What Does Master Chief Mean to You?

It’s not often that I’m left baffled and speechless…well, barring the Percy Jackson movie from a few years back. But it’s not often where I can stare at a product -- story, video game, what have you -- and walk away from it without the ability to say anything meaningful about it.

That’s how I feel whenever I cross paths with Halo -- and consistently, at that.

I…just don’t get Halo, I guess. I had a GameCube last generation, so I outside of five minutes playing in the middle of the campaign with a cousin, I don’t have any fond memories of the original. When my brother got a 360, he grabbed a cheap copy of Halo 2 in preparation for 3 -- in spite of playing it maybe four times in all. We DID beat the campaign in 3 together, and played a fair amount of the multiplayer (like about half the planet), but there was still a big disconnect for a gamer jumping into the series so late. I think The Arbiter’s cool -- certainly helps that he’s voiced by the testosterone-laden siren Keith David -- but there’s still a lot I’m missing about him. Like a sheep (a sheep in the sense that he wasn’t a fan of the franchise and he wanted the game because…because), my brother grabbed Halo: Reach. It didn’t leave much of an impression, and that’s about the nicest thing I can say about it; it reached a point where, upon a visit to GameStop and spotting a Reach action figure with a soldier standing atop a rock, I joked that the rock was the most well-developed character and most noble hero of the bunch. Oh, and ODST was a thing that happened, I guess.



So yeah, I’m not exactly a storm of loyalty when it comes to Halo. I can’t bring myself to HATE it, because I recognize that it’s a series that brings a lot of joy to a lot of people, and as I understand it there’s been plenty of world-building to flesh it out beyond shootin’ and jumpin’. But I can’t bring myself to LOVE it, because -- and I stress this is opinion alone -- I find it bland and repetitive, and at least as far as the games go it’s an ultimately shallow experience. As an English teacher of mine would put it, it’s like popcorn; it tastes good and it’s a mainstay of certain experiences, but it’s a snack. Fluff food. Nothing more, nothing less.

And now Halo 4 is on the way. If I know my brother’s impulsive game-buying habits, it’s only a matter of time before he rolls home with a copy in hand. Right now, I can’t bring myself to respond with anything besides a resounding “meh.” It’ll be well-put together, and have some spiffy gameplay bells and whistles, and present everything in glorious HD graphics, but…I’m so neutral it’s almost painful.



I think the root of my problem is that I don’t really have a feel for Master Chief. I could take the scumbag route and say “It’s because he doesn’t have a personality; he’s just a cipher for gamers to superimpose themselves atop!” But I know that’s not true, and certainly not fair to the dedicated and knowledgeable fans. It’s just that often I find myself defining a game according to its main characters. It’s probably an underlying reason for my hatred of Final Fantasy XIII, but there are other applications. Like how I prefer Dante and his games over Kratos and his games. Or how I think Skyward Sword is actually a surprisingly deep game, in spite of -- or maybe because of -- the silent protagonist in a silly green hat. Or why BlazBlue has one of my favorite casts among any fighting game…and by extension, is a serious contender for my favorite fighting game. Characters can mold, if not completely decide, the shape of a story into something wonderful (like Ezio), or something horrifying (like Busby).

So what kind of shape does Master Chief impart on the Halo franchise? Even though I’m wildly out of my element, I could hazard a guess. The silent, stoic warrior; the masked man whose foot-thick armor pales in comparison to his hardened resolve; the soldier who always gets the job done, preferring to speak with his weapon, and knowing that diplomacy alone isn’t enough to turn the tide. Someone that appears to be colorless may be anything but; he’s just rigidly devoted to completing the mission (though his loyalty to Cortana speaks volumes). For that, I’d say he’s pretty admirable. Not my cup of tea, but admirable nonetheless.



On the other hand, he could be exactly what the naysayers suggest: little more than a blank slate. I’m of the opinion that FPSes in general don’t lend themselves to making players resonate with a character (though that’s a broad statement, and I know there are counter-examples out there), but Master Chief may have codified it. I’m having a hell of a time remembering anything substantial the Spartan said during Halo 3 outside of a few one-liners. True, actions speak louder than words, but that doesn’t mean words are useless. Even at their worst, silent protagonists like Link or several Shin Megami Tensei leads manage to create a character (Skyward Sword had Link’s personality conveyed through his expressions and reactions and a few dialogue choices; meanwhile, even games as low-budget as Devil Survivor had branching dialogue, and a few still sprites of the hero’s face). I think we can at least agree that a character, regardless of medium, needs to leave an impact on us. So why has Master Chief done nothing of the sort for me? Why is it that I find the people around the chief more interesting than the leading man himself? Come to think of it, doesn’t “Master Chief” sound bland at best and ridiculous at worst? And with his real name being John (as far as I know), does that really help things? Was his last name Generic at one point?

It seems like there’s a pretty big divide, now that I think about it. For argument’s sake, let’s have a look at Link through the years.



Now let’s have a look at Master Chief through the years.



There’s no denying that one of them has seen a lot more different art styles -- certainly because he’s spent a lot more time kicking around. But there’s one advantage Link has that Chief has yet to tap.

His face.

You never really realize how much you miss a face until it’s not there anymore. But supposedly, people are hardwired to recognize and find faces. It’s why we say there’s a man on the moon. It’s why as babies, one of the first things we learn to recognize is a face. It’s why there are disorders devoted to lacking an ability to recognize faces. They’re important. They show emotion. Thoughts, opinions, approval and disapproval. Now consider that part of the reason for The Wind Waker’s art style was to put an emphasis on Link’s expressions. Given that, consider that even in Halo: Reach, seeing one of Noble Team’s faces meant they were about five minutes away from death. Do you see why there might be a problem with Master Chief?

But it’s a problem that I don’t want to have. I want something to latch onto, just as others already have. What makes this character great? What makes him special? What makes him and his like-armored cohorts worthy of appearing in a couple of episodes of The Simpsons? I’m willing to accept the no-face thing (particularly if he looks like Deadpool or Darth Vader under there), but whatever the case I need something of substance. So if someone asks me, “Hey Voltech. What makes Master Chief so great?” And then I’d bust out a mile-long scroll of reasons why, in spite of his apparent shallowness, he -- and his game, by extension -- can actually be pretty deep if you give him the chance.



And I want to give him that chance. But I’ll need your help, Dtoiders. So let me hear it: just what does Master Chief mean to you?