Bawl of Duty: how to be a multiplayer catastrophe

We've been feeling pretty good about ourselves of late, what with Matt's (presumably long-dead) Guinness World Record, Mike's Olympic victory, Log's breakthrough discovery that Hitler is kind of like Prometheus, and Jonty's miraculous collection of Spelunky-flavoured swearwords, soon to be published by Everyman as a 20 volume hardback edition with genuine blood-inked illustrations.

But browsing a recent comments thread, I uncover the following aside from long-time forumite CunningSmile: "Yay for another 'OXM Team are crap at most things' article, always cheer me up and make me feel better about never unlocking a Hard mode achievement." Thank you, sir, for this timely reminder of our editorial priorities. It is not our lot to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, for that way accursed self-esteem lies. We're here to humiliate ourselves for your edification, like circus clowns before Heath Ledger made circus clowns all cool and sinister.

I'll let you in on a little secret, internet - failure is really easy, especially when it comes to multiplayer games. Feel free to follow along with my simple blow-by-blow instructions. You'll be the butt of every team-mate jibe in no time, I guarantee it.

Use voice communication to stop communication

The garden-variety Xbox Live headset is a valuable means of idiocy. Used incorrectly, it allows you to coordinate manoeuvres with your team in order to overcome material odds and minimise casualties. Don't risk it. Turn the mic volume up, play a dozen Youtube videos simultaneously over your laptop speakers, and as the match begins, start a conversation with somebody in the next building, preferably a Chinese peasant with acute tinnitus.

Miss completely or cop out when healing/reviving people

This one's my favourite. You know in Battlefield 3 when you spot a guy trying to do jazz hands with a pair of chest paddles? He's not trying to jump-start a cloud of mosquitoes, dummy - he's proudly advertising the fact that he'll never have to worry about getting press-ganged, because no military organisation in its right mind would ever want to conscript him. I like to do it while jogging backwards and forwards, as though attempting to confound the Enemy by overloading his ability to compute depth. On the off-chance that I actually do revive a team-mate, I immediately cook a grenade and seize him in a tearful embrace. Our children must never know how we suffered, comrade. Innocence is the most precious gift of all.

Each game has its own special take on this. In Gears, you'll be mostly trundling left and right like an anxious shopping trolley, waiting for the HUD to wake up and tell you where the body is. In Left 4 Dead, it's all about getting somebody halfway to their feet, then losing your bottle when the bar's three-thirds full, cue melodramatic flailing animation. Speaking of Left 4 Dead....

Shun and despise fire safety

Burning things in a videogame is always a risky business, thanks to newfangled propagating fire systems, but how much riskier in Left 4 Dead, where the combustible materials don't stay put. This creates exciting opportunities for sucking, like when you spot a guy drenched in Boomer Bile, pounding at the maddened horde with a frying pan. Want some gasoline on that, chum? Oh, your mouth says "no" but the voices in my head say "YES". Rejoice, for soon life will be cleansed of sorrows by Father Flame.