Regret. It comes in many forms.
Some cheat themselves on “cheat meal” night, filling up on both food and self-loathing, while some dwell on missed opportunities along the walk of life. For me, however, regret has manifested itself in the lengths I resorted to in my hunt for Reaper’s Mariachi skin in Overwatch.
I always laughed at Oblivion’s horse armour. I ridiculed people who bought hats in Team Fortress. But I’m no better, I’m cut from the very same cloth as these people. It’s not a fine silk either, more like a tawdry hessian sack. Like one who pokes and prods at Call of Duty’s shortcomings yet continues to buy it each and every damn year, I’d become the problem.
I’ll preface this by admitting that the time I’ve sunk into Overwatch is minimal. And yet, a tiny man resembling myself clambers onto my shoulder, whispering softly into my ear that it’s okay to take the easy road. The microtransaction road, that is.
“You’re not a loser,” he said.
And I believed it. Oh God, I believed him.
So I visited the store from within the Overwatch menu to peruse my options. Being one who’s not exactly frugal with my finances, I opted for the biggest bundle they had. You know, it’s just good to have ’em.
“You’re not a loser,” the words echoed.
As the dull glow of the television lit my sunken face, I clawed frantically through fifty loot boxes. I hoped for a cute black number, complete with sombrero and Flamenco guitars or, at the very least, an Explorer outfit for Winston so that I could dress him as the nasty hunter from Jumanji. But alas, the borne fruit were a sour, bitter pill.
My bounty included seventy-four sprays. (The same Soldier 76 spray dropped twice from the very same box, amazingly.)
Thirty voice lines.
Twenty-one skins, only three of which were rare. (Two were the same Roadhog skin.)
A whole eighteen player icons to represent me out in the battlefield.
Eleven useless victory poses that are bound to go unused as I continue my astounding losing streak.
A solitary emote and over two dozen duplicate items.
From those duplicate items, as well as coin drops, I banked over $2,000 coins. I quickly deduced that it was enough to simply purchase both skins I so rabidly sought. So I did. I stared blankly at the menu screen as a moustachioed ape stared back at me, his harrowing gaze rich with judgement.
I pondered life as I shut down Overwatch.
“You’re not a-”
Yes, I am.
