The Heavy is a towering hulk of a man that hails from the USSR. He wields a minigun with purpose, like a Russian Rambo on a quest for glory, and eats homemade “Sandviches” to restore health. He’s no pushover, to say the least – but he lacks intelligence and finesse. That is, unless he’s in the hands of the right player. The Heavy is a powerhouse on the battlefield, and is the largest and possibly most dangerous class in Team Fortress 2.
The match begins and you rev up your mingun. Any man (or woman) worth his salt is playing Capture Points, so that’s what you’re playing this round. As you charge out of the gate, cooking your mingun for content, a Pyro who took a page out of the Japanese Kamikaze handbook charges you with not even a modicum of self-preservation in mind.
Fully spinning, you twist your minigun to the side, a hail of bullets cascading outwards as you do so, you point the muzzle of your minigun toward the charging Pyro. Several seconds of bullet-spray directed at the Pyro crumples him into a heap, but you’re set ablaze and you need to cool off.
You retreat back into a corner and stuff a Sandvich into your pie-hole; it’s as though you haven’t eaten in years, and given your nationality of the USSR, this could be likely.
The Sandvich lodges in your throat as you eat every last bite, making guttural noises as you do so. You finish eating and it miraculously cures your burn wounds, as though it were Manna from Heaven. You shrug it off and keep going.
As soon as you finish your Sandvich, a Sniper targets you, his Aussie accent practically echoing through the battle of his Sniper Rifle.
It was a grazing shot, only a flesh wound. Any other Class would have fallen. But like Hulk, Heavy is strongest there is!
‘Heavily’ wounded, you run back toward your Forward Operating Base, hoping to raid the medical supply closet for an instant-cure. You make it halfway there and a Medic, Medi-Gun at the ready, approaches you and starts applying his healing salve on to you.
Invigorated with new purpose, you run out and swing your minigun in an arc, penetrating bullets through building and flesh without discrimination. Through the chaos, a Scout, lit on fire with a thick Boston accent, charges you with a baseball bat.
You slide your minigun toward the charging Scout, desperate and immolated, trying to hit you with the power of a Louisville Slugger. Just a few seconds of desperation and you slide your mingun slyly toward him, although certainty not subtly, and let loose.
He falls. It’s as though you just massacred all of Boston.
Two down, many more to go. With the healing salve being applied to you constantly, you charge out, taking bullet after bullet, rocket after rocket, fireball after fireball, but you keep going.
You’re a Heavy, man. You can take it.
Another one falls. Doesn’t even matter the Class. You’re unstoppable.
You taunt, because you’re a former member of the USSR and you can say things like this with impunity.
The opposing teams comes at you piecemeal, a disorganized mess, and you dispatch them all the same.
But they get more organized. They see you as a priority. Threat numero uno.
But it’s a-ok, because your Medic has his Übercharge ready. It’s time to send them to the Gülags (inappropriate umlaut much?) …of death.
Now it doesn’t matter what the opposing team tries to do to you. You are invincible. But really, you are.
They come at you, the entire team comes at you, but it’s not enough.
And it will never be enough, at least for the 15 seconds or so that you are in Übercharge mode. A good Pyro might blast you with his flamethrower, but it won’t hurt you. It won’t stop you. It can’t stop you.
Can’t stop. Won’t stop. Plow through the entire enemy team without impunity. An enemy engineer sets up a turret in a last ditch effort.
Boom! It’s gone. You destroyed it. But now your Übercharge is also gone,
Now you’re going to be destroyed. No doubt. The entire team is targeting you and there’s nothing you can do. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Everywhere to die.
The entire team unloads on you, bullets, rockets and fire alike. Your Medic falls.
You’re inconsolable now. Your companion is dead. Your comrade. Your German Doctor-in-arms. It’s too late though. You surge forward, soaking up what little damage you could. You could run away and eat your Sandvich. You could don your Fists of Steel and soak up more firepower.
But that’s not who you are. You’re a berserker through and through. And you’ll fall on your sword. Our your minigun. Or both.
The Aussie Sniper shoots you straight through the head.
You’re dead and down. Don’t worry though, you’ll respawn in 10 seconds time. After all, it’s just one round of Team Fortress 2.
This is what it’s like playing a Heavy in Team Fortress 2; a looming presence on a battlefield of German medics, Bostonian Scouts and all-American Engineers. A man might be just a man, but a Heavy is a God of War.