Day after day, after school or on the weekends, I booted up Halo 2 on our Xbox. I ended up dedicating a couple years to this pursuit. I didn’t care who I was matched up with in the Xbox Live lobbies, or that they were complete strangers I would be the best preteen Halo 2 player anyone has ever seen. And so I dove into the world of Xbox Live multiplayer, first along with my dad, and later by myself. After hearing Master Chief’s impossibly cool last line, “Sir, finishing this fight,” I had decided: My fight wasn’t finished yet either. But I was no stranger to shooter games, especially Halo, having played through co-op campaign after campaign with my dad on Halo 2. Sure, the sudden outburst from my new robot friend was off-putting. Despite their cordiality, their patience wore thin by about the fifth time I asked, and I was finally met with a very un-monotone “SHUT UP.” Instead, I was met with a monotone voice garbled to the point of sounding robotic. I put on the headset and said my greeting, but I wasn’t met with the instant camaraderie I was expecting. I was 10 years old, still in elementary school, and ready to make my Xbox Live debut. After seeing my older brother had left an idle shooter game on the TV, in our basement, I made the obvious choice: I decided it was the perfect opportunity to be cool like him and delve into the world of online multiplayer games.

My virtual girl pc