1993 might have been the best year ever - Doom, 36 Chambers and Monday Night Raw all debuted. To admit that they're all 20 years old is not something I'm entirely okay with. There's a perfect parallel between the three as key landmarks in my formulative years of becoming a sociopath. Doom was the first exposure I had to firing a gun in a video game not attached to Megaman's arm. I was up to my ears in imp blood and it couldn't feel more normal and right to me. I belonged on the Shaolin the rugged isle of Staten. I know I did. I belonged fighting off mountain goat headed 8 foot tall beast warlocks who vary in hit points depending on their color - this was who I was. I was 12 and I finally knew I had a dick. If my life had a family shield it would consist of Mr Perfect holding a space marine zombie in the Perfectplex, with a giant Wu-Tang logo behind them.
You find yourself in a 3D environment doing the best you can to bring the motherfucking ruckus in... actually I never even looked into the back story, where the hell was I? Did the character have a name? In my defense you couldn't fire a minigun into the backstory text on the screen, so I moved on immediately like I was making a prison break. I assume my name was Ghostface Space-Marine at some point I was getting revenge for that guy Shymeek at the beginning of 7th Chamber who was leaking all types of blood from his head and shit. Right? From 36 Chambers? This piece has a narrative, buy in already.
I never learned the names of the guns, just assigned a number value to them and only later in discussions with other fellow socially-crippled classmates would I learn that 6 was a plasma rifle and 5 was the rocket launcher. I suppose I never learned because that game treated ammo like it was the special needs post-lobotomy Kennedy and would stow it away in hidden rooms never to be seen or talked about. Rockets and Plasma Cells were more scarce than accurate lyrics to a Gorogoth album. The game had the audacity to feed you clips and shotgun shells like there was a joke you weren't in on.
I can't tell you how long I stared at the bodies on pikes, I had never seen anything like that before. It was insanity. I felt like the game was mocking me for trying. My mind was thoroughly smashed by the gore. Was I old enough to even be in a room while some adult played this? Thankfully my parents don't value me or my development so there I am hurling my fear back into pink monsters that are sometimes hilariously Predator invisible. Actually they just looked like static tv running around and missing me. Seriously if you ever got hit by the lower level enemies you're a complete noob pussy. I'm convinced I could circle strafe my way through Vietnam and Iraq.
Doom breathed life into video games for me. I walked off consoles, never owned a Sega Genesis or Super Nintendo, why would I? Those were for herbs with no clue on how to live. I was a tween with refined taste. I didn't even have pubes yet and I was already looking down on consoles as godheads for the unwashed and filed. "Cool handheld controller, did you get that at the mall? Pfffffft."
I'm so cool.
The best thing I can say about Doom is due to its success and impact Resident Evil 4 became a possibility down the road. After Doom and the 36 Chambers slowly convinced me dying is inevitable, Resident Evil 4 convinced me that there is beauty in this world worth dying for.
Jed is a fancy boy who knows that dropping a reference to Mr. Perfect in the opening paragraph is a surefire way of getting something on this site. He can be found on Twitter at @jedgatsby. He also had nothing to do with the terrible pun title at the top of this article. Don't bring that shame to his door.