Tweet
When I think about Half-Life the very first things that come to mind are crowbar, intro sequence, that first broken elevator, Xen, the noise of a face-hugger… Memories pour in, dozens of them, faster than I can keep up with. There are few games that my brain stores in such detail. But of everything in the game, I think the most exciting, most thrilling moment, was that time when the enemy soldiers started fighting the enemy aliens.
I’m sure there are examples of this happening in a dozen earlier games, perhaps even some I played, but this was the moment for me when a game became something bigger. It was taking place despite me. Not in the horrible way now too familiar in modern shooters, where the realisation of your own irrelevance renders the whole experience moot. But in a way where if I didn’t shoot them first, they might start shooting each other. I could watch the game taking place in front of me, without my being directly involved in it. Then leap in when it suited.
Half-Life had already developed a sense of place like no game before it. Despite the outlandish sci-fi tale, it created a real-world environment like nothing else. In fact, I remember the first time I saw screenshots of it in a PC Gamer preview, my brain almost couldn’t comprehend that someone was going to set an FPS in a recognisable location – offices like offices I’d been in. (It wasn’t until I first visited Seattle years later, and rode the airport’s monorail, that I was aware how true to life that bit was as well.) So with an Earthly foundation, then having this moment of autonomous warfare amongst the AI created something utterly incredible. Or indeed credible. That’s stuck with me ever since.
I’m sure there are examples of this happening in a dozen earlier games, perhaps even some I played, but this was the moment for me when a game became something bigger. It was taking place despite me. Not in the horrible way now too familiar in modern shooters, where the realisation of your own irrelevance renders the whole experience moot. But in a way where if I didn’t shoot them first, they might start shooting each other. I could watch the game taking place in front of me, without my being directly involved in it. Then leap in when it suited.
Half-Life had already developed a sense of place like no game before it. Despite the outlandish sci-fi tale, it created a real-world environment like nothing else. In fact, I remember the first time I saw screenshots of it in a PC Gamer preview, my brain almost couldn’t comprehend that someone was going to set an FPS in a recognisable location – offices like offices I’d been in. (It wasn’t until I first visited Seattle years later, and rode the airport’s monorail, that I was aware how true to life that bit was as well.) So with an Earthly foundation, then having this moment of autonomous warfare amongst the AI created something utterly incredible. Or indeed credible. That’s stuck with me ever since.
Others from the staff share their fond memories of the game that started it all. As for me? Well, without Half-Life, Counter-Strike wouldn't exist. Without Counter-Strike, CS-Nation would have never existed. Without CS-Nation, I wouldn't be here today typing this news up.
We may never have had Team Fortress 2 to enjoy, at least not in the style it does. There may not have even been Steam had Valve not found success with the Half-Life franchise. There would be no Left 4 Dead, possibly no Portal franchise either. Most importantly, Ricochet would have never existed, and that is perhaps the most troubling thought of all.
