at least halfway decent at first person shooters, most likely one standard deviation above the mean, for you statistics nerds out there. The point is, I took my quest to be the best that I could be at Halo very seriously back in the day. But alas, the climb to the top was certainly not an easy one.
The early days of Xbox Live were kind of like the wild west. As I mentioned before, online connectivity between consoles was sort of a burgeoning market at the time. Sure, it had existed in some rudimentary forms previously, but it really didn't reach the mainstream until the early 2000's. Because of this, Microsoft didn't really have that sophisticated of a system for dealing with their own online market in the beginning. As a result, Xbox Live was overrun with rampant cheating. Modders who hacked the game to basically allow them automatically kill you, so-called "standbyers" who would use some complicated means of causing other plays to lag while they were free to win the game on their own, you name it- anyone who had the means to screw someone else out of winning a match for their own gain was free to do so, virtually free of any ramifications. Halo 2 also had a plethora of weird glitches that users constantly exploited during matchmaking in order to gain an unfair advantage over players who didn't know how to do so for themselves (admittedly, even I too used the "super bounce" glitch during matchmaking periodically). It was total anarchy.
Halo 2 had a pretty simple ranking system- the more games of any matchmaking type that you won, the higher your rank number got, the highest being level 50. For some odd reason, levels in the high 40s to 50 were denoted by symbols like the Halo ring, a sun or moon, etc. That's neither here nor there, but I remember one particularly disgruntled Xbox user who rambled on over my headset about how anyone with a symbol ranking was not "legit." He was right though- if you saw that your opponents had those symbols, even before a game started you knew that you were done for, and that precious rank you worked so hard to achieve would take a hit. The highest I ever even managed to get myself to was level 34 before I was decimated by cheaters. I loved the game, but after match upon match upon match of getting unfairly beaten down, I grew incredibly weary of the experience. It made me hate playing the game not even very long after I had learned to love it.
Symbols denoting levels 44-50 in Halo 2's matchmaking. If you saw one of these in the lobby before the game, you pretty much knew you were screwed.
About three years after Halo 2 was released came Halo 3, this time on the next generation Xbox 360 console, and you bet your sweet ass I was one of those people parked out in front of my local game store at midnight waiting in line to get my copy on September 25th, 2007. By now, Xbox live had been totally revamped for the new console and things were quite different. Microsoft seemed to have finally gained control over their online empire and now monitored carefully for the aforementioned types of cheating. Any type was met with a swift ban, and finally we were all free to play and rely solely on our skill to win. This time, I wasn't going to let anything stop me on my way to reaching level 50. I played endlessly in the games' "Lone Wolves" matchmaking mode, a free-for-all battle in which 8 players duked it out against one another for 25 kills to win. I was pretty good at it- I even managed to make it to level 47. I was so close- only 3 levels away!
Halo 3 had a bit of a different system for raising your rank than Halo 2- ranks were determined individually by different matchmaking types. For instance, I could have a rank of 47 in Lone Wolves, but only a 7 in another type like Team Skirmish. However, your highest achieved rank in any game type was always displayed proudly in your user profile, the highest once again being level 50. Not only that, but you were also assigned a military rank for higher levels- such as Captain, Colonel, and Brigadier- and only if you managed to reach level 50 would be awarded with the coveted distinction of General.
I had come so far in Lone Wolves, but it got incredibly difficult to raise my rank at that high of a level. Lone Wolves was almost entirely built on preying upon others- as in, using every dirty trick in the book like camping, stealing kills from others and grabbing hold of high powered weapons and powerups as soon as they spawned. For me and my ridiculous sense of gaming morality to a fault, I could never take enough advantage to get over the proverbial hump. So, I had to start over from the bottom by trying my hand in Team Slayer.
Another thing I should mention is that I never really used the headset that came with the console or listened to other people in-game. This is almost a requirement of Team Slayer, but I made things a bit more difficult on myself by purposely choosing not to do so. Additionally, I never joined up with parties- even in a team game, I always chose to go it alone. Even still, I got better and better. I rose all the way to level 48; however, it was there that I hit a wall again. I would go on long steaks of alternating wins and losses, never gaining any ground. I would win several games in a row, just waiting to rank up to 49 but never seeming to get there, only to go on and lose several more in a row. I wondered if I would be perpetually stuck at 48 forever. I was good, but not good enough to rise to the next level. This went on for weeks. I remember reading somewhere that the ranking system was complex and through some sort of algorithm, it always left you at the rank it believed you should be at, and once you reached your limit there was no way to change it. Not knowing if this was true or not, I started to believe that I would never get any higher than level 48.
Even still, I refused to quit. Despite playing as a loner, despite never coordinating with my teammates through headset, I pushed on. I had come so far, gotten so close- the glory of a General rank was too enticing to give up. Finally, my day came. I was on a winning streak and every game I was kicking ass. And then, like a shimmering beacon of hope, I broke through- I ranked up to 49. I was ecstatic; the rumors weren't true, I wouldn't be stuck at 48 forever. However, I knew this wasn't the end- there was still one last level standing between me and the illustrious 50. But now, there was absolutely no way I was giving up. I was too close. I trudged forward, once again facing alternating wins and losses. I wasn't sure how long it would take this time. With every loss I feared that my rank would be lowered to 48 once again. I even kept track of every win and loss, charting out my progress. After days on end, I was trending upward. I knew the end had to be somewhere in sight.
My actual "charts" of my progress in matchmaking wins, dated February 13th, 2008 and March 8th, 2008. Up arrows are wins, and down arrows are losses. Note the long periods of back and forth wins and losses for both 48-49 and 49-50. Also, apologies for my terrible handwriting. It hasn't gotten a whole lot better almost 9 years later.
And then it happened. I remember the game clearly- my team was getting beaten down from the very beginning. I had won eight of the last 10 games and desperately wanted to keep my streak going, so I buckled down and willed my team to victory. I had the overwhelming majority of kills on my team and despite them dragging me down, I carried us forward and won the game. Then, as the post-game stats screen faded and I was brought back to the matchmaking lobby, something was different. My rank was 50. And then, the shining golden General ranking was bestowed upon me. I leaped up and shouted with joy. I had finally done it. After all of the "unfairness" I had faced in Halo 2, after all the roadblocks put in front of me in Halo 3, I had broken through. I was one of the best of the best now.
I never played Team Slayer again after that day, leaving my 50 ranking as a testament to my dramatic triumph. Now, obviously for many people who are skilled at first person shooters, reaching level 50 probably wasn't a big deal, and if you are one of those people you're probably laughing pretty hard at what a "noob" I am right now (do people still say noob? I'm pretty out of the loop). Rightfully so for you, but for me, this was about more than that. It was about redemption. It was about earning my keep. It was about being the best I could be, and for that one day, I had done it.
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