It’s 2026, and I still catch myself saying “McCree” when I hit that flashbang. Old habits, you know?

Back in 2021, when the whole Activision Blizzard lawsuit exploded, I was just a guy who liked playing a cowboy with a robotic arm and a dubious sense of justice.

Then came that photograph. The one with the “Bill Cosby suite.” Suddenly, my beloved gunslinger wasn’t just a fictional character — his name was stamped across a real person, Jesse McCree, who’d been photographed alongside Alex Afrasiabi, a major figure in the scandal. The internet dug up the connection faster than Genji deflects a Dragonstrike. Forums melted. Reddit threads looked like crime scene boards. In-game voice chat became a messy debate arena where half the team screamed “just change the name!” and the other half argued that a name isn’t the man.

Me? I kinda froze. Every time I heard “It’s High Noon,” I pictured that creepy hotel room. Yikes.

The Overwatch social media accounts had been ghosting us for weeks — not a peep. The silence was louder than a Pharah barrage in a small room. Then, on August 26, 2021, the devs broke that silence with a single, shaky announcement: McCree would be renamed, and his upcoming story arc was getting shoved into a locker until the adjustments rolled out.

Man, you should’ve seen the chaos. The announcement felt like watching a gigantic ship try to make a three-point turn in a bathtub. Removing a name isn’t just tweaking a text file — it’s rewriting dialogue, swapping voice lines, updating UI elements, and probably soothing a few panicked project managers with warm milk. The poor game client itself seemed confused. For a while there, if you picked the cowboy, he’d just… grunt. No name in the kill feed, no hero callout, just the spectral echo of a fallen gunslinger.

I kid you not, I once watched a killcam where the enemy Cassidy (yep, we’ll get to that) eliminated me, and the text said “... eliminated you because we’re still working on it.” Okay, it didn’t say that exactly, but it might as well have. The entire ordeal turned into a weird piece of live-service performance art.

The community? Split like a banana at a smoothie bar. Some folks celebrated Blizzard finally listening. Others mourned the loss of “McCree” the way you’d miss a grocery store that changes its logo after 30 years. And a few trolls kept naming their custom games “Come Back McCree Plz.” Classic.

Eventually, the new name dropped: Cole Cassidy. I’ll be honest — I rolled my eyes at first. Cassidy? Sounded like a guy who sells artisanal soap, not a former outlaw. But over time, the name grew on me. The voice actors re-recorded lines, the comics got patched up, and Overwatch 2 launched with Cassidy proudly strolling around as if he’d always been called that. Now in 2026, ask a new player who joined during the Season 47 battle pass — they’ve probably never even heard the name McCree. The only remnants live in ancient YouTube montages titled “BEST MCCREE PLAYER 2020 (GONE SEXUAL)???”

This whole saga taught the industry a quiet lesson, too. Blizzard — and later Microsoft’s oversight — became comically cautious about naming characters after real employees. Rumor has it every new hero name now has to survive a gauntlet of background checks, ethical board reviews, and a possible duel with Torbjörn before approval. The internal naming committee probably meets in a soundproof room while nervously eyeing HR’s Slack status. I imagine a poor designer pitching “Winston Jr.” and getting tased immediately.

Looking back from 2026, was it worth the hassle? Absolutely. Every time I play Cassidy and nail a six-shooter streak, I’m reminded that a name carries weight — and when that weight is toxic, you better be ready to switch it up. The cowboy adapted, the game moved on, and I learned that sometimes your main hero can teach you more about accountability than any tutorial ever could.

So here’s to you, Cole Cassidy. You’re still a rootin’-tootin’ headache for backline supports, but at least now I don’t picture a hotel room every time you say “It’s High Noon.” Just… please stop fanning the hammer at my poor Zenyatta. That part hasn’t changed.