I hear a lot of people whining about hip-firing MG rambos. For one thing I don't think it's fair to expect MGers to be totally defenseless when they aren't deployed and even though you should be able to iron sight them standing up I can live without that.
The hip firing is absurdly random as to which direction the bullets fly (I dare say even immersion breaking). Not only that, it's not like it's without precedent. I give you Gunnery Sergeant John Basilone:
{...}The Marines fought bravely against the onslaught, but the Japanese human wave attacks never stopped, never relented, and for the next 72 hours, day and night, there wasn't a minute of their lives that wasn't haunted by a screaming Japanese dude stuffing a blade in their mugs or zinging bullets into the American sandbags. Basilone, however, wasn't going to ****ing budge. For three three days and nights, without food or sleep in a marathon of carnage that can only be referred to as "Jack Bauerian", Basilone lugged a giant-*** 100-pound Browning heavy machine gun from position to position, constantly re-adjusting his fields of fire and constantly making sure that everything in front of his position was coated in a thick hail of tracer fire and crunchy lead death. When one of his squad's three operational machine guns jammed up from caked-on mud, overheating, or having the trigger lever worn out from extended bouts of cap-busting, Basilone worked his nuts off to clear the weapon and get it operational as soon as possible. When taking the time to pop open the firing mechanism wasn't practical because of all the pissed-off soldiers trying to put rifle rounds into his brain from point-blank range, Basilone dropped the gun, pulled the .45 from his waistband, and opened fire on the attackers with his pistol, sometimes from distances of less than ten feet. At one point he was down to just two survivors in his squad
The hip firing is absurdly random as to which direction the bullets fly (I dare say even immersion breaking). Not only that, it's not like it's without precedent. I give you Gunnery Sergeant John Basilone:
{...}The Marines fought bravely against the onslaught, but the Japanese human wave attacks never stopped, never relented, and for the next 72 hours, day and night, there wasn't a minute of their lives that wasn't haunted by a screaming Japanese dude stuffing a blade in their mugs or zinging bullets into the American sandbags. Basilone, however, wasn't going to ****ing budge. For three three days and nights, without food or sleep in a marathon of carnage that can only be referred to as "Jack Bauerian", Basilone lugged a giant-*** 100-pound Browning heavy machine gun from position to position, constantly re-adjusting his fields of fire and constantly making sure that everything in front of his position was coated in a thick hail of tracer fire and crunchy lead death. When one of his squad's three operational machine guns jammed up from caked-on mud, overheating, or having the trigger lever worn out from extended bouts of cap-busting, Basilone worked his nuts off to clear the weapon and get it operational as soon as possible. When taking the time to pop open the firing mechanism wasn't practical because of all the pissed-off soldiers trying to put rifle rounds into his brain from point-blank range, Basilone dropped the gun, pulled the .45 from his waistband, and opened fire on the attackers with his pistol, sometimes from distances of less than ten feet. At one point he was down to just two survivors in his squad
