Life Update #7: The Rise of Hardcore Henry III

Avid readers of my blog (it’s getting slightly easier to say that word out loud) will know who Hardcore Henry was. (Or maybe they won’t, because it’s been a while since I’ve talked about him that one time.) I mentioned him in one of my previous Life Updates. (Which you can read for yourself right here!)

For those of you just stopping by, Hardcore Henry was the daddy long-legs that lived by my bookshelf. He got killed (semi-long story) and was soon replaced by a newcomer daddy long-legs that I dubbed Hardcore Henry II.

I didn’t post about it, but Hardcore Henry II is gone too.

I don’t know if he perished in the cold and forgotten wastes behind my bookshelves or if he crawled himself to a new locale with better property value. All I know is that the hardcore spot between the wall and one of my bookshelves has been empty for months.

That is, it was until a few days ago.

A brand-new daddy long-legs, Hardcore Henry III, has taken up residence there, and this spider has an attitude. He’s not mean per se, but he’s kind of…moody.

He has a tendency to spring out from his lair if someone so much as breathes on his web.

This is as close as I can safely get to Hardcore Henry III.

You can see Hardcore Henry III as the little dot above my gargantuan schnozz.

I’ve got to admit, I’m not too fond of this guy. The other Hardcore Henrys webbed their way into my heart by being unobtrusive spiders that may have assisted in decreasing the fly and mosquito population near my desk. But Hardcore Henry III is a tough as nails, take no shit, spit in your eye, and growl kind of guy.

And, as my earlier Life Update specified, I’m a tad on the arachnophobic side.

I don’t know what to do with Hardcore Henry III.

I’ve already named him, so I can’t just squash him.

So you see those books in the picture above, the ones with backwards titles since I took the photo selfie-style?

Yeah, it’s gonna be a while before I pick those up again.

What’s the natural life span of a daddy long-legs?

Literary Sins: On the Road Can Suck My Below Average Blog

On my neverending quest to become an enlightened reader, I bought a copy of Jack Kerouac’s On the Road a few months ago. I finished it yesterday, and all I can think is what a letdown reading it was.

I don’t know about you, but I had heard fantastic things about On the Road. Kerouac’s writing style was extolled as revolutionary, and his encapsulation of the wild and untrammeled Beat movement was considered a highlight of the times.

And as far as Kerouac’s writing style goes, On the Road was enjoyable. He writes in a semi-stream of consciousness style, almost as if he’s next to you, mumbling his tale. Often, his description of commonplace things are damn near poetic, and his vivid imaginings of what it feels like to feel are enticing and magnetic.

But fuck almost everything else about it.

The story is narrated by an indecisive and wandering young man named Sal Paradise, but it actually follows Sal’s friend, Dean Moriarty. It’s clear that Sal greatly admires and pities Dean at the same time. The two of them decide to travel “on the road” together. They’re looking for some kind of Beat Eden, a place that holds no restrictions against what they want and what they are, but they never really find it. Their own contrary natures and the regulated way American society functions stops them from ever finding that place where they belong.

This all sounds tremendously romantic, but I just couldn’t get into it for two very big reasons.

For one thing, the book is incredibly sexist. Women don’t seem to have the same voice as men do. Sal is his own person, Dean is his own person, every dude is his own person. They all have a presence in Kerouac’s writing that assures you they are sentient beings with hopes and dreams.

The women, on the other hand, are so objectified, they have zero personality. They’re in the story to be nuisances, background items, or sexual objects.

Normally, I don’t get hung up on novels not being MEGA inclusive. A good story will grab me every time no matter who it’s about. But On the Road grated on my nerves with every woman Sal and Dean ogled at, slept with, abandoned, harassed, or ignored. Plus, there is some really shady shit that goes down when Sal and Dean are staying at this house with a woman named Frankie. They both start developing a crush on her thirteen-year-old daughter.

No, you read that right. A THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD girl.

And she’s not the only young girl the two men lust after.

It was disgusting reading about these older men crushing on these little girls.

Plus, Sal and Dean can’t seem to stop thinking about ladies period. Every time they’re out on the town, Sal fantasizes about meeting a “gone” girl for a good time. And they don’t care about these girls as people, with thoughts and dreams of their own. They only care about how good the girls can make them feel.

That actually leads to the other big reason why I hate On the Road.

The main characters are incredibly selfish. Now, I don’t care if a book tells me a story about a selfish person and their exploits. Human beings are fairly selfish creatures, so nearly every story with a human being in it has some degree of self-centeredness to it. What I do hate is if a book tells me a story about a selfish person and glorifies and romanticizes it.

Dean and Sal only care about themselves and their goals. They talk this big talk about aspirations and meaning-of-life shit, but they don’t ever take other people into consideration. They expound upon the immensity of life and love, but they act as if they’re the only people on the planet with these thoughts. It’s frustrating as hell, enraging even.

It’s like they willingly trapped themselves into this egocentric state of mind, and then they spend the rest of their time talking about how self-obsessed everyone else is.

They sound so holier-than-thou, but I bet if you walked up to them and told them so, they would just shake their heads and say that you “don’t get it.”

This attitude of theirs is epitomized in the second-to-last chapter, when Sal suffers a fever during their trip to Mexico. Dean decides to head back to the States to be with one of his exes, leaving Sal, in the throes of his sickness and half-hallucinating, behind. Dean simply says he’s “got to get back to his life.”

Maybe what infuriates me so much is the fact that I actually know guys that act like Sal and Dean. I’m not going to name names (though there is a part of me that really wants to out these guys), but they are modern-day Dean Moriartys. They think the world of themselves and their viewpoints, but they never stop to consider what another person is feeling like.

For me, there is nothing romantic about On the Road.

I rate On the Road a read-it-if-you-feel-you-must-but-if-you-like-it-then-we-seriously-need-to-have-a-deep-literary-discussion-about-why-you-do-so-that-I-can-understand-where-you’re-coming-from-because-I-honestly-loathe-the-thing.

Literary Sins: Little Girl, You’re in the Middlemarch

When I tell people I have a love for British literature, everyone assumes I’m talking about Pride & Prejudice.

Um, no.

There are a lot of books that count as British literature. It’s not just Jane Austen and Charles Dickens.

Recently, I finished reading Middlemarch, a rather large novel by George Eliot. The book looks like a daunting read, with a thick spine, thin pages, and a tiny-ass font. But I knew Eliot. I had read Daniel Deronda a few years ago, so I was super excited to spend time with her writing style once again.

You have to like a certain kind of writing style to like Middlemarch. Eliot spends a lot of time diving into the minds of her characters. Entire chapters are devoted to the conflict in a person’s head when they have to make a decision. Perhaps the best example is when Mr. Bulstrode has to decide on how to treat an ill man resting in his house. (For those of you who have read the book, you know exactly which moment I’m talking about.)

These deep dives into a person’s mentality are simultaneously Middlemarch’s greatest strength and weakness. I’ll admit, reading paragraphs describing a person’s hesitancy before giving a speech can be a bit…much. But, in my opinion, it’s worth it in the long run.

Those chapters you spend learning about a person’s every inclination, motivation, and inspiration set you up for bombshell chapters when these characters come into conflict with each other. You understand where everyone is coming from. So even if there is a misunderstanding between the characters, who do not have the windows into the minds of others the way we do, we as readers know all.

You feel like a god looking down into the lives of these people. Knowing their fears, their flaws, their hopes.

Something I’ve noticed with British literature (though I hate to make generalizations) is a massive attention to detail. It often feels like there is an inordinate amount of focus given to descriptions, descriptions of thoughts, emotions, and material objects.

When I was younger, reading giant paragraphs describing a person’s obsession with their furniture would have irritated me.

Now, I’m hella riveted.

Side note: Pardon the teenage parlance.

The plot of Middlemarch can be boiled down to the story of two people: Dorothea Brooke and Tertius Lydgate. Both Dorothea and Tertius have high-minded goals for themselves. Dorothea, bound by restrictions determined by her sex, decides she wants to marry someone of like mind who wants to do good in the world, for humanity and all that. As his wife, she plans to assist her future husband in all his endeavors. Tertius, a doctor, wants to initiate medical reforms and advances that will create a lasting impact in his field.

Unfortunately, both Dorothea and Tertius are thwarted in their goals (temporarily in one of their cases) by imprudent marriages. Middlemarch is about their respective struggles in maintaining their ideals while adjusting to reality.

This is a very poor attempt at laying out the premise of Middlemarch. Reading it over, I feel like I’m doing the novel a disservice. I’m making it sound boring.

But that’s seriously part of Middlemarch’s charm. It doesn’t have an exotic story with drastic twists and turns. Rather, it showcases the extraordinary in the ordinary. Dorothea and Tertius are like you and me. They make poor choices, good choices, and in-between choices. They as characters resonate with you because of that.

And who hasn’t had their ideals dampened because of the onward rush of life?

The book is best described by its final sentence, which I will include here:

“…for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.”

George Eliot (Middlemarch)

I rate Middlemarch a best-book-I’ve-read-in-a-while-and-even-though-I-know-its-style-is-not-for-everyone-I’m-going-to-recommend-it-nevertheless-because-I-had-a-great-time-reading-it-and-I’m-selfish-that-way.

My Favorite Harry Potter Books Ranked

It’s time once again for another list-oriented post!

God, I love these things.

My boyfriend and I have just started playing the LEGO Harry Potter Collection together. About a day after The Gaming Diaries (a blog I really enjoy following) recommended the game to me, I found myself in a GameStop. What a kawinkadink!

I bought the game for me and Danny, and we dove into the strange LEGO world of Harry Potter. (We are rapidly becoming LEGO video game veterans. Which is maybe something I should not brag about.) We have worked our way through most of Harry’s early school years at Hogwarts, and it has gotten me reminiscing about the Harry Potter books. It’s been a while since I’ve read them, but the series was a huge part of my life. (Still is.)

And aside from my Hogwarts house analysis, I haven’t written much about them.

So welcome to my list of favorite Harry Potter books!

Please bear in mind that I’m a Below Average person and that these rankings are entirely subjective.

Let’s do this:

7. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Funnily enough, this is my sister’s favorite book from the series. And let’s get something straight. I don’t dislike any Harry Potter book. I just like some of them more than others. Prisoner of Azkaban never appealed to me for multiple reasons.

For one thing, I couldn’t get behind how emotional magic got. I know the Patronus Charm is now one of the staple spells of the Harry Potter universe, but when I was a kid, I thought it was kind of corny how only “happiness” could make the Patronus Charm work. And is it just me, or did no one ever explain why chocolate helps after a Dementor attack?

Another thing that bothered me was how easy it was for an innocent man to get framed for a crime he didn’t commit. This is a world of freaking wizards who can do magic. Why couldn’t one of them suss out the fact that Sirius Black did not kill Peter Pettigrew? Did no one think to use Veritaserum on Sirius?

Did like the idea of school trips to Hogsmeade though. That seemed nifty.

6. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Call me old fashioned, but I missed the simplicity of Harry, Ron, and Hermione at school. I get that as the seventh and final book, things had to get gritty and real as they sought to destroy Horcruxes out in the world. But I found myself missing Hogwarts more than I thought I would.

There’s something about the school that centers a Harry Potter story. Without the school as the primary setting, it didn’t feel like a Harry Potter story. It felt like…well, it felt like a story.

Of course, it is extremely difficult to finish off an epic tale and leave everyone satisfied. I like The Deathly Hallows for that sense of finality you get when you close the pages. Once it ended, I was perfectly content knowing that I might never visit Hogwarts in a book again.

Annnnnnnnd then The Cursed Child came out.

5. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

People call this the darkest book in the Harry Potter series, and they would not be wrong. Sirius Black, the beloved godfather of Harry Potter, just bites the dust in this book. And I remember when I read the part when Harry is yelling at Dumbledore afterwards, I was crying.

That’s not to say the book doesn’t have its positive features. Having Harry teach proper Defense Against The Dark Arts classes and start Dumbledore’s Army was legitimately bad-ass. And Professor Umbridge is one of the most terrifying villains I have ever come across in a book.

And I like Stephen King.

However, this book also includes Harry’s whiny teenager phase. And snogging.

4. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone

More than any of the other books in the series, The Sorcerer’s Stone is a kids book. I read it in elementary school, and that’s what hooked me on the series.

The reason it ranks so high on this list is because it’s the original. It’s the first. It’s the one that started them all.

The Sorcerer’s Stone was not only Harry’s introduction to the Wizarding world; it was ours.

3. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

The best villains in stories are usually those that you don’t know too much about. If you’re going for a big bad that maintains that same level of terror in you, it’s best to keep a lid on the details of his or her sordid past.

Voldemort was the constant terror of Harry’s life, and in The Half-Blood Prince, we got to take a closer look at his past in all those lessons that Dumbledore started giving Harry. He became more nuanced, and Wizarding history got a bit deeper, or at least our understanding of it did. Our examination of his early childhood did not diminish our wariness of his current form.

Plus, you’ve got to love all that romance stuff that was happening while Voldemort’s past was being showcased to us.

Ron and Hermione. I’ll never understand it.

2. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

I don’t know why I love The Chamber of Secrets so much.

Maybe it’s because we got introduced to the lives of an ordinary Wizarding family like the Weasleys.

Maybe it’s because Gilderoy Lockhart is one of the most hilarious teacher caricatures in the history of Hogwarts.

Maybe because the mystery of the Chamber was just that compelling.

Who knows.

1. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Hands down my favorite.

I loved everything about this book. The tournament, the other Wizarding Schools, the headlines, the champions.

Plus, while it was heart-wrenching to read through, I liked how Ron and Harry got into that big fight after Harry’s name came out of the Goblet. It must have been difficult for Ron to have to be the famous Harry Potter’s best friend. And while it was a dick move to be jealous of your friend who has been thrust into a life-threatening situation against their will, it was, dare I say it, relatable. I think Harry, and readers, took Ron for granted prior to this book.

This big tome of a book was the first Harry Potter book (for me at least) that took a turn for the serious, the more mature. With the death of Cedric Diggory, the stakes were definitely raised.

Also, one of the great things about reading the series as a kid was how you grew up alongside the characters. I never felt that this was more apparent than while reading The Goblet of Fire.

So which Harry Potter books are your favorite? I understand if you can’t pick. It took me days of ponderous thought to come up with this list.

Top 5 Favorite Stephen King Books

I’m not the only person who loves Stephen King’s writing. His popularity can attest to that. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t write a post about it.

You see, Stephen King holds a special place in my heart. He was the first author that showed me how raw story-telling could be. Prior to reading one of his books, I had mostly stuck to classics. I read things like 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and Tom Sawyer. They could be romping good adventures, but they were dry reads.

But when I was 11-years old, I picked up my first Stephen King book. It was The Dark Half. I was blown away. (And that’s not even his best book!)

King has a style of writing that worms its way into the heads of his characters. It’s choppy and messy sometimes, but it’s engrossing as heck. You not only feel what they feel, but you find yourself realizing you’ve had the same thoughts on your own (which can be disturbing, depending on which character you’re empathizing with).

Plus, I find the concepts Stephen King comes up with are phenomenal. They are simultaneously the stuff of legends and trashy pulp fiction.

He’s not for everyone. I get that. But if you don’t try him out at least once, you’ll be missing out on one of the best contemporary writers of our age.

Here’s a list of my top 5 favorite Stephen King books!

5. Under the Dome

Perhaps better than he writes fantastical monsters, King knows how to write real monsters, the kind that actually inhabit our world. Bullies with more than a simple sadistic streak, corrupt politicians with lies instead of blood running through their veins, and alcoholic fathers trapped in a body of rage and drink. Under the Dome is not a great read because of the giant invisible sphere the mysteriously encloses a small town. It’s a great read because of what happens after. You get to see what the town devolves into, and the best part is that it happens so slowly. Things just don’t erupt into chaos. Panic sets in after days and weeks go by. It’s a slow build-up, and the true horror lies in how you can actually picture some of your own town’s denizens going crazy in the same way.

4. The Mist

This was more of a novella than a novel, but I included it on this list for one simple reason. It’s the first book that ever really scared me. And by “scared,” I mean it scared me. I don’t know what it was about it exactly. Maybe it’s because I read it in one go, never stopping for a break. Maybe because monsters coming out of an impenetrable mist is particularly horrifying to me. Whatever the reason, with every word I read of The Mist, my heart started to pound harder and harder. I would recommend The Mist easily to first-time King readers because it has a sprinkling of everything that makes King King. It has grotesque creatures, creepy old ladies, random sex between strangers, and an ambiguous ending.

3. Christine

For me, Christine was what The Shining was to other King fans. The best/worst part of The Shining was the father’s fall from Nice Dad to Psychotic Dad. In Christine, the best/worst part was seeing Archie’s fall from Lovable Nerd to Douche-In-The-Making. And I love the perspective changes that occur. I don’t always like it when the narrator abruptly switches to another person, but it really worked for me in Christine. Plus, there was a tiny part of me that rooted for Christine, the evil car that takes over Archie’s life. After all, if you think about it, all she really wanted was to be the one thing in Archie’s life. She even “took care” of some nasty bullies that would not get off Archie’s back.

2. It

Of course It made the list. It’s a classic Stephen King story, complete with childhood nostalgia. I read It in 8th grade. It was a hefty read, but totally worth it. It creeped me out right from the very first chapters. The story of how little Georgie Denbrough lost his arm chilled me to the bone. I almost stopped reading it right there. But thankfully I continued, and the best part of reading It was being able to recommend it to my sister. For the longest time, Alya was a Dean Koontz fan, to which I always scoffed, “Koontz is Stephen King-lite. You want the real thing, go King.” I would only recommend It to people who a) enjoy a long read, b) are already a Stephen King fan, and c) won’t be turned off by a strange-as-fudge adolescent sex scene.

1. The Stand

The Stand is Stephen King’s masterpiece. Not only is its immensity impressive, the scope of the story is daunting. It’s akin to Game of Thrones. It follows the stories of several characters as they each experience the end of the world at the hands of the Captain Trips virus. The book then moves beyond that event and tells you the epic saga of what happens to these characters after the virus has wiped out most of the population. The Stand is huge, and I love it because it was the book that made me want to write. I would recommend this book if you have a love for apocalypse stories, really obvious themes of good and evil, or seeing main characters bite the dust.

The Pain of Thrones

I don’t watch much TV.

The shows I watch can be counted by my fingers.

One of those shows is Game of Thrones.

I am a Thronie.

My sister introduced me to the books. She started reading them in high school, and she swore up and down that it was the best fantasy series she had ever read. I picked the books up and haven’t put them down since.

There is a deep lore to dive into, with characters so nuanced, it’s impossible not to sympathize with them all. And the show has done a phenomenal job of capturing the essence of the books.

The show’s final season premieres on April 14, and while I’m staying at my sister’s, we have decided to watch the show again from the very first episode so that we can be prepared for the new season.

It’s going to be a tumultuous ride.

For those of you who have seen the show, you know about the emotional roller coaster we’re going to be on.

For those of you who haven’t seen the show, I’m going to do what anyone who has fallen in love with Game of Thrones would do.

I’m going to recommend it to you.

The final season of the show will be the eighth, so there are not a tremendous amount of episodes to binge on. It is a feasible endeavor. While the lore is extensive, it’s not so dense that you won’t be able to enjoy the story. And I can’t praise the story enough. Unlike some shows that seem to have no coherent ending in sight (*cough cough* The Walking Dead *cough cough*), Game of Thrones has a (fairly) compact tale to tell. As a result, the quality of each episode is above average.

As you may have heard, the show can be heart-rending at times. The deaths of beloved characters are not uncommon. But I promise you, their deaths are not pointless, especially as the end of the show draws near and you can see where the plot is heading. And at least as far as the seventh season goes, I can say that Game of Thrones is the best television show I have ever seen.

I won’t spoil the show here with a lengthy review, but when the new season comes out, expect some posts extolling or condemning it to be published. You’ve been warned.

Have you seen Game of Thrones? Are you planning to? Feel free to talk about your Game of Thrones experiences in the comments.

(Bubba, Mia, the two of you are going to watch the new season with me, yes? I’ll bring the popcorn, you guys bring the tissues.)

The Literature of Halo

For this particular post, I thought I’d give a shout-out to the expanded Halo lore that has sprung up in the bountiful form of books.

Halo is my all-time favorite video game, and part of the reason it has branded itself onto the chamber walls of my heart is because of those books.

I won’t go into the exact details of Halo’s story here, but if you want to, you can check out these Below Average synopsis posts I made for Halo: Combat Evolved and Halo 2 by clicking on them links.

Side note: The synopsis for Halo 3 is coming eventually. I haven’t forgotten about it.

I will, however, talk about the benefits the Halo books lend to the games, my favorites, and how the games should incorporate the lore in the future.

The best kind of Halo books have little to do with the events of the games. They tell compact stories within the Halo universe revolving around characters we barely see in the games. For example, Contact Harvest by Joseph Staten tells the backstory of a side character from the first game, and damn if he didn’t make the character of Avery Johnson more popular by doing so.

That’s a great example of my favorite kind of Halo book.

A book like The Flood is the complete opposite of that.

The Flood by William C. Dietz is a retelling of the plot of the first game. I mean, I’m a total lore-nerd when it comes to Halo, so I did enjoy reading the book. Plus, it gave me some hints about secrets in the game. However, in terms of an objective reading experience, you could kind of tell that the novel was a bit derivative.

So the best Halo books add to a universe that we’ve glimpsed in the games. Playing a Halo game is like visiting an exotic new location. Reading a Halo book is like hiring a tour guide to tell you about the places you are walking through.

Now, if the average layman were to pick up a random Halo book from their local Barnes & Noble, I’m not going to lie, they’d probably get a bit lost. Many of the plots rely on the fact that readers will know certain aspects of the Halo universe. Since I have played all the games and been immersed in the lore since high school, it’s actually pretty difficult for me to discern what will be obtuse to a newcomer or what will make sense.

But if I were to recommend Halo books to anybody, here are the five I would choose:

1. Halo: The Fall of Reach by Eric Nyland: This is a classic Halo book, perhaps the classic, and it would be the best start for a newcomer. It describes the events before the first game, setting up the story of the main character and the war he finds himself thrust in. You’ll learn what the SPARTAN program is and how the war with the Covenant escalated. I know certain Halo fans dislike how the story conflicts with the plot of the game Halo: Reach, but I like both, and I take them on as separate entities in the same universe.

2. Halo: Cryptum by Greg Bear: This is the first book of The Forerunner Saga, and even though it’s a strange read, I adore it. The plot takes place millennia before the plot of the first game. It talks of the Forerunners, the ancient alien race that built the Halo rings and battled the Flood before Master Chief did. The book is written with a weird syntax which takes some getting used to, but after a while, I appreciated it. The Forerunners should speak and act differently from how a human would, and the book reflects that. A word of caution though: be prepared to interpret things freely as you read. And the best delight this book brought to me came from revelations that tied to the games. I would not recommend this book to a newcomer unless they are committed to reading more lore.

3. Halo: Glasslands by Karen Traviss: This is just a well-written book. Straight-up awesome writing. The Halo games have trouble translating the human nature of characters into the games (with a few exceptions), and this book excels at making these characters feel real. Traviss tells the story of a special ops group comprised of different members from different branches of the United Nations Space Command. They each have had different experiences in the Covenant War, and it shaped who they are and how they approach the situation they find themselves in.

4. Halo: Broken Circle by John Shirley: This book wowed me by making Prophets seem sympathetic. (Well, certain Prophets.) Any Halo fan can tell you that the Prophets are a race of aliens in the Covenant that only come across as religious fanatics or manipulative schemers in the games. The Prophets, or San’Shyuum as they call themselves, are not to be contained by such representations thanks to this book. It shows us what they were like before they became a political nightmare. It also gives a narrative for how the Covenant came together. (The Covenant being a group of different alien races that banded together to find the Halo rings and destroy humanity.)

5. Halo: Last Light by Troy Denning: I discovered Troy Denning waaaay too late. I have since been rectifying that, and several of his Halo books are on my to-read list. Last Light is my favorite so far. He gives us a closer look at the Spartan-IIIs, and he tells a close-knit story that is separate from the events of the games. It also helps that his main character, Veta Lopis, is an outsider to the UNSC. You get to experience her reactions to the Spartans as she sees what they can do for the first time.

Now, I love lore as much as the next person, but I do have problems when the games include too much of it. My favorite Halo games are the first one and Halo:Reach, and they both have a story that relies more on its setting than on plot points. It allows the player to draw conclusions on their own without shoving too much narrative down their throats.

Side note: I do like narrative-heavy video games. But Halo has never been about a heavy narrative, not in the in the original games at least. And I liked them that way.

Halo 5: Guardians handled its narrative all wrong. It made the mistake of trying to jam too much lore into every seam of the game. With so much lore dripping out of it, the actual story of the game lost its tightness. Plus, it made it so that only a person who had read every bit of lore could enjoy the game with a thorough understanding of the characters.

I believe future games should return to the story-telling habits of the first ones. Less can be more, show don’t tell, and, for the ever-loving love of god, GIVE US BACK COUCH CO-OP.

To come to a conclusion, I just want to say that the Halo universe is a rich one, oozing with science-fiction possibilities. If you want to get into it, don’t let the growing library of books supporting it daunt you. Pick one up and get ready for some excitement. (But seriously, at least start with The Fall of Reach.)