Fortune favors the bold, and in Hell misfortune tears cowards apart. When it was released one cursed day in 1993, the original Doom shook the gaming industry to its core with its hard-as-nails pseudo-3D gameplay and relentlessly violent visions of Hell. I still curse that day for sealing the fate of my beloved Amiga—and celebrate it for being a revelation: the single biggest evolutionary leap I had yet witnessed in gaming. It changed the medium forever and firmly established the first-person shooter as a genre.
As I write this, Doom has been back for a while, and I’ve finally gotten around to playing it. Developed by id Software themselves—the creators of the original—Doom (2016) stays remarkably true to its single-player roots. The developers knew exactly what they needed to deliver: speed and bloody carnage. This is not a game for the faint of heart, nor for the squeamish.
To me, it feels like a much-needed reset after years of FPS design drifting away from its core principles. In Doom (2016), you no longer hide behind chest-high cover, reload obsessively, or endure smug multiplayer taunts hurled at your corpse. Multiplayer exists, of course, but the focus is squarely on a fully realized, demanding single-player campaign.
It almost feels like being back in 1993. The difficulty settings retain their classic names—“Ultra-Violence,” “Hurt Me Plenty,” “I’m Too Young to Die”—and certain trophies double as affectionate fan service. Beating the game on any difficulty unlocks the “Knee-Deep in the Dead” trophy, named after the first episode of the original campaign. It’s a small touch, but it hints at ambitions beyond a one-off revival.
At the same time, Doom (2016) introduces crucial new ideas. Most notably, it actively rewards aggression. Charging headlong into danger is not only viable—it’s encouraged. Health is regained by tearing enemies apart at close range, perpetuating the momentum of violence. It’s hard to describe this sensation without sounding unhinged: the thrill of sprinting straight at an enemy, ripping it limb from limb, and emerging stronger for it. Doom fans recognize this instinctively, like a shared, unspoken language.
Another major addition is verticality. You can jump freely—and later double-jump—across arenas with fluid, forgiving controls that never interrupt the flow. Enemies warp in from all directions, forcing constant movement, precision shooting, and situational awareness. Power-ups, health, and ammo must be tracked on the fly. Your actions feel instinctive, almost reflexive, as if the distance between you and the Doom Marine has never been smaller.
Most enemies are faithful reinterpretations of classic Doom lore, with only a handful of newcomers. Their behavior patterns remain recognizable, though they’re far more mobile. The fireball-throwing Imps, in particular, are now agile and almost simian, clinging to walls and leaping across platforms. Despite the visual overhaul, any Doom veteran will immediately recognize their silhouettes and tactics.
Once sufficiently weakened, enemies stagger and flash, opening them up for one-hit executions known as “Glory Kills.” These serve as the game’s central throughline: the opening scene begins with one, and the finale ends on the same note. There’s a staggering variety of them, depending on enemy type and attack angle, and they never lose their impact.
During Glory Kills, you’re briefly invulnerable and rewarded with health. When your health is low, the payout feels even more generous, leading to absurd moments where self-preservation goes out the window in favor of a rejuvenating bloodbath. I only wish you could see the hunger in the Doom Marine’s eyes when he switches from flight to fight in a split second.
The arsenal mirrors the original closely. The humble pistol is replaced by an energy weapon with unlimited ammo but modest damage. Beyond that, it’s the familiar lineup: shotguns, rocket launchers, machine guns, plasma rifles. Each weapon can be modified in meaningful ways, adding flexibility without clutter. When ammunition runs dry, the chainsaw—limited by scarce fuel—provides a brutal but effective means of replenishment.
Boss fights appear primarily in the latter half of the game, and while they’re nostalgic throwbacks, they also highlight the weakest aspects of modern Doom. These encounters boil down to pattern recognition and damage sponges with exposed weak points. They resemble boxing matches with guns, and I couldn’t help but wish for more elaborate, arena-driven confrontations instead.
Between combat encounters, exploration takes center stage—and here the game falters slightly. Secrets are abundant, but uncovering them often involves scouring bland, murky environments for obscure cues. This disrupts the otherwise relentless pace. Lore snippets, collectibles, and optional challenges are scattered throughout, offering tangible rewards but demanding patience.
Visually, the world is intentionally uninviting: sickly sulfur yellows, toxic greens, metallic greys, and dusty browns dominate the palette. Nothing feels coherent or alive, and trying to read meaning into the environments is largely futile. Yet the rewards tied to exploration are too valuable to ignore.
The levels themselves are abstract and sprawling, prioritizing gameplay clarity over realism. Immersion stems not from narrative context, but from embodiment—being the Doom Marine rather than following his story. Thanks to the impeccable mechanical execution, what could have become repetitive never does. Considering its length—roughly ten to twelve hours—it’s remarkable that boredom never truly sets in.
This isn’t due to the story, which is disposable by design. It unfolds through audio logs, holograms, and video calls, drowning in technobabble and satanic overtones. Humanity discovers Argent Energy on Mars; greed leads to Hell breaking loose; demons invade—yada yada. The Doom Marine himself couldn’t care less. He never speaks. When first confronted with a mission briefing on a screen, he promptly smashes it apart. His guns, fists, and chainsaw are his only language.
I find it amusing that Hell’s denizens regard him as a mythic terror—the “Doom Slayer”—whispering legends of his past massacres. He’s as wordless as the demons he slaughters, yet that absence of personality is perfectly fitting. Doom has never communicated its values through dialogue.
Playing it means shutting down the parts of your brain reserved for narrative comprehension and sharpening your reflexes instead. Awareness, speed, and split-second decision-making are everything. A single mistake can be fatal, as Hell is riddled with chasms and hazards. The thunderous soundtrack and oppressive audio design push you relentlessly forward, amplifying the adrenaline. The fusion of horror imagery and power fantasy creates a constant state of tension, and I ended every session exhausted.
The game starts brilliantly, delivering an intoxicating rush of speed and brutality. Over time, however, that initial high fades. The second half remains enjoyable but feels more like an endurance test. New upgrades, weapons, and enemies arrive at a steady pace to maintain momentum, yet there’s room for more variation and surprise.
Even so, Doom (2016) stands as a strong foundation for the future of single-player FPS campaigns. With more diverse level design, richer exploration, and more inventive boss encounters, it could have been exceptional. But I won’t complain. As it is, Doom gives me exactly what I wanted. If this is the baseline, the franchise’s future could soar—straight into the firmaments of Hell.
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