Quoted By:
>You will never be a real scout. You have no scattergun, you have no pistol, you have no bat. >You are a heavy twisted by sandviches and shotguns into a crude mockery of nature’s perfection.
>All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your team is disgusted and ashamed of you, your “mercenary friends” laugh at your ghoulish gameplay behind closed doors.
>Scouts are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed scouts to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even fat scouts who “pass” play uncanny and unnatural to a scout. Your player model is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a medic to ubercharge you, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a glance of your unreliable, terrible shotgun.
>You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
>Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a minigun, wind it, and obliterate the enemy team, and become a heavy again. Your team will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll let you play with an icon marked with your class name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a heavy is playing. Your gameplay will not improve, and all that will remain of your legacy is a heavy with a minigun.