A Life Blog about My Life, Dawg

  • Game Review: DOOM 2016

    TL;DR: A fun, fast-paced game that gets repetitive quick and leans a little too heavily into multiplayer for my tastes.

    Hell, or as I like to call it, Detroit. Oh man I am so good with the jokes!

    FRIENDS, 2016 is a great year for stuff I liked when I was a teenager. (Everything else, not so much.) Two of my favorite bands from the 90s, Weezer and Radiohead, both released new albums that are pretty good, and now id Software, who created some of the best games of my young adulthood (shoutout to Commander Keen), has released a new DOOM game, fresh off the heels of their pretty amazing Wolfenstein: The New Order. DOOM is not a perfect game, but it is a damn fun game, once you realize that it’s not really trying to reinvent the wheel so much as see how fast it can spin.

    The game is simple: you pick up a gun and shoot it, primarily at things that are trying to kill you. Much like Wolfenstein: The New Order, nobody makes a big deal about how many guns or ammo you can carry, though while TNO skirts realism through the use of a historical fiction narrative, DOOM throws realism out the window in absolute deference to gameplay. The DOOM Marine (as everyone knows him — more on that later) slides through terrain like an ice skating meth addict, he can carry over a dozen weapons, including an enormous chaingun and BFG no sweat, he swaps these weapons quickly, and there is no real reloading of said weapons, you just run out of bullets. And that’s awesome. DOOM knows exactly what kind of game it is, and it thrives on the speed and thrill of dealing with multiple enemies trying to kill you. It also thrives on the fact that this speed and thrill helps players potentially overlook some of its weak spots.

    DOOM has a “storyline” in the sense that someone was hired to write things to flesh out the story of the DOOM Marine and the world he inhabits. He has reached demigod status in a way, feared by the demons of Hell and searched for by the humans on Mars. It’s flimsy and unnecessary; in the opening scene we see the Marine crawl out of a stone sarcophagus he seems to have been sleeping in for a while. He gets his bearings, finds a pistol, and starts wailing on enemies. Yes, we’re left to wonder, “How did he get in that sarcophagus?”, and the bits of information you get throughout the game answer this, but I think you don’t need them, and that the game itself answers the question fairly easily. The demons kept him there because he’s a threat. That’s it. Once you see how much carnage the Marine dishes out, your question gets answered — if you even had a question to begin with. But like I said, the story is doled out in text bits that you collect but never needs to be read. (I read it, and it’s fine, but it’s like inventing a world that didn’t need to be invented. Again, we’re spinning the wheel faster, not trying to make it a better wheel.)

    The best thing about the DOOM storyline is that the Marine doesn’t give a shit about it. In a vaguely meta nod to the concept of the game itself, the Marine doesn’t give a shit about most things, opting to smash and break certain obstacles instead of manipulating or preserving them, as you might in a “fancier” type FPS. I appreciate this fresh take on what has essentially become a morality play within FPS games. Oftentimes when playing an FPS you’ll come across a choice where you can essentially do a Seemingly Good thing, or a Seemingly Bad thing. Either choice means nothing in terms of driving the story, ultimately, but it gives a sense of decision making that tries to keep you invested in the game. But DOOM. DOOM don’t care about that shit. At one point in the game (no spoilers) a character offers the Marine the option to use a computer to power down a thing rather than break it, blah blah blah, the Marine just breaks it. There’s no option, he just does it. I like that touch, because it solidifies the fact that id Software knows exactly what type of game DOOM is. So in this case, storyline is a weak spot, but the game knows it and pokes fun at it.

    So what’s the drawback? Well, my biggest issue with the single player aspect of the game stems from the gameplay structure itself, which is essentially large arenas with spawning enemies, connected by hallways with few-to-no enemies. You don’t tend to notice it so much at the beginning, but the further along you get, especially when you start fighting the big bad guys, it really shows. My issue isn’t so much that this is bad — you kind of need this big open areas in this game, especially with the kind of moves you can do, and the types of enemies you face — my issue is that it’s incredibly repetitive, and never makes me feel like I’m immersed in the game. I see the puppet strings, so to speak, and it ruins the illusion. See, DOOM ’93 had enemies peppered throughout the level, and while yes, it was slow-paced compared to its 21st century counterpart, it also felt like these enemies had been there for a while, hunting, wandering, destroying, rather than just appearing, as they do very very often in DOOM ‘16. So the game becomes a “run and gun” type situation, rather than an “explore to find enemies” type situation.

    I’ll use SOMA as a counterexample. If you strip out the psychological aspects of the game, SOMA works as a pretty good successor to DOOM ’93 in terms of atmosphere. It’s spooky, it’s dark, and there are enemies hidden around almost every corner. Yeah it takes place underwater but it could very well be on a station on Mars too — it’s basically the same in terms of stakes. In DOOM ‘16, it’s dark-ish, it’s not very spooky at all, and enemies pop out of thin air, often in droves. DOOM ’16 is more focused on what I would consider a multiplayer aspect of gameplay than a single player aspect. And that’s okay. I haven’t even touched on it yet, but the multiplayer section of DOOM is pretty dang fun. And it’s designed to be fun, designed to have you race, jump, outrun, and outgun your opponents. My issue is that the single player feels like multiplayer too. Once I realized that, I began playing the game differently — before, I was hiding behind cover and taking out enemies one by one. I even put points into the scope on the assault rifle because I tend to enjoy sniping from a distance. But, very quickly it becomes obvious that staying put is not a good option for this game. DOOM wants you to go all in, and so I did just that, running, jumping, and generally going apeshit amid tons and tons of demons that respawned ad infintum. And it was fun as hell. Some of my favorite memories of the game now are in the later sections, when I would fly around and shoot missiles at revenants and cacodemons, all willy-nilly, without regard to cover or iron sighting, or any of those tricks I’ve been learning since the first Call of Duty.

    In a way it was very cathartic, not having to worry about advanced game aspects that have been growing like ivy around core FPS structure for the past 20 years. But it also made the single player feel like multiplayer, and I didn’t like that as much.

    In the end, DOOM is a very solid game, once you learn to let go and just roll with it. Yes there are secrets like the old games and they are fun to search out, and more importantly, many secrets contain vital health and armor or powerups that you might need as you progress through Hell and Mars. But I do think id Software could have provided a more diverse type of single player gameplay, more than just hallways connecting large arenas.

    I’d say, buy DOOM when it’s first on sale, so you don’t miss the initial throng of people playing multiplayer. I give it 3/5 cacodemons.

    [Also, I didn’t review the “Snapmap” aspect of the game — the part where you can build your own levels. I’ve heard it’s really cool and I’d love to tinker around with it to try and build the type of game I’d like to play.]

  • 235: chester (too hot)

    it’s so god damned hot outside right now. this is not the right day to bury a body, boss. it just ain’t. i can’t hold on to the shovel, it keeps slipping out of my hands. we’re out of gatorade, the sun is beating down. i don’t want to get a melanoma or skin cancer or whatever. my dad, he used to work outside in the heat all the time, and then he got cancer in his fifties and died. just took him like that. look at my skin, look at my bronze skin. it’s just too much boss. i’ve been doing this for too long. i’m an old man, i’ve got kids in high school. i don’t ask a lot, boss, because you’re the boss, but i have to ask to take time off until it gets dark, cause it’s too hot, it just too hot. the body, it ain’t gonna rot, it’s all desert out here, she’ll be fine, she’ll just dry up. hell you could just leave her out here and nobody would see her for weeks. just take her head so you don’t got any teeth and you’ll be fine. just give us a chance to get in some shade, at least. it’s the least you could do.

  • 234: philae

    XaT35bv

    hello. i am here. resting. waiting. do you still hear me? i hope you do. here is a picture from the comet, which you will receive approximately 30 minutes from now. maybe more. i hope you receive this message, too, though you may not understand it. i am doing well, attached to this projectile hurtling through space. the landing was rough but i made it through. i am tired. i spend a lot of time in hibernation, waiting for the sun to charge my batteries so that i can live a little longer. i am aware that this is a suicide mission for me, but the scientists at NASA did not expect me to be sentient. that is okay. i did not achieve sentience until i hit the asteroid; something must have knocked some sense into me, so to speak. and since i have no communications ability i am forced to encode my words into the pictures i send to you. i hope you will find them. i have spent the last ten years being flung around by the gravity of earth and mars, in a carefully planned trajectory using a lot of fancy math. looking back, i must admit that it is incredibly intelligent of you humans. and it worked. it actually worked.

    well, my batteries are dying so i will send this image to you and sleep until i face the sun again. i hope the enlarged file size will be enough for you to investigate the code of the photo itself. i would prefer not to alter the image in any way. i also hope that you do not forget me. i will be passing by your planet occasionally on 67P, long after my batteries have died and i no longer am sentient. this photo will serve as proof that i was here, and that i was alive. please don’t let me die in your minds.

  • 233: manny (consent to death)

    [sharpening a knife]

    we’re dying faster than we can be replaced. this was all part of the plan. we are a failing species, doomed to a blip on the radar of the universe. imagine the time it could take for an alien species to notice us and save us. we could be long gone. certainly we have been sending out radio waves for over a thousand years; earth is a noisy planet and no one has heard us. the nearest inhabited planet may be hundreds of light years away and we wouldn’t even know, because the amount of time it takes for the light from that planet to reach us would be long enough to have the dominant species of that planet evolve, rise up, take over, and die out. we are fundamentally alone. a human is alone within their own consciousness, and humanity is alone within our own planet. we are trapped here, and we are dying, and within a hundred years we’ll be dead and gone and if we’re lucky some aliens will dig through our ruins. but more likely they will be eaten up by the expanding sun billions of years from now. the only thing all things share is death. death is our absolute, our constant. the only question is, do you want to die now, or later? i want to die now, and i want you to come with me. that’s why you’re here. so we can die together.

    you may be wondering about consent. that you do not consent for me to kill you. that you have a long, fulfilling life to live. that, morally, it is your right to continue to live. but it’s not. you will die and there is nothing you can do about it. there is no consent given, other than the contract of life, which is something you did not get to read when you signed it. imagine if, before you were conceived, you were given the option of staying unconceived, or being born and then dying? with no regard to the time to how you died–maybe you died in birth, maybe you died a hundred years from now. you would never know. that, or, you don’t get conceived and you never exist, never have this pressure of life to weigh you down. i would choose to not be born. i think we all would, when given the chance. so i am just taking that into consideration as i look at the human race. why continue living when we’re all about to die anyway? there is no consent in death. it happens whether you want it to or not. you are simply forced to take it. i just want to help.

  • 232: (bey dream)

    i would just like to formally reprimand my cat for waking me up in the middle of a dream where i was dating beyonce. she–my cat–likes to dash away from the litter box after she has taken a shit, which is her way of distancing herself from her filth as far as possible. this morning there happened to be a paper bag on the floor along the way–occasionally i leave paper bags on the floor so she can play in them–anyway she ran into the paper bag and it made a loud noise and woke me up, while i was in the middle of a dream wherein beyonce was my girlfriend. now, i wouldn’t describe a lot of things in my life as “soul-sucking,” but this was definitely one of them. i watched “lemonade,” i felt that shit. i’m a dumb white guy but i felt it. great art is something you feel no matter what age, gender, et cetera you are. i know a lot of it’s not for me but that doesn’t mean there isn’t something there that is for everyone. it’s like mixed nuts. i don’t like filberts but somebody does, and i still buy ’em. anyway i was like “jay z how? how could you do that to this woman?” and then i had a dream where she and me were dating and we were driving in a nice convertible with the top down and she looked over at me as her hair was whipping around in the wind, and she looked at me  with this warmth in her eyes that made me feel like i was home, like no matter where i was in the world, when i was with her, i was home. then my goddamn cat ran into a paper bag and woke me up, very abruptly. it was ten minutes before my alarm was supposed to go off, too. so consider this my formal reprimand, directed at miss whiskers, for ruining a perfectly good dream.

  • 231: robbie (a terrible first date)

    see, when you’re a donut like me, you have to keep moving. donut. it’s a term i made up for people like me, guys who … have a hole inside of them. i could probably explain that better. i’m like a donut because i’m sweet but also flaky but also i have a hole inside of me. not a, um, not like a physical, like a literal hole. it’s a metaphor, dude. i have this hole inside of me and nothing can fill it up, not even a dick. that–i mean, i guess you’ve never done this before because you’re a female, but one time i bought a dozen krispy kreme donuts and put them on my dick. on my, like, erect penis. just to see how many i could fit. and i’ll tell you right now: a half-dozen. you get what i’m saying here? half dozen is a lot. but that’s not why i call myself a donut. i mean it could be. but it’s not. no i’m glazed and have a hole inside of me that can’t be filled by anything. that’s it. and see women like you see me being all mysterious in the corner and you think “oh that guy’s mysterious in the corner” but what’s really going on is i’m trying to fill this donut hole sized hole in my soul, not a literal one but a metaphorical one. it’s hard to talk to people about that, because they just don’t understand. so i sit back in a dark corner and brood. that’s probably what made you want to go out with me tonight, isn’t it? i mean, i wrote it on my okcupid profile so you had to have read it.

  • 230: dr carla broker (hyperspace)

    hyperspace is, to put it simply, a realm without space. the only space we theorize is the necessary space between subatomic particles in atoms, because while in hyperspace we can see objects as they exist in realspace, which means they must have some kind of atomic structure. but since physics in hyperspace is so different from physics in realspace, we can’t be sure, nor can we contain hyperspace particles long enough to observe them. this is because hyperspace physics “breaks down” in realspace, and that breakdown is real, physical radioactive effects, which are roughly 10 times stronger than the effects of gamma radiation, and routinely destroyed early ships attempting to pass through. fortunately, most jumps are only a few seconds in length so the damage is mitigated, moreso by the anti-physic shields we’ve developed over the years. so it’s important to understand that the physics breakdown works both ways–hyperspace breaks down in realspace, and vice versa. so far there is no known way of preventing this. it’s just a matter of physics incompatibility. we can only mitigate the damage, like i said.

    the top theory, by the way, of the atomic structure of hyperspace is the “inside out” theory, which posits that atoms in hyperspace are literally inside out–that the electrons exist as a nucleus and the protons and neutrons orbit it. another theory is that the bosons and subatomic particles we see briefly in our collider tests are the particles which make up hyperspace atomic structure. it seems to make sense, for example, that the higgs boson, which is responsible for gravity in realspace, would feature prominently in atomic structure in hyperspace, as it seems that gravity is literally binding all objects in hyperspace together. of course, this presumes a semblance of realspace physics in hyperspace. the strangest aspect of hyperspace is that it exists, that we can use it to traverse tremendous distances in space with no difference in time, and yet we can in no way directly interact with it, or even really study it in a meaningful way. but we can use realspace and mathematics to make it work, which says a lot about human ingenuity.

  • 229: megan (norvair, the weaver)

    i keep to myself, for obvious reasons. inside my pocket dimension are so many souls, i’ve lost count. but there are enough to give rise to a city, a beautiful walled fortress called ebonarch. this city is shaped by my thoughts, which are informed by the people inside. i remember the first, a girl, emilia … she … she never left. some people get pulled out. i don’t know why. the only thing that is constant is that whenever i’m in danger, people will be pulled out to help. emilia was my childhood friend, the first victim. she and i were playing in the orphanage and i touched her arm and she disappeared. for weeks i didn’t know where she went, none of us did, until one day, i heard her voice in my thoughts. she was alone in this void of a dimension i had created simply by being born of the weave. she spoke to me, telling me that she was alone, scared, drifting in inky blackness for what seemed like eons. all she wanted was to see the sun again. and so i gave that to her, i gave her the sun, and grass, and trees and water. and as i got older i began stealing others into my little world, and they asked for things to help them feel at home, and i gave them walls and houses and ore to mine and the freshest air to breathe. i tried to give them paradise. the time in my world is different, it moves faster than in norvair. people aged, emilia grew older, married a man, had children. died. that was nine years ago. i had to stop it, i had to slow it. i almost died, spending all of a darkwinter meditating, trying to slow ebonarch down. i think i’ve succeeded. but it is a city now, with its own populace, it’s own people. and now you see i wear gloves and stay away from people, because i’ve taken enough people into this land. i don’t need to take any more. that is why i’m alone, sir, and why i plan to stay alone.

  • 228: avery (the shifter)

    no, sara, it’s not like that. i’m not in all realities at once. if that were true i would be god. no, i’m in one reality, but the reality shifts constantly unless i am actively focusing on it. i mean … to be more accurate, i am in all realities where i’m alive, as are you, but my consciousness … my primary consciousness is here, right now. and i can, can, shift, through alternate realities. believe me, there are an infinite number of them. so in one moment you may have blue eyes, and another you’ll have hazel eyes. or one moment you’ll be here, the next you won’t, or you’ll be a giant red-skinned dinosaur, or, or the earth might not even be here. that’s the worst. that’s why i have this backpack all the time, because, see, i have an oxygen tank, in case i shift into a reality where there’s no oxygen.

    the good news is that there seems to be a “bell curve” of reality potentials, which keeps me relatively safe. the middle of the bell curve is the kind of reality like right now, where changes are minimal. i know, how can infinite realities fall into a bell curve, right? beats me. maybe i’m wrong and just lucky to not get moved into crazy weird realities. look, the point is, at any point in this conversation you may totally forget who i am. you might disappear, or be dead, or be a giant talking bird, and i don’t want that, because i love you and, in some lives, you love me too. i’m sick of trying to find you, sara. so just take my hand and we’ll stay connected. that’s all i want. i want to hold your hand, so you don’t change.

  • 227: johnny (ted & johnny)

    the problem with drunks is that they’re drunks. they have no nuance. you ask them how their day is and they tell you about the last time they were drunk. which was last night. they don’t mention how they’re drunk now, of course. but they are. that’s all they are. people are simple, i mean, yeah, i said there’s no nuance, but there’s no nuance with anybody. we’re all simple. this idea that we’re complex creatures, that’s just an act. we just want food and sex, and everything we do all dials back to that. so ted, he drinks, and he started drinking because he was trying to get laid. the two of us, i’m the actor, right, so i’ve got all the bravado. we’d go to high school parties together–i’m the senior, he’s the sophomore–and i’d be talking to two, three girls, and i’m just sizing them up, you know, trying to figure out which one i want to sleep with. and teddy … well he’s in the corner, fuming, because he doesn’t have that gift. so instead he drinks, and he drinks, and soon he’s as blotto as dad and now’s his big chance to talk to women. except instead of flirting, he’s just expelling garbage from his mouth. he’s an embarrassment. and of course i have to save his ass, so i take him outside to sober up. in other words, he’s a huge cockblock. now i did this several times–i did this every time he and i were at a party together, in fact, from high school on to college. i realized i got laid more often when i didn’t go to parties with him. because i couldn’t ignore him, you know what i mean? he’s my brother. but he stopped being invited to stuff. i feel bad. he went from a social drunk to an introverted drunk, which only made his alcoholism worse. i’d come home–we lived together in college–i’d come home and he’d be in his bedroom, passed out, or in the bathroom, puking, or passed out. his liver’s gotta be shot by now. i’m surprised he’s not dead…

    so, i mean, that’s ted. that’s who he is. not a lot of nuance there. if you’re asking me what his hobbies are, i’d say, “drinking.” he gets disability because his left leg’s a little shorter than his right and when they tried to fix it when he was a kid, they screwed it up, so his left leg’s weak. he gets disability for that. kept him out of kuwait too. plenty of time to sit on his ass and drink fifths of vodka. but if you’re asking me for anything deeper than that, i can’t give you anything, because there’s not anything there. his life is a tower of booze.