Mon Dieu!

When I first saw the Jarate, I wondered how on earth the Sniper would use it. Would he open up the jar then fling his home made juice, with the jar in tact? Or would he, as it turned out to be, just throw the whole jar?

Now, we all know realism has very little say in the world of TF2. But what if it did? I’ve pondered at this and made a comic for your amusement:jarate1

(Click for great success)

For a better quality version, see it on my Deviant.

Constructive feedback is very much welcome.

Useless?

So, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything of substance. You can blame work for that. But something that I happenned upon today made me think long and hard.

The Lowdown

I stumbled my way onto this thread, while perusing the Steam forums and the “knowledge” contained within them. It struck a chord with me, because I use and love many of the weapons labeled as “useless” or “weak” by this thread. So, without further ado…

The Rundown: The SMG

“It’s the SMG. Definitly”

Now, spelling errors aside, lets examine why people might think the SMG is useless.  Alright, starting with stats, the SMG does 8-12 damage per shot at point blank, 4-6 damage per shot at medium range, and between 4 and 5 damage at long range. It does 11 damage per shot on a minicrit, and does 24 damage per shot on a full crit. The SMG has a fire rate of about 10 shots per second, and a reload time of about 1.1 seconds. Sure, these stats pale in comparison with the Minigun, but the SMG isn’t a primary weapon, it’s meant as a sidearm, with it’s main purpose being finishing off enemies who you’ve already heavily damaged. I guess this is where some people draw issue with the SMG.

I see people all the time claiming that the SMG is only good for spychecking. I have yet to find this statement true. The reason why? The SMG doesn’t do enough damage. You’re much better off using the Kukri if you want to spycheck. The SMG’s real strength lies in it’s combo ability. Now that the Sniper/Spy update is out, I’ve seen an awful lot of snipers prancing around with the Huntsman and Jarate. An effective combo, if your opponent can’t dodge.

meetthesniper3

The Huntsman+SMG

A true power combo, the Huntsman and SMG can result in a particularly high KD if used properly. I find, that when I use the Huntsman, a good 50% of my kills come from finishing enemies off with the SMG. With the Huntsman, if you’re lucky, a fully charged bodyshot will kill whoever you’re fighting, but if not, you’re faced with a few decisions. Do you: A. Try for a second shot with the Huntsman (But what if they round a corner) B. Pull out the Kukri (Useless unless you’re at point blank) or C. Hit them with the SMG. I should hope you’d go with C. The reason being, even if you have to pump ten shots into them to bring them down, you’re going to get the kill. With Medics and Scouts, even a few shots at long range will kill them if they’re wounded. The tight spread and high rate of fire posessed by the SMG make it the perfect finisher, even if some people don’t see it that way.

The Sniper Rifle+SMG

With the regular rifle, the same tactics and usage apply, but because of the rifle’s dead accuracy, you may want to mix up SMG bursts with noscopes.

The Kukri+SMG

Miss that second, finishing blow? No worries. Keep your enemy at bay with the SMG.

Part Deux: The Scout Pistol

“The bat kills people quicker than pistols which is why I rate pistols useless.”

Lies. As any good Scout will tell you, the pistol is the second most important, and sometimes the most important weapon in a Scout’s arsenal. The reason? It all comes down to reload times.

meetthescout2

The Scattergun, FaN, and You

For those who don’t know, the Scattergun, and it’s unlockable counterpart, the Force-A-Nature, have long reload times. In fact, some of the longest in the game. This is understandable, given the sheer power that these two weapons can inflict at close range, but when you run out of shells, the Scout’s 125 HP doesn’t always allow him much time to reload in a heated battle. The Scattergun takes a staggering 3.56 seconds to reload, and the FaN takes a fairly long 1.64 seconds. It is for these long reload times that the pistol exists. Be it a last ditch survival effort, or finishing off a weakened enemy, the Pistol gets the job done when you’re out of primary ammo.

The Distance Factor

The Scout’s primary weapons both specialize in close range (namely point blank) destruction, and are pretty ineffective when not lodged in an enemy’s face. The Pistol allows the Scout to have some distance capability, be it picking off a sentry outside its range, or picking off a fleeing enemy. When you take into account how big of a deal distance can become, the Pistol seems much less useless.

Conclusions: Is Anything Truly Useless?

In short, no. There is a use for every single weapon in TF2. No two weapons are the same, and no two weapons do things equally well. The diversity of equipment in TF2 is one of the things that makes it great. It makes the game fluid, unpredictable, and a lot more fun. Point is, every weapon fits in somewhere, whether it’s using Bonk to distact a sentry, planting a rocket at someone’s feet and sending them sailing, or blasting someone’s speed into oblivion. Actually, there might be one useless weapon: No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get any kills with the Sapper.

Hats: Valve’s hidden analogy

So, hats. We all want them. We wanna wear them, find them, boast them… But why are they included? They’re, as Valve said, purely cosmetic. Is it to make the fans happier? NO, you moron. Valve is a business. They don’t care about the fans, as the new game, L4D2, shows, despite all the FREE content, and listening to the fans, and the many bug-fixes. Only a faceless, uncaring company like EA would do those things.

Er… What was I talking about? Oh yeah! Hats!

*Ahem* After many, many hours idling, I have discovered the true meaning behind hats.

The Capital Vices. The Cardinal Sins. Of which there are seven. At this point, you may be thinking, “What is this guy smoking?” Well, let me explain.

Hats, and all the things they are a catalyst for, are analogies for the seven deadly sins. How are they related? Well, there are nine classes, right? And two of those classes were updated at the same time. What’s nine minus two? SEVEN!

ALSO! Two classes (Snipah and Soulja) have “Hats” that aren’t actually hats.

Okay, that was stupid. Let me continue…

cp_steel0000

The first sin is Luxuria. (Extravagance, luxury, ect.) Hats are rare. Rare things are fancy. Lavish. Wearing a hat shows off that you have it. Luxurious indeed. This sin is often substituted for Cupida, or Lust. Makes sense. If you don’t have a hat, you lust over it. You MUST have a hat. It is a LIFE AND DEATH MATTER that you get a hat. Next sin;

cp_steel0002

Gula, or Gluttony. There are two types of people in this world, each committing a fair share of sins; People without hats, and people with hats. People with hats are often very lucky. Like, so lucky they could cause a Casino to go bankrupt within hours. If these people are lucky, they often get hats. The hats take them over. They spoil themselves. They delete their hard-earned Sandviches and Backburners to get MORE AND MORE HATS. IT DOESN’T MATTER IF IT’S A DUPLICATE, THEY NEEEEEEED THE HATS. As such, they are gluttons.

Avaritia, or Greed. Pretty much the same as the above paragraph.

cp_steel0003

Acedia, or Apathetic-ness. Often substituted with Sloth or Despair. People without hats feel this a lot. After your hundredth hour idling, you get kinda depressed about your lack of headgear. I know I have. I know you have. Next sin.

cp_steel0005

Ira, or Wrath. What do you do when things go bad? When you get ambushed by a BackBurner W+M1 Pyro? When you turn a corner into a Crocket?

When you see someone with a hat you don’t have?

That’s right, you RAGE. And when you RAGE, you RAGE hard.

cp_steel0006

Then we have Invidia, or Envy. Rather self explanatory. You see hat wearing jerk, you feel envious.

cp_steel0008

Finally, we have Superbia, or Pride. Wearing a Hat is a statement. The kind a of statement that yells; “I NEEEED ATTENTION CAUSE I HAS A HAT.” Kind of prideful, eh?

This is my reasoning for what I know to be true. Hats are the work of the TRAIN GOD DEVIL. SAVE YOURSELVES BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE!

Lunchbag Fu. Lunchbag based kung fu

LUNCHBAG FU! The innovative and compelling kung fu based dynamic lunchbag attack system only from Valve!

Hating the Jarate and it’s weakening effects? FIGHT BACK! In these easy steps:

  1. Consume Sandvich(s) – high fibre multigrain bread is best.
  2. Obtain newspaper
  3. Relocate to lunchbag filling station
  4. Wait. Patiently. Do crossword
  5. Fill lunchbag
  6. Warn teammates not to enter the lunchbag filling station for a few minutes
  7. DEPLOY LUNCHBAG FU!

lunchbag_fu

So easy and satisfying. Heavy is VERY happy with Lunchbag Fu! Sniper… not so happy.

That’s where we’ve sunk to…

There has been some talk about the Jarate. Some say it is in poor taste. Others that it is just some random April fools joke blown way out of proportion.

Personally, I’m relieved with the Jarate introduced in the latest class update. It doesn’t take a whiz to realise Valve is looking out for number one, but I could see how you would be pissed over the whole situation. In the current economic situation it’s possible that Valve is just taking a slash at costs, and rushing things out. But really, they’re just answering the call of nature. Who could blame them for spending a penny on this one?

Yes, that’s right. How quickly we’ve reached the bottom of the barrel in terms of cheap laughs. Toilet humor – specifically pee humor. Only Valve could take a public sanitation issue and turn it into a major gameplay mechanic. Not that we here at ubercharged are trying to take the moral high ground on this one. I’m looking forward to playing as the heavy when he gets his s**t eating grin on.

We should have seen this coming

In some ways, this is a really natural progression. What did you all expect? Lets look at Valve’s other games:

Half-life 1

The staff of the Black Mesa research facility may have had to put up with transdimensional aliens violating their occupational health & safety code, but they didn’t want for state of the art rest rooms. There is even an ample supply of paper thanks to a little known delivery feature of the Black Mesa transport system.
half_life
Rumor has it there was even an advanced research project to dispense soap via quantum entanglement

Half-life 2

OK, this is where Valve started getting weird. Yeah, City 17 had it’s share of derelict restrooms. That is nothing new in a game. Where things go strange is in the Deathmatch release. Specifically the usage of the gravity gun, and various plumbing fixtures.
toilet
Any game that releases marketing material promoting the benefits of hurling toilets at your enemies is starting to get a little… odd. You can see the evolution of Jarate directly from this moment.

Hell, there’s even a t-shirt about it. It’s that deeply ingrained into the Valve mindset.
dmgroot

Portal

Not too much going on here. But at the start of the game, you are looking straight at a toilet bowl. In fact, you’re trapped in a perspex box with very little BUT the toilet. Slightly odd? Yeah, but not as bad as some other stuff.
port0

Left 4 Dead

Yup. Toilets.
l4d

But What about Team Fortress 2?

See a pattern with all these games? They have toilets. Nothing major. Most places humans reside have one. It’s a basic requirement for living people.

But what do you never see in TF2? That’s right. The old white porcelain bowl.

So it’s only natural that the Sniper would have to do his business, and come up with… creative… ways of dealing with it.

And so we can expect more pissing around with this crap from the other classes.

Starting with the heavy.
With his bag.
And you know what’s in the bag?… It’s not sandviches… At least they aren’t sandviches anymore.

Let’s Get Heavy

Heavy metal that is! As one of the laziest contributors on the site, it is my honour to pass along a shout-out to my friend Andy Hauck, or as he is known in the TF2 world, -=I Drink Your Milkshake=-. So what does he have to do with Team Fortress 2 aside from being a regular player? I think I’ll let this video do the talking, lord knows we’ve done it enough around here already. Crank your speakers up to eleven for maximum awesome, it’s “so metal you could upgrade your sentry with it!”

And here’s an awesome picture as a filler an added bonus!

Rawkin' on.

Rock on!

Edit: No kiddos, this isn’t the IDYM of CP fame. I was unaware of said person as I don’t follow CP. However, I do have a spiffy new download link compliments of the artist for you to enjoy.

A Team Fortress Bedtime Story

There are lots of parody videos, comics, and the like of Team Fortress 2. For whatever reason, it inspires fans to creative works, most likely due to the vibrancy of the characters. And no character is more interesting than that of the mysterious Spy- and now, he even comes with his own built-in “Your mother” joke! This video is especially notable not just for the amusing video, but also the impressive impression by the person voicing the Spy. It sounds just like the newer voice clips.

Warning: Despite the title, reading this to your children is not advised.

Meet the Spy Aftermath: A TF2 Story

The RED Spy flicked his bloodied knife shut expertly and strolled over suavely to the BLU intelligence briefcase.

Really, it had all been so simple; that little twerp was so easy to mimic, his urgent and cocky manner. And he had the fortune to have that BLU Spy taken out, the one who was actually starting to piece together the puzzles. Those simpletons! That lunkhead Soldier really was unskilled.

As he hauled the intel briefcase over his shoulder, he brushed off dust, lint, and blood off his suit. He had to look the very best. After all, his beau was looking back at him.

Sifting his hands through the compromising photos of his beau – oh yes, the Scout’s mother – he picked one out delicately. It was the one with him and her, going together for a romantic evening on his moped. He smiled wistfully.

“Ahh…ma petite chou-fleur.”

He took the photo and put it delicately in a little frame in his disguise kit; a reminder of the woman he loved.

As he strolled down the now empty hallway, he turned a corner.

Mmpph mmphh mmpphhh

As the Spy walked past the struggling figure, it only struggled and mumbled even harder. It shook violently, apparently not at ease.

Though he was bound up and gagged, the Spy took out his Ambassador – a gun he had procured from one of Europe’s finest smiths and engravers – and pointed it at the figure as if to prevent it from making a sound or escaping. Maybe he wanted to show the beautiful engraving of the figure’s mother on the side of the barrel. Either way, though, he had no intentions to kill him.

The BLU Scout struggled furiously on the ground as he looked at the disappearing Spy with pure hatred. That son of a bitch!

He stretched his grazed wrists in an effort to somehow break the bonds. No luck. And he couldn’t call for help – everybody on his team was basically dead.

He shut his eyes and tried to gather his scattered thoughts together – it had all started with an assignment from the Announcer. Apparently, there was a lead to RED’s new weapon. He was to go check it out.

First of all, he noticed that the subtle blue dot that always accompanied him wasn’t there. By the time he came back, he saw the Sniper’s corpse, the latest victim of the RED Spy.

Exploring the base further, he found the Engineer’s beloved creation, in smithereens. There was the Engineer, shot right between his freakin’ eyes. And the Demoman, shot while he was in the crapper.

The Spy had gotten deep when he reached the hallway to the intel room. The Medic was dispatched, though he was missing his glasses.

Then he had finally encountered the Spy, ready not to take the intel, but to ambush him, the last remaining one. He couldn’t believe how deftly the Spy fought. All those years fighting on the rough streets of South Boston meant absolutely nothing, as the Spy bound and gagged him, as well as slipping him a tranquilizer to keep him immobilized for a while in a discreet hiding spot.

Finally, he had witnessed with horror as the Spy took his form and tricked the Heavy and Soldier. He didn’t see what happened in the intel room, but he heard the struggles. And the stabbing noises proved that the RED Spy was successful even before he came out.

What to do? It was wearing off, but he couldn’t get help. Everybody was dead. What he would do now, he reasoned, was enter the intel room and see the carnage for himself.

As he inched his way to the door, he saw, through the crack, the Soldier and Heavy’s stunned, lifeless, blanched faces. Even more grisly was the BLU Spy’s decapitated head. Friendly fire? The Spy doesn’t tote a shotgun.

The intel was gone, but what was this? Photos? A parting gift? The Scout peered over the counter.

Hours later, when the Medic finally respawned, he arrived at the crime scene to find three corpses – one without a head – and a body that looked a lot like the corpses. It was too much for the poor Scout.

*    *    *

The Scout sat in his room, thumping the Sandman in his hands. In shock. Without a thought. A daydream.

He had kept the photos, but what for? To constantly remind himself of the horror? No, he needed it somehow. It was essential in a way he didn’t know how.

He had escaped the fury of the Announcer today, but that didn’t matter. Everything was coming together like a jigsaw puzzle. He now knew why his Mom skipped out on his baseball games back at Boston. He now knew why Dad was never heard from again.

Dropping the bat, he put his head in his hands, shaking it in despair. The Announcer had just given him another assignment – the RED Spy had to be dealt with, yet sending the whole team in was not an option. He was to go track him down; after all, he was the lone survivor of the massacre.

The Scout took off his hat and scratched it, ill at ease. He was going to have to face his worst nightmare, once again. But he was going to have to pay a visit to somebody before he went spy-hunting.

*  *  *

The Sniper drove the camper van into the parking lot, where he parked it so that the window was facing the apartments.

I like the feel of this thought the Sniper as he gripped the leather wheel of the rented camper van. When the Scout asked the Sniper to accompany him, he immediately listed his contacts in South Boston. Lucky him – he rented a good camper van, and with discounts too.

The Scout hopped off the van, hiding the weapons in his backpack. He almost forgot that he could no longer carry weapons out in the public. As he made his way up to the apartment, he tried to act casually. It wasn’t easy – the receptionist looked at the Scout funnily when he failed to greet her; he used to do that all the time when he still lived there.

The smell of the musty hallway hit him as he took in the nostalgia. Second room from the left he had told the Sniper. He didn’t bring him for nothing, as he entered the room. The door was unlocked.

He almost shed a tear. He was home after years, home after all that had happened ever since he was taken away. There was his Little League trophies, his multiple awards and a picture of his brothers’ mug shots. He smelled his ratty old glove, taking in the odor of the ballpark as well. He even saw his mother’s purse.

“Honey?”

A familiar voice. He turned around to see his mother, dressed in a blue dress as usual. Her hair was in a pony tail, and though she had eight kids to feed and care for on her own, she still kept her form. Good o’ Ma. Her shining, motherly eyes nearly made the Scout break down into tears.

Nearly. Instead, the Scout took out his bat and advanced on her. He scowled and snarled, “Where’s my Mom?”

For a moment, Mrs. Scout looked confused. It only lasted a few seconds. Then she smiled. “What gave it away?”

“She never puts her hair in a ponytail. It’s always pinned-up.”

The RED Spy sighed, dropping his disguise as he flicked out his knife. His back was to the window. “I’d knew you would come back and try to discover for yourself. So predictable. For an answer, it’s yes; your mother is my little darling.”

The Scout felt a pang of grief and shock seize hold of his guts. He advanced on the Spy.

The Spy sighed. “I don’t want to give you trouble, but it looks like it’ll have to wait until your mother is here to give you the harsh truth.”

“Where is she!?”

For once, a look of anger crossed the Spy’s face. “Where is she?” he mocked the Scout in a whinny voice. “She’s with me! Why must you give me so much trouble?”

He circled the room, lighting a cigarette as he paced. The Scout kept his eyes on the professional. 

The Scout’s face contorted to reveal his utter disgust. “You don’t love her; she’s just another woman that you’ll toss away! Like all the other ones you encounter in your…little…missions!” 

The smell of cigarettes filled the room. The Spy blew a smoke ring before responding. “Before I went to South Boston, all the women I’ve met were shallow, mere playthings that cared nothing more than money and mystery. And they wanted me. I didn’t want them; I only used them for my own purposes, no more.”

He continued. “That’s when I met your mother. She was not rich, not famous, and merely middle-class. But all she cared about was her sons, you! You! And where were you? Playing soldier boy in a petty conflict!”

The Scout breathed heavily. He never answered Mom’s postcards to him.

“She needed me, she needed someone who could care for her when you and your petty brothers weren’t there. And for once, I found someone who craved not the physical pleasures of the world, but for something much more.” He pointed at the Scout. “You.

The Spy looked at the Scout, but this time without the steely, cold eyes. “I could’ve killed you, but I didn’t because you were her son. I still wonder why I spared you; you don’t really care for her anyways.”

The Scout’s throat burned. He was right.

And for once, the Spy looked back with passionate eyes. And he said the following with such conviction, that if you didn’t know him, you had to have believed him.

“Will you end this petty struggle with me? I have contacts; you can be my son, and we can finally start new normal lives, not ones dedicated to meaningless killings and slaughtering.”

Unfortunately, the Scout knew him all right. And at that moment, all he felt was a burning desire to kill that man. All thoughts of Mom and her suffering left him; he remained cynical yet.

“No. No freakin’ way! You’re lying. You never tell the truth! That’s impossible!” cried the Scout as he took out his scattergun. And from the looks on the Scout’s face, the Spy could see someone who could not be changed – someone who was brainwashed by his past life as a mercenary.

The Spy, with a disappointed, weary sigh, shook his head. “I hope enough sense comes to you soon enough, boy.” And with his back to the window, he disappeared.

A shot cracked out, shattering the window and knocking over the purse by the windowsill. The Scout ducked, realizing that the shot, inadvertently, was a distraction that helped the Spy escape.

“Get back, you -”

And with that, the Scout rushed into the hallway, full of malice. Ready to kill. Ready to get rid of the man whose latest victim would be his mother. He felt a cry rising to his throat, ready to ram his bat down the Spy’s throat. He now had a single target. He had a vendetta. That cursed RED Spy.

He had broken some bones in the fall from the window, but no matter. As he sped away in the moped, the RED Spy thought to himself bitterly. That boy could not be changed. And yet…he couldn’t kill him. Not the son of the woman he loved. His thoughts preoccupied him, as he sped off into the distance, into a future where he would never be able to start a new life.

The Sniper looked up from his scope, confused. What was the commotion? Had he hit him? He saw the Spy by the window and shot him. Was he dead? 

He saw a shadowy figure pick up the purse that he had shot down from the windowsill. It looked familiar…who was it? The mysterious figure picked up the purse, examined it curiously, and disappeared from the window. 

However, he was too preoccupied to think any further about the stranger. He was thinking all about the past few days. He had been sent, on a similar mission, to take out that RED Spy. 

The Sniper sifted through the extra photos he had taken on that mission. The RED Spy and the BLU Scout’s mother. He had been gunning for the RED Spy before the massacre, trying to prevent the horrible truth from being leaked out to the Scout. But it was too late.

As he sat back, he was contemplating. He had always thought of the conflict as being between men, nothing more. But what happens when those men’s loved ones were dragged into the fray? What was that?

The Sniper smoked a cigarette. And he only did that when he was extremely stressed out. In which he was. 

I guess that’s war thought the Sniper grimly, as he burned the photos and watched the extra evidence turn to ashes.

Dead Ringer + Kill Taunt = OMGWTFINVISISTAB

We all know that TF2 got bugs, and most of them can be exploited in one way or other. However, I believe this one takes the prize as the coolest exploit of them all, and made me realize that the Dead Ringer is actually still a powerful weapon, and that I might go and try that out on the Ubercharged server. People. I present to you… Spy taunt kill complilation. Spy smirked, and millions of raging souls whined and screamed (I think)

Plain awesome, in a box, dipped with chocolate cream, beautifully decorated, and with strawberry on top. That’s a bunch of epic kills that makes me “OMGAWESOMELOL” The next time I am on Ubercharged, I am going to OMGWTFINVISISTAB people, just to see their reactions.

…and I wonder how many of you know that I was in a rush to make this, being a video article with just some lines. Speaking of lack of lines, this is beginning to look alot like one of these articles with just a video and some lines! Videooooooo~ takes up too much! But all is begiven because it’s epic kills, but some shall complain about the lack of lines~

Because video articles usually lack content.

I haven’t sold out, I swear

I don’t get a lot of people talking to me, but these days, people almost always go, “Hey Sheep, what happened to being a career Medic?”

My most common answer is “The Spy Update.”

spy

He backstabbed my heart

.

Truthfully, my friends, I have fallen in love with the dashing French(maybe)man we call “The Spy.” He appeals to my tactical nature, espescially with the Cloak and Dagger. While Medic is not an option due to us having six snipers and three spys on our team, I join the madness, put on my balaclava and suit, and go hunting. While other Spies will jump right into the action, I lurk, invisible on the battlefield, advancing and stopping with my cloak meter, inching ever closer to that dominating Heavy, or that Engie whose name I’ve taken, I watch, I wait, then I strike. Gentlemen, I am a Spy.

But then, something odd happened on the server last night. I was on a team in Redfort with the usual post-update Spy and Sniper count, but the Spy count was low enough so that if I went Spy, I would tip the fragile balance of our team. What few assault classes we had were being deftly cared for by a Medic better than me, so I did something I haven’t done in ages.

I went Soldier, and I LOVED IT.

.soldiershovelspycrit

I just crit. IN MY PANTS.

That Hectic night was my best Soldier playtime in a while. A positive Kill/Death ratio, one domination for most of the game. (I had two for a while, but a very determined dominee wrested it from me.) Top of the scoreboard a few times. I was bouncing Scouts up into the air and getting direct hits on the way down. I rocket jumped behind a siper and killed him with my shovel, and hit a Heavy in the face with a direct crit rocket.

Then we switched the Convoy and things got… strange. It was still fun, though.

So, don’t expect me to be playing Medic all the time any more. I have two new classes now. I need to become a better spy, and I need to see if that night of Soldier competence was a fluke.

However, I’m not in a position to play any Team Fortress 2 right now, (I’m sure anyone on my friends list has heard me whine about it.) Here’s hoping I get a decent laptop for graduating this year and can get back in the fray soon. Who knows, maybe by the time I get back into Team Fortress 2 we’ll have resonably balanced teams.

Until then, I’ll have to survive on Ubercharged DnD sessions and Frank Sinatra.

Of Course I’m On Fire

You wake up. It is a beautiful day. You smell the metaphorical roses. You then proceed to smell the actual roses you haven’t gotten around to throwing out yet. They smell kinda gross. You reach over to your bedside table for your Spy gear and find yourself divided.

Which of the two new toys shall you choose? The Cloak And Dagger or the Dead Ringer?

Well, seeing as your experience with the Dead Ringer has been less than successful what with everyone knowing a dead Spy seldom means dead Spy since day two, you opt for the Cloak And Dagger. Ah yes, a true masterpiece of stealth and patience. No longer is there a need to desperately scramble for a safe spot to decloak. Now you could slip into the very heart of the enemy base and never let slip a sole whisper of your presence.

Sure, it’s a little slow on the recharge and it drains pretty quickly, but it’s a small price to pay for absolute invisibility.

Spy With His Prize

So off you venture into the world world to backstab you some bastards when… what’s this?! You’ve been discovered! Did you give yourself away? No, that’s not it. It seems someone erratically and unpredictably changed course and ran into you. Ah well, these things happen.

You try again, this time you get further into your mortal foe’s fortress. But wait! You’re on fire! No, no one spotted you. No, the Pyro wasn’t even trigger happy. He just happened to random flame that blank wall for no reason. Wow, what are the odds?

You make a third attempt. This time you choose to hide in a much larger space. The mathematical probability of being run into there is astronomical. A single Engineer leave his pack and strays… right into you. No one else there, any number of routes he could have taken… but no. He chose the one you were standing in the middle of. He fires his shotgun. It only nips you but it crits immediately and kills you stone cold.

You begin to notice a pattern.

Don't Take On The Sniper

For the rest of the day, through a series of cruel circumstances, you come to discover that the universe hates you with a deep loathing that transcends words. It doesn’t matter where you hide or how cleverly you time your movements. In some manifestation of remarkable evidence towards your cursed nature, enemies continuously fire into thin air for no reason and without failure hit you every time. It is never your fault. You never make a mistake.

Then it hits you. This is the life of a Spy. This is the reward for choosing the career of the most cunning and creative class. A monotonous living hell in which you will be punctured by arrows while cloaked that were never aimed at you, lit alight when one of your teammates chooses to run in exactly the same pattern you do and attract every enemy Pyro to your position, and where targets will never move… until the instant you choose to go for the kill.

To hell with this. I’m going Pyro.