For some of you it was GoldenEye, for some of you it was Call of Duty, and for some of you it was Halo, but regardless of the game, almost every boy goes through a phase where they love nothing more than to house Doritos, chug Mountain Dew, and simulate the cold-blooded murder of their closest friends. After a long week of stumbling through Steinbeck and memorizing the periodic table of elements, Halo was for exhausted high schoolers what booze is to adults, a way to unwind and forget the troubles of the world. It turns out flipping a Warthog and unleashing some round from a rocket launcher does wonders for the soul.