He must learn to get along with his fellow haloers.
Unfortunetly..HE'S A GODDAM N00B!!!!!!!!!
"Hmmm...what should I call myself..." wondered aloud the noob.
"I need a name that people will respect, and understand..."
"I've got it! From now on, I will be known as...FLYING CRAP" shouted the noob with glee.
For now we will just call him FC.
As the big FC boots up Halo for the first time he ponders...
"I hope it's meetloaf night..."
"Did I spell meetloaf right?"
"Oh, consarnit! I didn't"
"I'm sorry, I meant to say that I hope it's meatloaf night..."
"Wait- is meatloaf hiphenated?"
"Did I spell hiphen right-"
"Just get on with it you retarded n00bz0r!" shouts the computer, rudely interuppting FC.
Finally, Halo boots on the Windows 95 with half a grafics card and some nacho cheese chips jammed in the hard drive.
"OK, I think I will start with trying my skills on the campaign" mumbles FC.
He clicks the campaing button and-
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but you didn't spell campaign right.." says FC while jamming his face with licorice flavored tofu.
Well, back to what I was saying, I like big butts and I cannot lie-
Oh wait, wrong line...ahem
So, as the first level loads FC watches in amazement as a stunning cut scene
featuring some UNSC ship personell doing stuff unfolds and a mangey
seargent talks to some horribly animated marines-
Suddenly Seargent Johnson appears and interrupts me again.
"Who you callin mangey foo?" the scraggly Seargent shouts.
"Now I'm scraggly eh?" comes his dilapitated come back.
"And who you callin horribly animated?" shoutes a heavily pimpled marine.
but unfortunetely the big FC has been reading a long and now opens his mouth.
"I have noticed several spelling mistakes-" he says but gets cut-off.
"SHUT UP U STUPID N00B!!!" we all shout in unison.
OK, so the game starts and he barely passes all the calibration tests.
Finally he sees some covenant.
He finds a striking resemblence between some grunts and his mom, but thinks nothing of it.
There is a speaker vibratingly loud noise and a blue elite appears.
FC screams and cowers behind his 3rd generation office chair.
The Elite points and shouts in a throaty roar"wort wort wort!"
FC is incredibly hurt by the rudeness of pointing and thinks the elite is making fun of his
worty thumbs.
"I vow never to play campaign again, it's too mean. I guess I'll just go play multiplayer." FC groans.