I am a Halo fan. Perhaps not a Halo fanboy, but I loved the past two games, read all the books, got the graphic novel from my girlfriend for my birthday, etc. So I went to the midnight release at the EB Games at Crossgates Mall, in Albany, New York. My three compatriots and I had all pre-ordered the game, and vowed to play it until we beat campaign. Sleep is for pussbags with responsibilities they can't shirk. Yeah, all of you with jobs and classes to attend. Pussbags, the lot of you.

We arrived at approximately 10:15, due to some prior commitments that evening, and by this time the line was already absurdly long. This was expected though, as Halo 3 received more hype than George W. Bush draws ignorant criticism on Digg. What was not expected though, was the lack of joy. All of these people came, skipping out of work, school, and child care, to get Halo 3, but someone who had been living in a cave with no video games would have thought that he had been in the cave so long that he had magically been transported back to the 1930s, and was gazing upon a Depression-era soup kitchen line. Only, it was worse, because there was no soup in sight. Like a scene out of Dead Rising, the seething mass of Halo fans, swayed slightly, their faces vacant of expression. What could have caused these rabid fans to lose their edge already?

We headed towards the back of the line. Attitudes back there improved, despite knowledge of a long wait to come. I chatted with those surrounding me, and to my amusement found that one of them was writing a paper for class bout the evening's events. He saw a young man practically quivering with anticipation as he talked to the disinterested mother of a younger boy behind him, and began to scribble furiously in his notebook. Some lucky professor is going to end up with a very enjoyable read.



That was when the dame walked in.

Standing no higher than my shoulder, and easily weighing over 200 pounds, she was by no means a handsome woman. But she moved with a sense of power and purpose that drew every eye on that line as she emerged from the F.Y.E that was her domain. F.Y.E., the entertainment retailer that stood in the shadow of the Best Buy across the way, was her kingdom, and she its queen. Clad in camouflage-patterned pants, with the sleeves of her T-shirt rolled up to her elbows, she bellowed to those awaiting eternal Spartan glory, "I've got 80 copies and nobody on my line. What are you all doing over there?" The feral creatures eagerly awaiting their spoils perked up at this, a chance to have their copy of Halo 3 a few moments sooner. Their eyes gleamed with a barely restrained hunger. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, and they cried as one, "But the filthy hobbitses has our pre-orders, Precious!"

"You can get your money back!" she replied. "We've got cookies and soda too. What the hell are you all doing over there?" Not only was her argument sound, but she looked as if she might challenge every person in line to single combat to get them to her store. If that occurred, her line would end up a great deal longer. She was a formidable woman to say the least. Some clusters amongst the EB line began to murmur excitedly, weighing their options. My foursome did the same. Soda? Cookies? This was the sort of launch night I had come for. EB games had nothing, nada, nien, zip, zero, zilch, not the slightest bit of entertainment available. An EB Games Overseer noted the wavering in the ranks, and made an attempt to salvage the situation. He injected an entire bottle of Mountain Dew Gamefuel directly into his cerebral cortex, and began to walk up and down the line, screaming uncontrollably. "HALO! YEAH! WOOOOO!" he repeated, three dozen time, and a feeble cheer went up from the line in response. My compatriots and I nodded to each other. Preorder or no, cookies are fucking great.

We were the first of the turncloaks that evening. Another burly-looking fellow followed almost immediately. Upon arrival at "the other side", Butch Woman Manager appeared again with a case of Gamefuel and began handing out cans to the 20 or so people in the line. One of her minions followed with an enormous box of cookies, which ended up being simply delightful. Just inside the window, an employee began playing the game at one of the Xbox360 stations within the store, to keep those in line entertained as they stood there. Truly, the service at F.Y.E. was proving to be far superior. One of my friends is a health nut, and refused the Gamefuel, but asked Butch Woman Manager where the nearest water fountain was. She refused to let him leave the line. At my friend's look of shock and confusion she said, "I'm not gonna let you lose your place, honey. I'll get you a glass of water." Truly, beauty is only skin deep, for this woman was obviously an angel of the Lord, hired by Microsoft and placed upon this Earth to show mercy to Halo fans.

Around 11:00 PM, it was announced that the doors would open at 11:30 to the tune of more cookies and soda, plus TRIVIA and PRIZES. We smiled at one another, knowing we had made the right decision in changing sides. By this time, the line had more than doubled in size. To pass the time, I turned my attention to those who had ended up in line around us. In front of our group has a short, pudgy man of dubious hygiene who looked to be in his mid-40s. For the purposes of this article, I shall call him Eugene. Eugene had pre-ordered his copy back when Halo 2 came out, and was upset that he had done so before learning about the Trifecta of Halo editions. He was also interested in hearing what I had to say about every comic book movie that will come out in the next decade. Behind me was a gentleman I dubbed Cornelius Francis Wingfield III. How to describe Cornelius? I'll use his own words to illustrate his upstanding character. "If that lady said I could get my copy now, but I had to kill five people in the other line to get it, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I'd just go out to my truck, I'm sure I've got something in there, come back, kill those fuckers, and get my copy." If he couldn't find anything in his truck, he could always just strangle them with his mustache, the fibers of which contained enough manliness to destroy a planet. Cornelius owns a tree-moving business. He uproots trees with his bare hands, puts them on the back of his blue ox, Babe, and moves the elsewhere. He does very well for himself, and spends his fortune on consumer electronics as opposed to laundry. Oddly enough, he's also extremely funny, in a, "if you laugh, I'll spare your life" sort of way. We had some good laughs together.

The floodgates opened at 11:30, right on schedule. Butch Woman Manager got the trivia contest underway immediately, the questions being read off a crumpled sheet of looseleaf paper. She went down the line, asking questions. Those who answered correctly could choose a prize from the magic box, made of the finest cardboard wampum can buy. She got to me and of course, having read all the books and other literature like a big loser, answered correctly. I came to the box, hoping for all sorts of Halo stickers, hats, and noisemakers. Instead, I found a box of assorted anime toy factory rejects that they needed to get rid of so they could use the dank corner of the back room it was stored in for something else they couldn't sell. I dug through the items frantically, knowing there had to be something worth at least 25 cents. I was correct. I came back to the surface after my excavation of the magic box, triumphantly holding an action figure of Jet, from the hit show D.I.C.E. Though I had no idea what D.I.C.E. was, robots are cool, and I now had a figurine of one.

More cookies and soda were had. They were still delightful.



The buzz from the crowd got louder and louder until Butch Manager Woman called, "One minute!" Collectively, we looked at our cell phones and watches and declared, "No, it's midnight now, DO IT!" The employees opened the five registers simultaneously, and so it began. I was third in my line. Each copy that was purchased was held up by its proud new owner to a cheer from those around him. The camaraderie of the whole thing was really quite touching. I reached the register. "One copy of Halo please." "Did you pre-order?" I thought to myself, 'Yes, but not here. With your excellent service and snacks, you won me to your cause of not utterly failing in getting your copies of Halo to sell out completely. I salute you, young register girl. You have done well upon this night.'

"No," I replied. The transaction was completed, and I held up my copy for the crowd to cheer at. In my mind, the "Bah nah nah nah!" of receiving an item in Zelda sounded in my head, though I certainly wasn't going to relegate a game of such magnitude to such an unworthy button as C left, down, or right. I bid farewell to my newfound line friends, and we exited the store at 12:06.

It was time to finish the fight.