Save Yourselves!: A Left 4 Dead Multiplayer Diary
12/8/2008 6:49 PM | 6 Comments | Page 5 of 10
Chapter 3: The Bridge
It's our turn to be human again. (I'm sure my girlfriend has said that to me before...) I admit to being nervous, thinking that after the thrashing Team Fischer took, they'll be wanting serious payback.
Fischer: We wanted it. Oh, how we wanted it.
Orland: I like to think I'm taking the lead a bit here, but Russ is usually out in front and seems to have the best awareness of what's going on. He's always the first one to see and hear the special zombies coming, and usually the one to push the Hunter off me. I begin to feel that my job is to protect Russ at all costs, though of course I'd never say as much out loud into my headset.
The best part of being undead? The commute. You can totally walk to work from here. Or shamble, as the case may be.
Jones barks at me, drill sergeant-style: "Don't say such piffle! We'll just power through the level and we'll be fine." So far, we're the only ones to survive a chapter, Alexander observes, so we know what we're doing. I take point, still thinking to myself that this is not gonna be easy. I think it's at this point that Jeremy, a friend of Scott Alexander's, joins us. He gets incapacitated in a Horde rush and I help him up.
Jones: Personally, everything seemed to kind of go to hell when Jeremy arrived. Yes, Jeremy, even though I don't know you, I am blaming you for everthing.
Caught unawares, I get pounced on by, I think, Fischer. The mocking skull appears underneath my Gamertag. I'm dead after saving someone. The cruel irony burns. I watch and hear the remaining Survivors try to soldier through. Jones sums it up best: "It's like that first night in Shawshank!" Black screen.
Orland: I'm proud of how our team is starting to work together on the zombie side. We're finally getting some Boomer hits in there, even though none of them are from me (the game refuses to let me be my favorite zombie type). I'm more than happy to leap in as a Hunter when the Horde attacks, though. We get another technical win on points, but are still losing by a few hundred overall. "We need to survive!" I desperately tell my teammates.
Jones: One of our strategies that emerged from a few rounds of multiplayer with
Gus Mastrapa last week is that, as humans, you must keep moving. Linger around too long in any given area, and shit is going to go wrong. So, as humans, I kept shouting, "KEEP MOVING!" into the headset -- something that I'm sure my teammates really appreciated.
Fischer: We were on the KEEP MOVING! tip, too. This is where Kyle really started to step up as a motivator, ensuring that we were always on top of dangers. Shame stings, and he was determined to salve our wounds with the gentle aloe of command. Or something.
Put yourself in her shoes. Would you want anybody seeing you in granny panties and desperately unmanicured fingernails?
We do pretty well as Infected. I bounce between Boomer and Hunter, performing better as the feral zombie. As we're stalking Team Fischer, I hear Scott Alexander say to someone, "Have you ever thought about writing poetry?" I can't imagine what context made that comment make sense. It's a complete non-sequitur.
