Halo Reach: oh how I loathe thee

There’s a joke on the streets about being a video game widow. “Oh, I’m a WoW widow,” or “I lost my husband to Modern Warfar 2 on December 2, 2009.” While a little ridiculous, it’s the wives’ way of saying “our husbands play video games to an excessive degree.” Certain games leave me dreading release dates almost as much as I dread exam results; personally, anything having to do with Halo and its parasitic companions leaves me in physical agony. My husband was an avid Halo sycophant long before we became an item–his senior thesis in college built itself from the mythology contained within the game itself–so I knew there would be a constant war between myself and Sargent Johnson for years to come. First, there was Halo 2 (shortly after we started dating the first time in college), then came Halo 3 at the beginning of our Senior year in college. “Finally!” I thought, “It must be over. All good things come in threes.” Oh, how wrong I was.

Joking with the other girls around campus about being Halo widows was funny for a while, then it became a discussion of complete frustration. Our guys were planning full days of gaming and junk food, dubbed ‘game days.’ Seriously, from waking until utter exhaustion, junk food and video games with no breaks! How are we supposed to compete with that?

After graduation, I became a WoW widow (World of Warcraft.) I was left to entertain myself for hours on end after work was through, and asking him away from the game was like tearing away oxygen. “But…but…my guild has a raid tonight…I can’t go to the movies. Why don’t you watch one of your girly favorites? I’ll set up the TV in here so you can watch the movie and I’ll put my headphones on so I’m not disturbing you.” After 5 months of this type of behavior, I decided I’d either have to join him or leave him. No longer was I WoW widow, I was an active participant in this gaming realm where men and women alike proudly exclaimed, “Real life is lame.” Hours of our lives that we will never get back, and for what? Leveling, gearing, instancing, and reputation grinds that, in all honesty, mean absolutely nothing. True, I could relate to my husband and partake of conversations with him and some of his buddies again, as well as relating to my students on a gaming level, but at what cost? I felt almost dirty.

In 2009, we finally nipped that habit in the butt and put aside our WoW-ing ways, only to find out, (oh boy) Halo is putting out new games! ODST will be out September 22, 2009 (a little over a month from our wedding.) To spare you the details, ODST was purchased upon our return from our Honeymoon and I was to be, once again, a Halo widow. However, this game didn’t seem to hold as much enthusiasm as the others, and before long, this game was put aside and forgotten. “Could Halo have lost its appeal,” I pondered. After Lego adventures, trips into the Inferno, and many other haphazard game purchases, a news release doomed me in June 2009: Bungie will release a prequel to the Halo series–Halo Reach. My life hasn’t been the same since.

Upon its release on September 14, 2010, I have remembered what it feels like to be a video game widow; my Facebook updates tell me that many of my dating and/or married women friends are finding themselves in the same situation. Halo Reach has consumed the souls of our men and has taken up residence in the family television for the foreseeable future. Every night since Tuesday, our men have glued themselves 5 feet from the television and fallen hostage to a world that is destined for destruction (If you don’t know the story, Reach is the first place destroyed by the mythical Covenant race) They already know the planet will be destroyed! What’s the point in playing this game…?

I suppose it’s not fair for me to ask that; I’m not completely absorbed in this story, but I guess it’s comparable to some of the stories in books I become entranced with. Either way, I had not had a real conversation with my husband after 5:00 a single night since Tuesday. We even had a friend stop by on Wednesday to hang out; similar to his WoW days, the main television was set up so I could watch my show, and the smaller TV was beside it where he played with his headphones. Our friend sat on the couch with me and watched my show, while hubby was completely oblivious to everything happening outside of that 16 inch screen. Come Friday night, I was livid. Hubby and his friend had planned a Saturday ‘game day.’ (yes, the hated idea has returned to torture me yet again). The original agreement was not to play until Saturday, get it out of their system and “beat the campaign” on Saturday, and then moderate play-time thereafter. However, the reality was playing every night until 10:00-11:00, and then planning a game day to continue playing ALL DAY. Well, I’d had it, and I wasn’t playing fair anymore. I pulled out my little bag of dirty tricks and played under the table.

“I want to go to Disney on Saturday.” I want to spend time away from the television and have some time together. I got what I wanted, a little easier than I expected, but it was bittersweet. We spent the day together and had fun, but I think in turn, I may have cost him more than he was originally willing to pay by upsetting his gaming buddy. Don’t worry–I’ve put the bag away and I’m playing nice for a while; he’s playing as I write, which paints the picture that all is right in the world of matrimony for the time being. However, nights like this make me wonder how many nasty letters Bungie receives from wives and girlfriends over ruined relationships and money spent on the same damn game time and time again. Raise your glasses girls: here’s to being a gaming widow. :-/