I hitched a ride on a Pelican on the Metropolis level in Halo 2, and it dropped me and two marines off in the outskirts of town, “outside” the game. We stood there on an invisible plain above the water, surrounded by backdrop, invisible walls and broad faces of buildings. The Pelican floated nose-up in midair, smoke still pouring from its engines. If I walked up to it, the instructions said “Hold X to flip the Banshee.” Flipping it spun it around. If I jumped on top of it as it spun, I’d get pushed high into the air as if from a seesaw. If I flew too high, I’d die.
Leisurely exploring the limits of Halo and Halo 2’s virtual worlds is at least as fun as playing the game itself. When you jump over a wall to a place without a floor, a place you weren’t supposed to see where the virtual physics start to break down — game time seems to stop. You feel you’ve broken free of the construct, you’ve left the Matrix, and it’s exhilarating. A virtual enlightenment? Imagine doing the same in real life — peek over a fence to see that the sky beyond is just a painted backdrop.