But I could only watch these games cautiously out of the corner of my eye, rarely touching the controls myself or observing for too long - because every time I did, the nausea kicked in. There was also Heretic, which took Doom's dark aesthetic and transplanted it into a fantasy setting, which I really liked. My brother blasted through Doom in a few weeks and went on to play most of its brethren from the era, including games that had technically released earlier, like the underrated Blake Stone: Agents Of Gold, the totally forgotten Ken's Labryinth, and Wolfenstein 3D, the father of Doom. Then I'd quickly look away and refocus my eyes on the Archie comic book or whatever I was reading, safe in the knowledge that as long as I didn't observe too closely, I could get a fair idea of the action without having to deal with the crippling motion sickness that followed. I eventually developed a "watching Doom from the periphery of my vision" skillset, and I'd steal furtive glances here and there just in time to see my brother collect a key or shotgun an Imp. But this vow didn't quite take hold, since my brother kept playing the game, and my eyes would inevitably veer towards the computer whenever he had it on. I eventually recovered after a few minutes, and made a solemn vow to never again engage with Doom. | Image credit: Rock Paper Shotgun/id Software I could only reply, "Doom makes me dizzy! So dizzy I want to barf!" Doomguy's face is bloodied and battered, as is my head after having endured nauseau to capture this screenshot. When my brother noticed that I wasn't doing so well, he asked me what had caused my traumatic state. The only problem was it made me so nauseous after ten minutes of playing that I had to retreat to my bed, burying my head in the sheets to stop the spinning. (Ironically, it's now public knowledge that Sierra came surprisingly close to purchasing id Software in 1992, which might've changed my gaming tastes.) But this didn't stop me from acknowledging that Doom was something truly special. All of the gunplay, when combined with the kicking Adlib soundtrack, was balls-to-the-wall cool, and we were both amazed that Doomguy's face - centered as a lighthouse-esque anchor point in the middle of the HUD - became progessively bloodier the more damage he took.Īt the time, I was a dedicated point and click adventure fan more at home with Sierra's King's Quest series than I was with anything so gutsy and gory. My brother took to it with supreme enthusiasm, because here was a truly radical game with lots of baddies you could blow to bits, and it was all so up close and personal. I was maybe seven or eight years old at the time (probably way too young to be anywhere near Doom, but hey, it was the 90s) and my brother and I had got our paws on Knee-Deep In The Dead, the first shareware Doom episode. But camaraderie aside, I wasn't aware that my motion sickness could be triggered by video games until I encountered Doom. I'm not alone in this regard, as there are millions of kindred souls out there who also struggle with close-up cameras that trick us into thinking we're moving when we actually aren't. I get visually-induced motion sickness very easily, and first-person shooters are excellent at triggering that spiraling feeling in my brain and gut. It's the first game that made me so sick I wanted to puke. ![]() But I have a personal connection with Doom that's a bit special. There are many reasons to commemorate id Software's 1993 jaunt through the demon-infested corridors of Mars, from the fact that you can play it on every device known to man to its undying modding scene that even lets you pet Cacodemons. Welcome to Doom At 30: a week-long celebration of three decades of id Software's seminal shooter.ĭoom turns 30 this year, and that's a cause for celebration.
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