How to Play Overwatch

The game was still going.

Rarity's eyes darted to the controller resting on the ground inches away from Rainbow's fingers, and back to the ever-glowing TV, the menu of that ridiculous video game illuminating the room. All the incessant shooting and explosions had kept her from getting her beauty sleep, but the rest of the Rainbooms had practically fawned over it the whole night.

They took turns playing as the most preposterously designed characters Rarity had ever laid eyes on. A grumpy-looking dwarf, a metal ninja, a clunky old robot, and a fierce suit of armor among others. Rarity turned her nose up at the game, but oh, how they played and played.

They played until one by one, they all drifted right off to sleep. Hours passed, until only Rainbow Dash remained. It only took a few minutes with no one to talk to, no one to cheer her on, and Rainbow's head thumped down on the carpet. Rarity remained still, eyeing the controller like a stone gargoyle watching pedestrians down on a busy street.

She had watched. All night. Of course, it made absolutely no sense to her how anyone could possibly be so enthralled with such a waste of time and money. But... they were. All the Rainbooms had vastly different interests, but this odd duck was one of the limited items on their list of shared passions (if you could call it that). How?

It. Made. No. Sense.

Why not try it?

Rarity frowned at herself. What a pointless question to ask herself. What was there to try? It's a video game.

Rainbow Dash and Sunset Shimmer, I can understand. They love that kind of garbage. It's not that far of a stretch to assume Applejack might like it for that reason. It's... cartoony, so perhaps that is what gets Pinkie Pie. But Twilight Sparkle and Fluttershy abhor violence... so what am I missing?

Rarity tapped her chin. One game wouldn't hurt. Besides, it's 3 in the morning; with any luck, it'll just knock her right out.

Rarity leaned forward. Her pajamas rustled against the blanket as she curled her fingers over the still warm controller. With stealth that would make young Magneto proud, Rarity pulled it closer, and turned the volume down as low as reasonably possible.

Now... who should Rarity play as?

She pursed her lips as she scrolled. They were all ludicrous. All of them. Okay, maybe she should narrow it down. Just... pick a woman. Cross out all those ruffians right off the bat.

Rarity kept looking. There was a curiously colored woman with a rather large gun. The seductive poise, the devilish mystique. Widowmaker was definitely a good candidate.

"Not a very modest lass, now are you?" Rarity tutted as she examined Widowmaker's choice outfit. Boys these days. Honestly, do they have no respect?

Rarity grimaced as she scrolled to Ana. Okay, a bit too modest. Tracer, far too similar to Rainbow Dash. Zarya, too grotesquely built. Pharah looked like something out of one of Fluttershy's anime. This is hopeless!

Rarity stopped. This was different. Mercy.

A kind, yet sharp, intelligent face. A firm posture. A distinguished grace (as much as one can have in an angel costume). Rarity scowled at the subtle emphasis on her breasts, but she was forgiving.

Mercy was a true and proper lady. Rarity could work with that.

When she pressed A, she recoiled as she was immediately thrust into a match. So, they had started without her. Oh well, better late than never.

Moving Mercy was easy enough. The left stick thingy did that. The right one allowed her to look around. Okay, got it. What next?

I need healing!

Rarity stopped to read the text on the side of the screen. It came from a one Gamenut321. How imaginative. Rarity pressed forward down a street that was promised to be Hollywood, but looked like something out of the Wild West. Upon a sudden, one of those metal ninjas plopped in front of her, swiping his sword furiously.

He wasn't doing any damage, so Rarity guessed this person was a teammate.

I need healing! I need healing!

The ninja began rapidly crouching up and down in front of Rarity's avatar. What on earth did this person think they were doing?

I need healing! I need healing! I need healing!

"Heal this, you buggy little scoundrel!"

Rarity tugged the shooty trigger, launching a golden stream at the ruffian. Her haughty smirk faded when it did nothing. In fact, the little red bar over the pesky teammate began to fill.

Thank you!

Gamenut bounded away before Rarity could comprehend what she had just done. She sat for a moment, considering her action.

"Well well, a proper lady indeed," Rarity chortled. "Let those brutes stoop to violence. I'll be there to bandage them up."

After all, that's what Mercy stood for, no? What kind of guardian angel would resort to violence?

Oh, you punks! It. Is. On!"

Rarity steamed as she glided across the map. Her streak was not about to be shattered just because her pansy quote unquote "teammates" were too jittery to attack in full force. She gritted her teeth as little skull icons popped up on the screen.

"Oh, no you don't," Rarity hissed as she pressed Y. "Break time is over!" Rarity switched to her handgun, holding back that McCree who was just a little too bold for her liking.

Finally, her teammates gained enough sense to file into the objective while the enemies were battered. Moments later, they successfully captured it.

"Now, just hold it!"

20 seconds. The enemies had finished healing up.

15 seconds. They were incoming.

10 seconds. Rarity ducked behind a wall, peaking over to keep her team fully healed.

5 seconds. They were going to break through.

Overtime. In a panicked frenzy, Rarity bounded up, firing her pistol to keep those blackguards away.

Victory!

"Vic..." Heart racing, Rarity slumped back. Her trembling hands released the controller. They were covered with sweat. "So... so that's why they like it."

Rarity was too tired to turn around when behind her, six pairs of hands clapped rhythmically in sync six times.