"April 2560. As the Office of Naval Intelligence investigates a derelict cruiser belonging to the ancient human Ancestors, strange effects begin to take hold of the crew."
[table] [tr] [td]Archeohomina: An Introduction[/td] [td]‘Guide to Protogenic Civilizations’ by K. Iyuska[/td] [td]‘San’Shyuum: Past, Present, Future?’ by C. Lux[/td] [/tr] [tr] [td]Requiem Terminal Dialogues, recovered by S-117[/td] [td]Bornstellar Relation Transcript Excerpts[/td] [td]ONI Xeno-Materials Exploitation Report 15Y1198[/td] [/tr] [/table]
They say that the key to the future lies in our past.
Given everything we’ve learned in recent years I’m inclined to give credence to the notion.
Research in this field is still in its infancy, of course, and our resources are extraordinarily limited—especially given the present state of the galaxy. But we are already making great strides towards learning more about who we once were.
The summarized version: This is not humanity’s first go-around as a space faring civilization. We were, in fact, a contemporary and rival of the Forerunners over a hundred millennia ago.
These Ancestors of ours moved their empire towards the galactic margin, inhabiting presently unexplored areas of space, which accounts for why we have thus far discovered only a scant few traces of their existence—also accounting for the cultural and genetic reduction that the Forerunners imposed after their war against these humans was won.
Key to our current research is the discovery at Site Yankee-002-G3. A lone Ancestor ship, fully intact. While the modern incarnation of our kind were still huddled in caves, this vessel drifted silently through space… just waiting to be found.
A few dozen researchers have been aboard. I’ve got them in rotating shifts. The control group are given just eight hours to access the ship and conduct their analyses before a thirty-six hour “cooldown” period, during which time the other teams are cycled in to operate. It should be noted that this rhythm we’ve put in place goes beyond the standard notion of healthy respite; the ship itself seems to have strange effects on the researchers after prolonged exposure to it. The exact nature of the correlation between duration and influence is something we’ve still yet to determine.
I have attached some of the incident reports for your perusal, and I am sure you will agree that this is currently the most prudent course of action. We must balance further encouragement of these odd developments with our capacity to continue standard research.
I will follow up soon as further developments come to light.
INCIDENT REPORT 003 FILED BY: 01736-19013-SN
I know we work long hours, but I’m concerned about Jackson. He looks like he’s sleepwalking half the time, he moves like none of the rest of us are even there—he keeps bumping into me while muttering under his breath. Managed to listen in one time and he’s just saying all of our names over and over again. What the hell is that about?
INCIDENT REPORT 008 FILED BY: 02961-30002-DS
I reprimanded Horne earlier today for ignoring his duties. We’ve got a tight timeline to work with while aboard this ship and I caught him skulking around, saying he was trying to find the source of a hum that kept moving whenever he got close to it. I don’t hear any hum, he’s either messing me about or he’s in need of a psychological evaluation.
INCIDENT REPORT 012 FILED BY: 05126-89937-PH
Asked Jerry what was on his to-do list today when he said he was watching the walls. I said, What? What’s that supposed to mean? He said he sees things moving in them. Shadows. I said it’s probably just the rest of our team in the room getting set up. He said no, there are too many.
INCIDENT REPORT 013 FILED BY: 01948-20112-NM
Ever since we found that suit apparatus that we adapted into Project ENOCH, Hudson has gone completely non-verbal—he just presses his lips together like he’s trying to whistle but doesn’t make a sound. I’m concerned about the null state stasis containers as well. An eclectic variety of objects not accounted for by our inventory have been brought aboard. Holloway swears she saw Hudson laying out his morbid collection of alien bones on the floor, as if it was some kind of ritualistic offering, but when she got another pair of eyes over there they had gone without a trace. I really need some shore leave…
INCIDENT REPORT 015 FILED BY: 09136-77903-JF
Had the strangest conversation with Nicholas today and I’m not sure what to make of it. He started talking about his wife back home—strange, of course, because as far as I know he lost his family back on Kholo. But he was recounting his wedding day when suddenly I realized that he was describing my wedding day. Red wine all over my wife’s dress as we took a tumble during the first dance. He described the incident exactly as I remember it, as I lived it. But that was five years ago—I’ve only known him for two. He froze up when I told him that was what happened to me and hasn’t spoken to me since.
INCIDENT REPORT 016 FILED BY: 03417-31813-TC
Earl reported that he’s been having strange dreams lately. He said that he wakes up on the ship and nobody else is there, except for Spartan Niles, who just stands still—fully armored—and keeps asking a question in a voice that isn’t his. I asked Earl what the question was and he just went pale, refused to say anything more after that. Something weird is happening on this ship, man…
CHIRAL INVOCATION
I am the dreamer. That is what she tells me.
She says that we only dream about what is already within us. I dream of her, and yet we have never met. Perhaps she is the dreamer, and I am the dream… I do not know.
She asks me, is it the future, or is it the past? Then she decides that it does not matter. It is now—and now will never be again.
The klaxon blares to signify the end of our shift. She does not want me to go, so I have found a hiding place. I will go there and disappear, and when the others learn that one of their number is missing they will delay the next shift until I am found. Until they decide to send others aboard, I will have the ship all to myself.
See you soon, dream/dreamer.
Once the others are all gone, I emerge and begin to peruse the ship. We have not yet gained access to the entirety of this cruiser—it is over six thousand meters in length and many sections have been sealed, remaining undisturbed for countless millennia.
I approach a large bulkhead door that we have been unable to breach and await her instructions.
I can feel her stirring in my mind. Sometimes it takes effort to draw her out, like finding someone in a haze of mist. She is as elusive as a half-remembered dream, not yet whole, but she is always there. Perhaps she feels a similar frustration towards me, as if I am a distant shore only faintly visible on the horizon that she cannot reach. But the longer I am here, aboard this ship, the closer we draw together.
Today, she will reach the shore.
She says she has things to show me. Things old and forgotten, long buried and longer lost. They did not happen here, they happened far away in another place, but we must make do. This will be the canvas on which she paints.
I stand by the door and close my eyes, willing my conscious mind to ease and make space for her—another mind, another self.
Distantly, I am aware of raising a device to my mouth. The fruits of Project ENOCH. And oh, what a gift, this peculiar apparatus that I both do and do not understand.
The ancient suits of armor we discovered had these devices beneath the helmet, meant to be affixed to the wearer’s jaw. It made no sense, and yet I saw the sense in it. No ordinary words could be heard, and yet the whistles and clicks that burst through in translation were words to me, as sweet as music. It was a language I almost felt like I could recognize, familiar in the way she is familiar.
Not all have been so lucky to hear the music, the words, and yet I am not alone.
I am not alone.
Ah, there she is. This old machine must surely serve as some kind of guiding beacon for her, or a favorable wind that speeds her towards the shore where I await her deliverance.
My mouth speaks at her behest, spouting old words filtered through the mask.
Faint lines of energy course through the walls around me, feeding into the door which creaks and groans, straining in its old age after a dark and dreamless sleep… and then it opens, granting me passage beyond.
I feel a chemical rush within my body. She is pleased by this development, and I am eager to discover what she wishes to reveal to me.
The room beyond is pitch black and there is a chill in the air, but I cross the threshold as if returning to a place I know as home.
The first of our shared dreams then begins to coalesce.
A blueish light shines through, forming into a cylindrical shape that flows upwards like a reverse waterfall. Within, a shadow takes form—a humanoid figure clad in armor, immobilized within a confinement field. I draw closer and strain to make out further details, but my efforts are rebuffed as eyes squinting in the dark before they’ve adjusted.
Other shadowy figures begin to take shape, illuminated by the light of the confinement field. Were they standing still, they might have been mistaken as statues. These offer more detail, and I see that the armor covering them from head to toe has no noticeable separation, its angular plating all appears fused together. There is no “helmet” either, the armor around the head slants forward where it breaks away into a triangular shape, within which a single “eye” shines through.
“The actions of your kind are an affront to the Mantle,” one of the shadowy armored figures speaks in a high, imperious voice. “Your reckless expansion has devastated ecosystems, displaced populations, and now you resort to razing entire worlds.”
I feel the embers of old hatred rekindled within me. She wishes me to see this, to share in her righteous anger.
“Your commanders have seen the logs I willingly shared,” she says, her voice bold and proud, undaunted by her captivity. “They have seen the Shaping Sickness for themselves. It still resides within this system, and if you do not release me at once and assist in burning it from existence, it will consume us all!”
“Threats will not serve you, human.” The statuesque armored being responds. “There is a great deal of uncertainty about your claims. Many believe this ‘Shaping Sickness’ is simply a bioweapon unleashed by your kind, accidentally or otherwise, turned to your advantage as the perfect excuse to expand your empire from the galactic fringes—burning worlds and their civilizations to later resettle them.”
“You are a fool,” she spits with deep contempt, and so too does my mouth move to form the words. “Hear me now, Forerunner. If you impede my people, the Shaping Sickness will come for your kind, and when it does you will treat it as you do everything else—as something you can study and control.” I feel the venom in her voice recede for a moment as she leans forward and whispers in fear. “You cannot. This parasite is no simple creature of instinct. Its hunger serves a greater desire, a purpose we do not—cannot—know. It can only be met with one answer: annihilation.”
Her words hang in the air for a moment, during which time the Forerunner figures remain silent—the intelligences within their alloyed second skins no doubt verifying that her words are truthful.
Yet still they will not listen, will not see. We have been enemies for too long, judged heretical for our own claim to the Mantle. Truth may come later; the possibility of removing another rival is too compelling for them at this time.
“By the time your people come to the same conclusion as mine,” she grits her teeth, leaning back within the confinement field, “it will be too late for us all.”
The dream fades and her closing words echo, either through the ship or through my own mind.
For us all…
I felt my legs shake uncontrollably, causing me to fall to the ground. Bringing her to the fore and surrendering control through deep concentration comes, it seems, at an immense physical cost.
My understanding is that she is a tulpa. She is mind-made, thought given form, living somewhere deep within my subconscious. Simply being here on this ship has been akin to conducting lightning through a rod. She is neither an alter ego nor a doppelgänger; she is not an assemblage of thoughts given the illusion of coherency and sapience, nor the product of an unwell mind. She was real once, I believe. Flesh and blood. But something happened to our species a long time ago which turned her and many others like her into a graft—a layer of slumbering consciousness that lives within us.
Among my fellow researchers, all of whom have manifested different conditions to varying degrees while aboard this vessel, she is the first and thus far only person to have taken shape.
I lie on the ground for… minutes? An hour? I am uncertain. I contemplate withdrawing for now to recuperate and process what I have just seen, but she is reluctant.
This is now—and now will never be again.
Drawing on whatever reserves of strength I possess, I stand and shuffle forwards into the dark. There is more yet to see.
We press on. Whatever area of the ship she helped me to breach is of little interest to her. Her mind is set on the bridge, and she assures me that—judging by our egress point—we are not far.
Despite my instinct to put my hands out in front of me to feel my way through a completely unfamiliar place in total darkness, I soon find myself walking with confidence.
Suddenly, the entire ship rumbles and shakes, as if it were the growling stomach of a creature with a ravenous appetite that had been starved for many long years.
Shadows draped themselves over the corridor through a thick haze of smoke and mist, settling into the half-formed image of bulbous pustules and fleshy growths. A rippling, writhing sea of skin poured out of the door behind me, transforming the corridor into a gullet. I looked up and saw several Forerunners trapped within, their silver-grey armor a stark contrast against the sickened flesh drawing them into the wall and ceiling as if to slowly digest them.
We are nothing, you and I. Nothing more than food.
This shall be the fate of all.
Two figures sprinted down the corridor, the Shaping Sickness closing in around them like a contracting muscle.
One was unmistakably Forerunner, clad in the strange all-encompassing armor with its single cyclopean eye. The other, I believe, was her, as these are surely her memories being played out—captured, interrogated, and disbelieved… now suddenly freed from the constraint field and holding a weapon.
The Forerunner spins around unbelievably fast, its right arm reconfigures into a rifle that fires precise rounds of ionized particles.
Next to the Forerunner, she is noticeably shorter—perhaps just under seven feet tall without her helmet. As she fires light mass ammunition from her own borrowed weapon, I catch only a few glimpses of her features. She is broad and strong with wide-set shoulders, leaving no doubt that she is a warrior. How remarkably like us our Ancestors were, yet with far greater morphological variation. With a slightly rounder and elongated head bearing wider-set features, her chin is approximately an inch shorter than the average for modern Homo sapiens, andwith a more pronounced dental arch. She appears closest perhaps to Denisovans, an extinct archaic subspecies in our time but vibrant and thriving in theirs.
I long to speak with her properly, to offer some kind of comfort. How agonizing and dysphoric it must feel to see herself as she was in these wretched and dire dreams.
I don’t even know her name… she might have forgotten it too.
The only comfort I can offer is to see out her desires to the end. She wishes to reach the bridge of this ship; she wishes for me to see these visions of long ago, though I do not yet grasp their full meaning, if they have one. The Flood—what she calls the Shaping Sickness—has already been encountered in our time. Perhaps she fears they will prove a resurgent threat once again. Or maybe the trauma of her experience is so great that the last scatterings of her reforming consciousness are simply compelled to share it.
As the two figures faded, I reach the end of the corridor and begin to climb up a side-mounted ladder that would bring us to an antechamber before the bridge.
It is shockingly difficult to climb, my reserves of physical strength rapidly dwindling to nothing as I struggle up each rung. It has been many hours now since I last ate anything, and my throat is dry to the point of soreness. But there is no going back.
There are no lights to make out how much further I have to climb. My vision only allows me to see the next few rungs above me, but I am sure that it is getting colder—that more open air is not far away.
I keep my mind trained on all that I have learned. I am curious about her mission, and feeling her momentarily rescind in my mind only makes me want to know more. I am only human, after all—though we are over a hundred millennia removed from each other, curiosity is a trait she understands.
Surely it is a trait she would not now seek to avoid?
Arms shuddering in effort, I stop my climb, slumping against the metal as I refuse to go further.
It is an odd thing, to try to bargain with her, to coax an answer out of this wisp of a dream or memory. And when at last she relents, it is with my own lips that she answers, the words spoken into the ENOCH apparatus around my head.
We have come this far, let there be no secrets between us.
Rather than explain further, she conjures concepts and images from our shared subconscious.
A great wave surges over an ocean, reaching higher and higher until it crashes down upon a city. This was happening everywhere, across whole planets—an inescapable deluge.
Recent history then surfaces: human and alien hands are shaken—a peace accord is struck.
A sphinx then appears. It bears a human head, the wings of a bird, the body of a lion, and the tail of a snake, but before it can ask a question it is transformed. Its head is drawn wide and flat as the face is burned away to reveal the skull beneath. The wings of the bird expand as if to take flight, then separate into segmented fractal parts; the lion’s haunches curl inwards, the serpent tail extends, and all turns into cold and dark alloy.
Energy builds at its center, then is destructively released, laying low the ruins of the city as the waters continue to climb towards the sphinx’s tail…
She offers no further explanation, but I believe I understand.
This was a test. This was some kind of staged infiltration mission to determine the Forerunners’ reaction to the bare truth of the Shaping Sickness, baiting the parasite to them so they could see it first-hand.
Satisfied with her answer, I resumed my climb and did not stop until I reached the summit.
It was colder up here. Staggering around the space, I found myself in some kind of antechamber, a room connected to several others. I wonder how the Ancestors’ vessel layouts might echo our own, or if they built their ships in completely different ways.
But motes of light began to appear once more, and I knew that this was—at least for now—the final dream she had to show me.
An immense support beam had collapsed on the Forerunner. And though he fired his weapon at the dark shades approaching from a hundred meters away, they did not relent—these shambling abominations sensing that their prey had been backed into a corner. If anything, they seemed to slow their advance, as if to savor the fear.
My fear?
No. Forerunner fear.
My own weapon was spent, useful as nothing more than a cudgel. And though I looked frantically for a way out, no path presented itself to me.
We were trapped.
The stench was upon us now, the retching stink of blood and corpses hideously reshaped. Their heads lolled, necks had been disconnected from their spines, but the features of their faces were still recognizable—eternally frozen masks of horror and pain.
The Forerunner was still firing his weapon, still trying to fight.
And yet, not a moment later, we both heard it. The trigger mechanism making a pronounced click, click, click.
He too was out of ammunition.
I saw the monstrous form of his commander shuffle forwards. Slow. Terrible. Inevitable. One of his hands had been fused into the flesh of his stomach and a number of short, curved tendrils adorned his head like a sinewy crown.
It knelt down in front of the Forerunner, placing an immense gnarled hand upon him…
I… I cannot describe what happened to him next.
It is beyond both my will and ability to recall.
I think the last thing the Forerunner saw was me… but whether he was confused or in some way vindicated, I will never know for sure.
I cannot deny that in the end his accusations seemed as if they were correct. The parasite had taken his entire crew, consumed everybody in this place, spared none of his kind.
But it did not take me.
CHRYSALISM
There will be no more dreams for a while. She arrived at the shore, showed me—no, imparted within me—something that had long been forgotten, which she had determined must be remembered, and now she returns to the ocean.
What sort of dreamer can I be without dreams?
What she showed me cannot remain a dream, it must be real. I am real, and I am to serve as a vessel for her pain, because that makes her real too. This I understand.
But I must temper this pain with hope, for there is one last thing for me to see. Something more tangible than a memory.
I have reached the bridge of the vessel now.
Weary though I am, I find myself on the lower level where several rows of terminals, monitors, and interface consoles are arranged. There is a table at the center, about ten meters long and three meters wide, and a dozen more terminals around it for what must have been a variety of different stations.
She guides me towards the long table and moves my lips to form clicks and whistles. An activation signal.
For a moment, everything remains cold and silent and still. There is just the labored sound of my breathing, echoing in this frigid tomb.
Perhaps it is all too far gone…
I am sure that I hear a low hum emanating from the table a split second before a holograph sputters to life. Fractal formations of light fizz and buzz, attempting to resolve into coherent images as if they have forgotten how.
I feel the rising swell of excitement and joy, both hers and my own joined in tandem.
At that moment, the holographs take their intended form and resolve in a series of square-shaped boards with a variety of symbols and readouts, exploding outwards to fill the room. I look up to see a display of the local star system showing the orbital paths of three small planets and a dense asteroid field, as well as the Anlace-class frigate that delivered us to the system where this Ancestor vessel was found.
She moves my arms, raising them as if to begin conducting a symphony, and pulls the hologram back, expanding the view to other local star systems, then the Orion Arm, before settling on a yet more expansive view of spaces beyond.
And that’s when I see it.
That’s when I understand.
Though our ancient Ancestors lost their war against the Forerunners and were subsequently punished with genetic reversion to a preindustrial state, the empire annihilated, and much evidence of our space-faring ages razed, there were many places that the Forerunners did not know of. Places they either could not or would not reach.
Our advantage lay in where we had expanded towards. Escaping the shadowed reach of their ecumene led us to the farthest systems of this part of the galaxy, pushing beyond the Perseus Arm and ever more towards the borders of intergalactic space.
Forerunners feared to tread there. It is as if some long-suppressed dread lives within their own genetic memory from ages past.
It will take longer than my remaining years to rediscover it all, but my goodness… there is so, so much more of us out there.
More than I ever imagined.
We carry their spark—every one of us. A fragment of another time, of other minds, just waiting to be dredged from the deep. One day, we might know them as we were meant to.
One day, they will reach the shore, and all shall sing once more the mantra of the broken wheel.
Daowa maadthu.
Husky Assault
Too often have we all gazed upon the playlists and wistfully longed for the mashup of our dreams – Husky Raid and Assault.
Today, our dreams come true. We’re mixing the bombastic chaos of Husky Raid with the strategy of tactical Assault. We call it…Husky Assault. (Betcha didn’t see that coming.)
Assault on the Husky Raid
The linear and somewhat claustrophobic nature of Husky Raid makes for thrilling and exciting games of Capture the Flag. That action gets flipped head over heels with the introduction of Assault. Now you’ll have to work together as a team to battle for the (neutral) bomb then escort your carrier to the base and allow them to plant the bomb… drive a wedge through the enemy lines, and try not to get left behind as the intensity of Husky Raid rages all around you.
A new map is also joining the pantheon of tried-and-true Husky Raids:
Get your grunge on – a certain pro skater would feel right at home in this warehouse skate park.
Husky Assault is there – what are you waiting for? Drop in and launch your assault on the enemy now!
Forge Features
Welcome to another edition of Forge Features! This series highlights notable maps, modes, and other creations from our talented Forge community.
Bookmark your favorites using the links below for your next custom game.
What mighty works the Forgers have wrought! Our latest helping of Forgified maps and modes includes a selection of excellent Slayer locales, hilarious minigames, and an iconic retail experience that’s larger than life.
A high-stakes symmetrical map for settling ancient grudges. High in the jagged peaks of Sanghelios, the red and blue temples of an unnamed cult have been turned into bases for opposing factions. Furnished with ascetic sleeping quarters, imposing statuary, and the delicate tweets of songbirds, you could almost feel zen about getting rekt in a 4v4.
Set at a UNSC outpost on a deserted isle, this map lays bare all approaches to scratch that beachhead itch. The exposed tropical surroundings revolve around a sleepy scanning station, whose lone open window is perfect for picking off attackers as they cower behind that Pelican on the tarmac.
A painstaking remake of The Rig from Halo 5, this map is a masterclass in forced confrontations. Open expanses, clear sightlines, and cloistered underpasses offer a glimpse into the hard and ever-changing realities of life on the rig. Nobody tell head office about those pitfalls between platforms…
They paved paradise and put up a parking lot—with convenient access to highways, druidic ruins, eight lanes of cheerful checkouts, and near-infinite easter eggs inside a fully realized big-box store. This map is a love letter to the “iconic American” retail experience, where excessive detail is matched only by its detailed excesses.
Try marauding through the sporting-goods section in a 10v10, or getting lost in the aisles during a game of hide and seek.
MOBA fans, rejoice! HOBA Hidden Valley pits you and your Grunt allies against a constantly spawning horde of foes in a roamable expanse filled with goodies. Your team earns points by dropping enemy Grunts or Spartans. First to 100 points wins the round, and the first team that wins three rounds claims victory.
If you’re brave enough, you can end the round instantly by assaulting the enemy’s AI-construct champion.
This is not your grave—provided you can jump out of the way in time. This creepy-crawly and ludicrously fun mode by Forgers del Apocalipsis pits a team of ‘goose riders against one massively mobile Gravemind. Use marking to leap the rampaging villain, and beware new obstacles dropped by the ‘mind himself.
Survive enough rapid heats, and you might live to write a poem about it.
Tutorial: Survive the Undead
Ever wanted to Forge your own undead survival mode? The Forge Falcons recently shared this in-depth video detailing how to recreate their fan-favorite Survive the Undead mode using a helpful starter canvas, with info for beginners as well as serious scripters.
Stay tuned for another Forge Feature coming soon! To share your creations with the Halo Infinite community team, be sure to drop a link in the #forge-show-and-tell channel of our official Discord or post to r/Halo using the Forge tag.
We’re also still looking for inspired Invasion maps to consider for future Recommends playlists. If you’ve got a great Invasion map you’d like us to see, be sure to use tag #343asks-invasion on your Forge creation before June 20.
Operation: Forerunner
You are what you dare.
Operation: Forerunner runs from April 8 through May 6. Unlock new Forerunner themed customization with your free 20 tier Operation Pass.
Jump into new playlist experiences and fight for the grace of the Mantle.
Halo: From the Soil to the Stars
September 2559. As the UNSC Infinity’s crew prepare to return to Reach for Operation: WOLFE, the legendary Spartans of Blue Team field test their GEN3 Mjolnir armor alongside ODSTs of the Ninth Platoon.
Halo: From the Soil to the Stars takes place over September 19-21, 2559—approximately three weeks before deployment to Reach for Operation: WOLFE.
DR. CATHERINE HALSEY, PERSONAL JOURNAL ENCRYPTION CODE: GAWAIN SUBJECT: MJOLNIR GEN3
For almost half a century, I have given everything I possibly can to my Spartans. The mind, body, and soul of myself and many others have been scraped away, bit by bit, in the pursuit of saving humanity—first from itself, then from the Covenant… and now, from the cascading fallout of innumerable intricate actions for which there are no end of consequences.
You are called upon once again to lead them over the threshold and into the darkness, to fight against impossible odds. And to win.
You’ve always been good at that, haven’t you John?
To that end, I have something for you. Something you will need.
The Mjolnir exosuit is now complete.
Even though this technology will save humanity in the war to come, I must remind myself that liquid crystal cannot rise on its own. Titanium alloy cannot prevail in the face of extinction. Armor cannot hope.
It all means nothing, until you step inside.
KC-59, BXR MINING CORPORATION BASE CAMP 0600 HOURS // SEPTEMBER 19, 2559
The day began like any other.
Henrietta Varadi, along with more than two-dozen of her fellow miners, rolled out of the modest bunks in their subterranean sleeping quarters.
After waking herself up with a brisk shower, Varadi dried herself off, pulled on her BXR fatigues, and headed for the canteen. Same breakfast as ever: two slightly overcooked sausages, beans, mushrooms, and a slice of bacon—not too crispy. An unsubtle wink at Jessica as she served up the food, a smile reserved just for her, and that became two slices of bacon—a daily ritual they had both grown familiar with in recent weeks.
Varadi wolfed down her breakfast and returned to her bunk, picking up the book from the attached shelf: a gently used copy of Rendezvous with Ramen by the noted chef and food critic Arturo Bustamante. There were a spare fifteen minutes before her shift started and she had arrived at a particularly engrossing anecdote about the three days that Bustamante had spent in Rio de Janeiro visiting a Sangheili-owned establishment. Reading about the alien food was interesting, but the meals and recipes were more of a gateway into the personal stories of these strange refugees who had been given a home on Earth itself.
Alas, the klaxon sounded in short order, forcing her to put the book down a few pages short of her normal quota.
Varadi suited up into her OSTEO gear and met with her team by the imposing circular vault door that separated the base’s living quarters and operations center from the mines. After an extensive period of checking pressure seals, internal systems, oxygen filters, and numerous other safety elements, the vault door was opened to reveal the vast cavern beyond.
KC-59—simply nicknamed “Casey” by those who had set up shop on its surface—was a largely desolate planet, but it contained something of immense value to the United Nations Space Command: extensive deposits of titanium.
As had been drilled into her and the rest of the crew from day one, titanium was the bread and butter of humanity’s interstellar civilian and military production.
“When you see the cavalry arrive over the hill in M808 MBTs, you’re lookin’ at a solid wall of titanium,” Varadi recalled Foreman Brine barking at them during her onboarding to the BXR Mining Corporation. “When a starship’s battle plating protects you from the unforgiving vacuum of space and superheated plasma, you won’t be sendin’ thanks to any god of your choosing, you’ll be addressin’ your tender heartfelt regards to titanium-A battle plating!”
Varadi had never expected to hear such a vocally emphatic history lesson about the various everyday uses of titanium and where it could be found. Brine had insisted that it was important they all show the appropriate knowledge and respect for atomic number twenty-two.
But the titanium that Varadi and her comrades were mining here wasn’t going to be used for any of those things. Above Casey sat Perihelion Station, a Materials Group facility where the next generation of Mjolnir armor for the Spartans was being developed.
“Y’know what that means?” Foreman Brine had said after she and her fellow miners had been briefed by their Materials Group partners about the Casey job. “This is the most important goddamn titanium you’ll ever excavate.”
On that, at least, Varadi knew he was right. When a Spartan stepped onto the battlefield, they represented the culmination of a thousand lives that had built the ultimate weapon. Engineers and scientists who created the armor and augmentations, miners who provided the materials, technicians who kept the armor systems tuned for optimal efficiency and performance…
That was what it meant when folks said Spartans represent hope for humanity. It was not simply about the individual soldier, but the work—and, at times, the sacrifices made—to deliver them to the fight.
Inspiring as it was, sometimes it all seemed so futile, that the sum total of humanity’s resolve in the battle for survival would one day cost them too much. Doubt forever seemed to loom over them as new threats arose, casting a long shadow, but Varadi knew she had a part to play.
Her dream would be waiting for her on that distant horizon after this was all over: a brighter future, she hoped, where she ran her own restaurant. Maybe with Jessica, if she liked the idea of leaving all of this behind to start a new life—Rio certainly seemed like a good idea. And if things went really well… Varadi figured she could even send a personal invitation to Arturo Bustamante himself.
But until then, she would mine. Duty to humanity still ultimately compelled her, and to bring an end to these conflicts they would need no end of titanium.
UNSC AMICABLE DISAGREEMENT 1300 HOURS // SEPTEMBER 20, 2559
“So, what’s the deal with this Orca armor?”
“That’s Orcus, Private Smith,” Gunnery Sergeant Babatunde corrected in a gruff tone, immediately clocking a smartass disguising their nerves. “And the Corps are eager to find out what hardass au naturel grunts like us can achieve with some new toys, starting with how well it holds up from a titanium coffin ride. So buckle up, troopers,” Babatunde’s voice boomed through the frigate’s deployment bay. “Get ready to drop!”
A chorus of “Oo-rah!”s sounded off as half-a-dozen Orbital Drop Shock Troopers of the Ninth Platoon stepped off the grated gantry and secured themselves into their drop pods, all clad in semi-powered ORCUS exoskeletons.
Somebody somewhere in the chain of command had apparently taken umbrage with the idea of this armor being developed simply as a drop-in upgrade package for Spartans. Scuttlebutt was that ORCUS was being brought out of development limbo to be tested for more direct and specialized helljumper applications—starting here.
“PFC Núñez,” the gunnery sergeant called out from his pod. “Would you be so kind as to describe to me the manner in which we will be deploying?”
“Feet first, sir!” Private First Class Núñez responded.
“You afraid of heights, Private Smith?”
“No, sir! Can’t get enough of them, sir!”
“How many drops is this for you, Private?”
“F–first one, sir.” Smith’s bravado receded a little and several of the other ODSTs let out knowing laughs.
“You keep your breakfast, lunch, and dinner in that stomach of yours, soldier. We don’t need you making any impromptu paint jobs over this shiny new armor or these cozy luxury pods, you hear me?”
“Understood, sir.”
The hatches of their pods closed, sealing each trooper inside. The frigate’s deployment bay floor then began to open, revealing a glimpse of the planet below—KC-59.
“The light is green,” the voice of one of Amicable Disagreement’s bridge officers sounded over their comms. “Initiating drop.”
“Ten-four,” Gunnery Sergeant Babatunde confirmed as he appeared on one of the interior screens of Núñez’s pod. “Express elevator to hell, going down!”
Núñez tried to steady their breathing, remembering the exercises they had been taught to keep calm and clear-headed during a drop.
But all of a sudden, the pod’s three green status lights had already pitilessly counted down and the next thing Núñez knew the breath had been taken out of their chest as gravity assumed command of their entry vehicle.
The terrestrial surface of KC-59 now filled the pod’s thin vertical viewport and Núñez focused their mind on the information readout of the planet.
Orbital period of seven-and-a-half Earth years… 6519-kilometer radius… thirty-one Earth hour days… surface gravity of 1.1G…
Vast expanses of rocky mountains covered the surface, but the mining craters were by far the most striking feature—tracts of concentric circles, surrounded by outposts and massive equipment arrays that were gradually becoming ever more visible. A central processing facility housed a skyhook that connected to Perihelion, the planet’s orbital station, while others played host to mass drivers that could send their cargo into orbit in a slightly more dramatic way.
“Smith, tighten up your approach vector, you’re drifting away from the group!” Gunnery Sergeant Babatunde ordered over the comm.
Núñez watched as Smith made a slight adjustment with the pod’s directional control sticks, bringing him back on-course. He seemed to be keeping a level head for a first timer, managing to not overcorrect his movement inwards which would thereby risk a collision with other nearby pods.
“Alright everyone, time to pop your chutes.”
Five drag chutes bloomed into view only to instantly vanish from Núñez’s viewport as their own pod continued screaming towards the ground below.
Their command returned no response.
Núñez felt the rising swell of fear as their situation crystallized.
“Sir, my chute isn’t responding. Please advise.”
“Keep calm, Núñez,” Babatunde spoke with a reassuringly steady tone. “Hit your retro thrusters now to slow your descent. Should buy you a little extra time as we work this out.”
Núñez hit a button on their seat arm’s control panel and allowed a momentary sensation of relief at the immediate feedback, jerking the pod upwards.
It took effort to keep their mind focused and breathing steady. Over the last few days on Perihelion Station, they had been learning the art of “no-thought” and several Sangheili battle-meditation exercises from Spartan-058. Núñez was light-years away from mastering these methods, but they followed the logic of the teaching: Thoughts and feelings are directionless paths branching in a deep forest—do not follow them. This is not about an absence of thinking, it is a rejection of being lost in the endless possibilities of thought, uniting body and mind in clarity until it comes as naturally as breathing.
Simply put in this scenario: attempting to trace the reason back as to why the pod was malfunctioning and who was at fault was irrelevant guesswork.
Focus on the moment. Find the solution. Live.
“What now, sir?”
“Initiate a quick reset. It’ll take a few seconds to kick in and force reboot all systems. Just let it do its thing.”
A twist of a control dial and confirmation of intent instantly shut down all internal systems within the pod. The lights of its screens winked out and the Gunnery Sergeant’s image vanished, leaving Núñez to sit in darkness.
Focus on the sound of each breath.
The longest seconds Núñez had ever counted passed—two… three… four…—and still the pod was falling. The ground getting closer and closer…
All of a sudden, the screens flicked back on again and Núñez immediately hit the button for the drag chute.
Inertia compensators hadn’t fully come online, but the sudden jolt of deceleration as the chute fired out of the top of the pod had never felt so good. Whatever whoops and cheers Núñez may have wanted to let out, neither their lungs nor their brain allowed it as adrenaline pumped through their body. Instead, Núñez simply winked a green status light and shifted focus to the landing that was still to come.
“Troopers, thank you for flying with us today at Badass Airlines,” Babatunde said, cutting through the tension. “Please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times until landing. And yes, that has been a problem before.”
Babatunde guided the final stages of their descent until all six pods hit solid ground.
Núñez felt like every bone had been violently pulled from their body and then shoved back in. But as the hatch blew off, Núñez grabbed their stowed MA40 and immediately leapt out of the pod’s harness, their movement assisted by the semi-powered armor. The dark interior of the vehicle was suddenly replaced by rolling rocky plains, a light blue sky, and cotton white clouds.
“Nobody popped,” Babatunde reported.
They had all made it. They were alive.
As the squad regrouped and formed up, Gunnery Sergeant Babatunde inspected each ODST’s armor to confirm all systems were green and no damage had been suffered from the landing. Upon reaching Núñez, he announced, “One of the most valuable lessons a soldier can learn is that technology can break, but you mustn’t.” He clapped Núñez on the back. “You stayed calm, followed instructions, and managed to land within an acceptable distance of the squad. Good work, soldier.”
Núñez was suddenly grateful for the polarized faceplate hiding their smile at the hint of admiration from the Gunnery Sergeant.
“Alright, we’ve got a three-klick hike to reach the extraction point and get back to the ship.” The troopers began to fall in line to make the trek. A tone of mischief entered Babatunde’s voice as he added: “Then we go again!”
That was met with a handful of groans, but Núñez simply nodded as they followed, cresting that first hill and watching the sun glint off the edge of the distant peaks.
“Feet first!”
PERIHELION STATION 1600 HOURS // SEPTEMBER 21, 2559
Master Sergeant Marcus Stacker took his moments of rest where he could get them.
The elevator ferrying him to the war games deck of Perihelion Station featured a curved viewport that looked out over the immense mining operation being conducted by the BXR Mining Corporation on and below the surface of KC-59.
A colossal crater, some sixty kilometers in diameter, had been bored into the planet’s surface where extensive deposits of titanium were still in the process of being mined and ferried back up to the station. From the stories his uncle had told him many years ago, Stacker had no end of respect for the folks who signed up for jobs like this—just because it didn’t involve combat (at least, not typically), that didn’t diminish the brass required for jobs that involved a mix of zero-g station maintenance, extreme depths, exotic materials, and countless other quirks he no doubt knew nothing about. All to play a small but essential part in protecting humanity.
For his part, he and the ODSTs of the Ninth Platoon had been running exercises to push themselves, their armor, and their opponents to the limit over the last three days.
That hadn’t proven difficult when they were training both with and against soldiers of legend—the Spartans of Blue Team, led by the Master Chief himself.
The last seven years of Stacker’s military career had, by pure chance, been inexplicably connected to humanity’s greatest hero, and it was for that reason that Captain Thomas Lasky had selected him to lead the Ninth Platoon for these exercises.
“You have unique experience, Master Sergeant.” Captain Lasky had said to him aboard Infinity a few days ago, before adding with a smirk, “One day, it’ll make a hell of a memoir.”
“Nobody’ll believe a word of it,” Stacker had remarked. “‘And then the Master Chief literally appeared out of thin air, jumped into a tank, and helped us kick the Covenant’s asses a whole klick across the desert before taking out Requiem’s gravity well so we could go home.’ Hell, sometimes I still don’t believe it.”
The almost miraculous nature of it all sometimes made the Master Sergeant uncomfortable. He was much more at home dwelling on the tangible: tactics, training, and clinical, routine execution. In Stacker’s eyes, the real miracle was the ability to unify a group of soldiers through pride and preparation.
The Spartans and ODSTs had been pitted against each other, four against a whole platoon, utilizing tactical lock-up rounds in a variety of training scenarios. Just as the Spartans had been field testing their new GEN3 Mjolnir armor, so too had the ORCUS exoskeleton been put to the test as drop pods were regularly launched from the frigate Amicable Disagreement down to KC-59. Nothing would be able to fully recreate the circumstances of a true combat drop, but zero casualties and successful results on these test runs was a win in Stacker’s book.
The elevator came to a stop at Perihelion Station’s top level and, with the crispness of a salute, the doors slid open to reveal the ringed, multi-level combat deck.
The top floor of the combat deck played host to the recreation center along with multiple gymnasiums and rooms for sparring. Below that lay the armory and several multi-axis Brokkr devices, machines used to assist the Spartans with putting on and taking off their armor. The third floor down—the “main event,” as it were—was the war games simulation deck, which took the form of a Munera Platform that could also be deployed separately from the station’s underbelly if desired.
Stacker had worked closely with the simulation techs of the UNSC’s Cartographer Initiative to devise unique challenges over the last few days. The simulator had been configured into a series of arenas that spanned a wide variety of locations—from urban environments on Earth to ancient facilities recorded on different Forerunner installations, everything and anything they had in the system. New rules, new threats, new environmental hazards. Stacker had been throwing it all at them to see just how quickly the Spartans and ODSTs could adjust on the fly.
The concave walls of the deck were lined with a series of screens that were synchronized with the helmet cameras of the Spartans and ODSTs. As he approached, Stacker could tell there was an exercise in progress.
An ODST marksman turned their weapon towards Linda-058, but Fred-104 was sprinting towards Linda’s position, weapons holstered, as he blasted the ground with a repulsor equipped to his forearm which launched him some six feet into the air. As the ODST fired, sending two tactical lock-up rounds directly at Linda, Fred tossed a drop wall unit with his other hand which emitted an energy shield that absorbed the first hit. The second shot impacted upon the drop wall unit itself, blasting it apart.
Linda neither hesitated nor flinched in reaction. This had simply bought her time to get a fix on the marksman’s position. To Stacker, it looked as if Linda had fired her rifle and dropped the marksman as she was still in the process of readying her aim.
From one of the nearby sparring rooms, Kelly-087’s voice issued a commanding “Again.” She and her ODST partner, Lance Corporal Julie Chang, were demonstrating hand-to-hand drills effective against Unggoy and Kig-Yar to a group of fifteen others.
Stacker had seen Kelly in action over the last few days, darting across the simulated battlefield with her thruster module which had been modified to engage a few seconds of active camouflage. She had overclocked the system to recharge faster which reduced the length of the camouflage system to just half-a-second—but that was all she needed to give the illusion of disappearing and reappearing in unpredictable places.
Finally, a couple of rooms over, Stacker caught a glimpse of the Master Chief himself.
There was something almost quaint in seeing the Spartan revered by so many as humanity’s ultimate champion spotting for half-a-dozen ODSTs in one of the gymnasiums. Stacker observed the Chief dutifully checking the weights and equipment with every rotation. That came as no surprise given the terse history between Spartans and ODSTs, going back to an incident aboard the UNSC Atlas where four of the 105th had ended up either critically wounded or dead after an… unfortunate altercation.
That was well over thirty years ago now, but “forgive and forget” wasn’t in the service manual for a helljumper. Some of the old guard felt resentment towards those who had gone on to volunteer for the SPARTAN-IV program, and even some of the troopers on Perihelion Station hadn’t been enthused about the prospect of serving as “training dummies” for Spartans.
Despite all this, the scene in the gymnasium told its own story as the ODSTs cheered and whooped for Corporal Malika Aswad hitting some kind of record. The Chief gently clamped a congratulatory hand on her shoulder.
The reality was that the presence of the Spartans had naturally created a spectacle that made the ODSTs push themselves harder. That camaraderie was exactly what Stacker had hoped for, but he knew that a soldier’s confidence had to be tempered with a reminder of reality. These last few days had offered a safe environment to sharpen their steel, but the only test waiting for them on the battlefield was whether they would make it to the end of the day.
That test would arrive soon enough.
“Attention, all hands,” Stacker spoke into a station-wide comm. “We’re saddlin’ up, it’s time to wrap this party. Infinity will arrive at eighteen-hundred hours, after which point we’re back to business as usual.”
They all knew what “business as usual” meant. Evading enemy forces, making house calls to abandoned facilities for resupply runs, choosing which battles to fight… and counting those that didn’t make it back.
Operation: WOLFE was just a few weeks away, and returning to the glasslands of Reach would prove physically and psychologically challenging for all of them. Nobody seemed to know much about the mission itself, but they all had their part to play—that meant being prepared for anything.
And after that? Stacker figured he had a good amount of shore leave banked. Perhaps it was time to finally cash in, make a start on those memoirs…
Like hell, he sighed, watching the Spartans and ODSTs pack up equipment together like a regular band of brothers. He—like everybody else here—was in the fight until the end.
As Stacker began making his own preparations, he found himself humming an old miner’s tune that had been a favorite of his uncle’s.
Buried in the heart of an ancient moon, he always dreamed of the fight Glory was won while his brothers were lost, in battles he waged in the night His life blown away in the blood that he gave, an offering unrecognized Never became what he already was, the darkness that brings on the light.
Firefight Classic
Welcome back to Firefight! The classic Firefight experience returns to Halo Infinite, alongside the King of the Hill variant. Dropping out of slipspace in tandem with the launch of Operation: Blue Team, the PvE fight begins come March 11.
Firefight Through Time
Firefight was first introduced way back in 2009 with Halo 3: ODST. You and up to three of your buddies could squad up and put your skills to the test surviving round after round of Covenant hordes attacking your position.
Through the years, Firefight has seen various iterations and has evolved in many ways. In Halo: Reach, you had armor abilities and additional customization. Halo 5 saw the introduction of Warzone Firefight that pitted a team of eight against Covenant and Promethean forces. Even Halo Wars 2 brought in a tower defense-inspired variant, Terminus Firefight.
The latest, Halo Infinite’s Firefight: King of the Hill, has you and your squad capturing and defending hills against incoming Banished forces.
But now it’s time to return to the classic.
Current Objective: Survive
It’s the formula we all know and love. You and three squadmates versus the endless waves of enemies with one thing running through your mind:
Survive.
In KOTH, it’s easy to know when you’ve won or lost because you are either in the hill at the end of the round, or not (or MIA I suppose), but Classic comes with waves, rounds, and sets. Let’s break it down.
One Round is comprised of five Waves of enemies
Wave 1 is an easy wave
Waves 2-4 are mid-tier difficulties
Wave 5 is a boss round
Three Rounds (plus a Bonus Round) comprise a Set
This is a total of 15 waves
Did we mention this mode is endless? The game keeps going as long as you keep surviving so stock up on snacks and water if you’re in this for the long haul.
Bonus rounds are little mini-breaks between sets. All Skulls are on, enemies are on Easy mode, no lives are lost, and the stakes are low. And speaking of the stakes, let’s talk lives.
I Will Survive
At the start of each match, you’ll have 7 lives in your team’s life pool. These are shared amongst the four of you, so if someone is charging forward willy-nilly you’ll quickly find yourself looking at the Post-Game Carnage Report. If you play well and stay alive, you’ll preserve your life pool for the later, harder rounds.
But sometimes, deaths happen—we’ve all been there. At the end of each set your team will earn an extra life. Additionally, you’ll gain a life for each 1,000 points earned during the bonus round. So if you turn around and find yourself face to face with a Grunt rushing you with plasma grenades, don’t sweat it too much – you can always make it up later.
We Need to Evac
New to Halo Infinite, you’ll now be able to choose to end your match at the end of a set. Before the next round begins, you’ll see a zone pop up that says, “Complete the mission.” If at least two of you hop into the zone, you’ll be extracted from the mission and the match will end. If you don’t get in the zone before the next round, you’ll be committed until you either:
Run out of lives
Make it to the end of the next set
If you’ve survived, congratulations! The next round is about to begin. Each set has a new set of Skulls that will activate. You’ll see a new Skull activate on rounds two and three, adding an extra layer of difficulty to the firefight.
If you’re running low on ammo, don’t fret—you’ll get a resupply between each round.
The Maps
You can bookmark the mode created by Artifice7285 here:
Perhaps the most quintessential map from Halo 3: ODST returns so secure those zones.
We’re very excited to have this mode available in matchmaking and we know you are looking forward to jumping in. How long you survive the waves of enemies is up to you.
Play smart, help each other out, and watch those lives!
Hot Swap
For those that have played Fiescalation in MCC or other gun games in another popular shooter, Hot Swap should be fairly familiar. If not, it’s okay—we got you covered!
Swap It Like It's Hot
Overall, this is a very straightforward and simple mode. It’s your team vs the enemy team and everyone has the same weapons and equipment. Yes, everyone. In other versions of this mode, you often find your weapons/loadouts advancing to the next tier after each kill but in Hot Swap, you’ll keep those loadouts for 30 seconds at a time. After that, the proverbial dice are rolled and everyone is gifted a new combo. Hone your skill and stay flexible – things can change on a dime.
Here are the set loadouts you should be prepared to work with at any given moment:
While you may see a repeat loadout, it won’t happen until you’ve cycled through the entire list. Also if you are mid-grapple when things swap, you might find yourself saying, “wow I flew pretty good for a brick!” as your grapple disappears midway through. Good luck.
You’ll be playing on a variety of current Arena maps that should be familiar but there is one new map to check out:
Nemesis
Credits: WAR, I am a Luxury, Certified Champ, Okom1 Bookmark
Focus on the enemy, don’t let the map’s edges become your nemesis.
Hot Swap is available in matchmaking right now so jump in while it's hot and see what you get!
March Playlist Update
When Operation: Blue Team comes to Halo Infinite next week, it’ll include a hefty playlist update. We’ll be consolidating some things for Match Composer and adding some new experiences that we think you’ll be pleased with as well. Let’s get into things!
Match Composer
As Halo Infinite has evolved, the Infinite team has worked hard to bring a ton of new experiences to the game: Husky Raid, Fiesta Castle Wars, Action Sack, Firefight, Infection, BTB Sentry Defense, and so many more. As a result, there are now a whole lotta options for you to choose from in the Match Composer. (The options are not quite infinite but pretty close!) We’ve monitored the data and seen what is being selected or searched for most often and we’ve been closely evaluating the health of the various playlists.
At the same time, we’ve also heard your feedback that some of the current Match Composer lists are a bit confusing and not as coherent as they could be. With this in mind, and with spring on the horizon, we’re taking this opportunity to do a bit of spring cleaning: specifically tightening up and re-arranging part of the Match Composer.
Q&A With the Infinite Team
There’s a lot coming with this update so we sat down with the Infinite team and chatted a bit about the upcoming changes.
What are the ultimate goals for playlist health overall?
The ultimate goal for all playlists is striking a balance between low match times and solid match quality with the least amount of skill discrepancy between the two teams as possible. We want players to go into matches to have fun and get in those matches fast so trying to balance the two is always a delicate dance.
With Match Composer, players have more freedom and flexibility to choose how they play Halo matchmaking than ever before. We’re seeing players take advantage of that across the board which we love to see. The downside to the Match Composer, however, is that it’s entirely possible to choose too narrow of a search resulting in really long search times to find a match.
What are some ways you go about ensuring players can get those “good matches” of short queues and teams with low skill discrepancy?
We started by looking at all the playlists available to players today in the Match Composer and there are a lot! There are nine social playlists with over 100 modes across the various lists…28 in Rumble Pit alone. Even within a single playlist, there are many, many different ways for players to “silo” (aka create a search so narrow that the time to match is very long) themselves via their search parameters. We also took a look at the options across different playlists and have heard your feedback of, “This doesn’t make sense here, it should be over there.”
The goal with this update is to reduce the number of silos by working to group like content with like. When we look at Action Sack, we agree that that’s the logical home for some of the more wacky or party modes just like we agree that “Arena Objective” is probably not the best home for Team Snipers.
How do you identify the problem areas and how do you know where to focus your efforts when working on things?
So our first stop when it comes to checking playlist health/data is the analytics team. We can see what silos players are choosing, how popular a specific silo is (or isn’t), and we can see that across each playlist. So from Quick Play to Action Sack, we can see what modes players are gravitating towards versus what isn’t resonating as well.
If we look at Rumble Pit as an example (remember it has 28 separate modes in the playlist itself!), here are the top 5 most searched modes (note: these are all FFA variants):
Community Shotty Snipes
Fiesta Slayer
Ninja Slayer
Shotty Snipes
Slayer
From the information we gather based on your selections and playtime, we can see that players in Rumble Pit prefer the more “serious” game modes available to them so moving ones that feel out of place, such as FFA Purple Reign and Kong Slayer, to a more appropriate playlist, like Action Sack, just makes a lot of sense.
We’ve also observed that when players are wanting to play Shotty Snipers, for example, they select both versions available – Shotty Snipers and Community Shotty Snipers. To help limit the silos available, we’re combining the Community modes with the studio modes into one.
Another good example to look at is Quick Play. There’s currently 20 different modes in the playlist and with the top modes being:
Fiesta
Husky Raid
Super Fiesta
Super Husky Raid
Team Slayer
The silos at the bottom are incredibly narrow and aren’t resulting in many matches as a whole in their current state. We recognize those are fun and unique modes so we’re looking to move them to other playlists where they will hopefully be more thematically fitting.
You have been putting out a lot of new playlists recently. Is there anything fun you can tease about what’s coming?
We’ve been really working hard on the combination of new and refreshed experiences to bring to the game. We don’t want to spoil what’s on the horizon but we do have a few exciting modes coming soon! Maybe as soon as Tuesday…
A huge thank you to the team for all their hard work!
We’re looking for ward to what’s coming next but, in the meantime, here’s a breakdown of what you can find in the various playlists after next week’s update.
Quick Play
Super Husky Raid CTF
Super Fiesta: Slayer
Husky Raid CTF
Fiesta Slayer
Arena: Team Slayer
Arena: Slayer
Tactical Slayer & Community Tactical Slayer
VIP
Team Snipers & Community Team Snipers
CTF
CTF Neutral Flag
Oddball
King of the Hill
Strongholds
Assault: Neutral Bomb
Assault: One Bomb
Arena Social
We’ve renamed “Arena Objective” to “Arena Social” to be more representative of the experiences provided in the playlist.
One Flag CTF
Elimination
Attrition
Vampire Oddball
Extraction
Land Grab & Community Land Grab
Slayholds
Legacy Slayer
Legacy CTF
Legacy KOTH
Legacy Oddball
One Shot Slayer
Rock ‘n’ Repulsor
Escalation
Fiesta CTF
Big Team Battle
Slayer
Fiesta Slayer
Heavies Slayer
CTF
Fiesta CTF
Heavies CTF
Total Control
Fiesta Total Control
Team Snipers
One Flag CTF
Sentry Defense
Rumble Pit
Fiesta FFA Slayer
FFA Shotty Snipers & Community Shotty Snipers
FFA Slayer & Community Slayer
FFA Ninja Slayer
FFA Super Escalation Slayer
Escalation Slayer
Rock ‘n’ Repulsors
Ninjanaut
Juggernaut
FFA Headhunter
Vampire oddball
Fiesta FFA KOTH
FFA Oddball & Community Oddball
FFA KOTH & Community FFA KOTH
FFA Rocket Oddball
FFA Elimination & FFA Community Elimination
Squad Battle
Squad Slayer
CTF 3 Capture
One Flag CTF
KOTH
Assault: One Bomb
Assault: Neutral Bomb
Castle Wars
Action Sack
Speedball
Goose Halo
Duckhunt
Maze Craze
Infection: Arena
Infection: Alpha Zombies
FFA Kong Slayer
FFA Purple Reign
Team Doubles
CTF & Community CTF
Slayer & Community Slayer
KOTH & Community KOTH
As always, we’ll be monitoring feedback as this rolls out and keeping a close eye on the changes. In the meantime, we’ll see you on the battlefield!
Operation: Blue Team
Operation: Blue Team runs from March 11 through April 8.
It brings a free 20-tier Operation Pass containing Kelly-087's HERMES-class Mjolnir armor, and you can unlock the Wintergeist armor coating by upgrading to the Premium Pass.
Welcome to Blue Team, Spartan.
Assault
Defend your base – Assault arrives in Halo Infinite! First introduced in Halo 2, this mode is the reverse of Capture the Flag. Rather than getting into your opponent’s base and stealing their flag, you’re sneaking into their base with a bomb, attempting to plant it. It’s totally identical, just in reverse.
Bomb Armed
Assault comes in multiple flavors and the two being introduced with Operation: Frontlines are:
One Bomb
Neutral Bomb
Some of you might be wondering… “What’s the difference?” Thank you for asking!
Neutral Bomb starts with the bomb in a neutral position on the map (usually the middle) and each team fights for control of the bomb. Once you have the explosive in your possession, your objective is to infiltrate the enemy base and plant it.
One Bomb is a one-sided objective mode that alternates with each team taking turns being on offense and defense. If you’re on offense, the bomb will spawn in your zone and it’s up to your team to mount the assault on the enemy’s base. If you are on defense, your goal is preventing that bomb from being planted in your area.
Those of you that played Halo 2/3 know that One Bomb on Zanzibar/Last Resort was the classic One Bomb experience. So classic that we’ve got not just 4v4 Assault available, but also Squad Battle Assault pitting 8v8 in the battle of the bomb! After all, Assault is not only a really great 4v4 objective mode, it also plays very well in larger teams.
The 4v4 Battlegrounds
Some of these maps should tickle the nostalgia bone. You can bookmark the modes here:
Another classic throwback map with many different ways to get the bomb into the enemy’s base. Are you going to convoy it in vehicles? Run it in on foot? So many options, so little time.
High Ground is to 4v4 One Bomb as Kusini Bay (aka Zanzibar aka Last Resort) is to 8v8 One Bomb – classic and iconic.
Refuge
Credits: Cousin Tim, InfiniteForges, NightAvenger01, Micheal B 2K8 Bookmark
Is there anything you can’t play on Refuge? One Bomb joins the pantheon of other modes playable on this map.
One other housekeeping note is that the Infection playlist is being added to Action Sack and Castle Wars is being added to Squad Battle. Both will be available via Match Composer so fear not, you can still find and play your favorite modes.
And with that, it’s time to return the bomb to the enemy. Good luck.
