Although I know for a fact I came off as a huge dick today. I was playing the Drak Carnival campaign with guys I met in a Lobby, I suggested we try the Gnome Chompski Achievement where you have to rescue a garden gnome you win at a game stall at the carnival. It took us three runs of ammo to get the alloted points to unlock it. After an hour and 50 minutes we finally made it to the finale with gnome still being held onto. After an epic stand off with hordes and two tanks the chopper comes, I'm down to my last health so I decide to just run and take the gnome as far as I can before I die. On the way to the chopper I find a med kit and heal while the others are holding their own behind me so this gives me time to dash ahead and get in to wait for them, only they get bombarded by a horde and I'm left in the helicopter holding a gnome and not wanting to let go because daminit I want this fucking Achievement.
Which I got.
They weren't happy that I didn't help them and kicked me after the credits.
TL;DR: Game is fucking choice. I would be totally down for a QCL4D2 Squad.
I see you, lifting off in the helicopter, looking down at your fellow soon-to-be-ex-survivors who have that look on their face, that look only someone about to die a horrific death can ever have. As the zombies overrun them, their mangled corpses soon to be a feast, a single tear rolls down your cheek. You turn your head and stare in the grateful eyes of the gnome in the passenger seat. You wipe away the tear, and pull the helicopter up into the sky, towards salvation. They don't understand, they could never understand my feelings for you...
I love this game, but sometimes I get the feeling karma doesn't give a damn what I do in this game. When I happen to be the firstone to get to the chopper/boat/end of the bridge etc I'm like : okay I've just manage to get to relative safety, now I'm going to use my sniper to cover my teammates on their way here. *unloads clip, killing 45+ zombies* Hey guys I've cleared you a highway to heaven, come on guys, we can do this!"
Then the second after that, I get smoked, charged or spitted on, forcing me to abandon my place on the chopper. The 3 other guys get in soon after while the hordes finish me off. Before the other 3 realize what just happen, I'm down, defending my sorry ass with that lame pistol, an army of zombies quickly dropping my health to absolute death. Even when it's not hopeless, the others just stand there, waiting for me to die, ungrateful sons of *&^*^&$^