The full extent of Wolfenstein 3D‘s popularity during 1992 and 1993 is difficult to quantify with any precision due to the peculiarities of the shareware distribution model. But the one thing we can say for sure is that it was enormously popular by any standard. Apogee sold roughly 200,000 copies of the paid episodes, yet that number hardly begins to express the game’s real reach. Most people who acquired the free episode were content with it alone, or couldn’t afford to buy the other installments, or had friends who had bought them already and were happy to share. It thus seems reasonable to assume that the total number of Wolfenstein 3D players reached well into seven digits, putting the game’s exposure on a par with The 7th Guest, the boxed industry’s biggest hit of 1993, the game generally agreed to have put CD-ROM on the map. And yet Wolfenstein 3D‘s impact would prove even more earthshaking than that of The 7th Guest in the long run.
One telling sign of its influence — and of the way that it was just a fundamentally different type of game than The 7th Guest, that stately multimedia showpiece — is the modding scene that sprang up around it. The game’s levels were stored in a rather easily decipherable format: the “WAD” file, standing for “Where’s All the Data?” Enterprising hackers were soon writing and distributing their own level editors, along with custom levels. (The most popular of them all filled the corridors of the Nazi headquarters with facsimiles of the sickly sweet, thuddingly unclever, unbelievably grating children’s-television character Barney the Dinosaur and let you take out your frustrations with an automatic weapon.) The id boys debated fiercely among themselves whether they should crack down on the modders, but John Carmack, who had read Steven Levy’s landmark book Hackers at an impressionable age and thoroughly absorbed its heroes’ ethos of openness and transparency, insisted that people be allowed to do whatever they wished with his creation. And when Carmack put his foot down, he always got his way; at the end of the day, he was the one irreplaceable member of the id collective, and every one of the others knew it.
With Wolfenstein 3D‘s popularity soaring, the id boys started eyeing the territory of the boxed publishers greedily. They struck a deal with a company called FormGen to release a seventh, lengthier installment of the game exclusively as a boxed retail product; it appeared under the name of Spear of Destiny in September of 1992. Thus readers of magazines like Computer Gaming World could scratch their heads over two separate luridly violent full-page advertisements for Wolfenstein 3D games, each with a different publisher’s name at the bottom. Spear of Destiny sold at least 100,000 copies at retail, both to hardcore Wolfenstein 3D addicts who couldn’t get enough and to many others, isolated from the typical means of shareware distribution, who came upon the game for the first time in this form.
Even Nintendo came calling with hat in hand, just a couple of years after summarily rejecting id’s offer to make a version of Super Mario Bros. 3 that ran on computers. The id boys now heeded Nintendo’s plea to port Wolfenstein 3D to the new Super Nintendo Entertainment System, whilst also grudgingly agreeing to abide by the dictates of Nintendo’s infamously strict censors. They had no idea what they had signed up for. Before they were through, Nintendo demanded that they replace blood with sweat, guard dogs with mutant rats, and Adolf Hitler, the game’s inevitable final boss, with a generic villain named the “Staatmeister.” They hated this bowdlerization with a passion, but, having agreed to do the port, they duly saw it through, muttering “Never again!” to themselves all the while. And indeed, when they were finished they took a mutual vow never to work with Nintendo again. Who needed them? The world was id’s oyster.
By now, 1992 was drawing to a close, and they all felt it was high time that they moved on to the next new thing. For everyone at id, and most especially John Carmack, was beginning to look upon Wolfenstein 3D with a decidedly jaundiced eye.
The dirty little secret that was occluded by Wolfenstein 3D‘s immense success was that it wasn’t all that great a game once it was stripped of its novelty value. Its engine was just too basic to allow for compelling level design. You glided through its corridors as if you were on a branching tram line running past a series of fairground shooting galleries, trying to shoot the Nazis who popped up before they could shoot you. The lack of any sort of in-game map meant that you didn’t even know where you were most of the time; you just kept moving around shooting Nazis until you stumbled upon the elevator to the next level. Anyone who made it through seven episodes of this — and make no mistake, there were plenty of players who did — either had an awful lot of aggression to vent or really, really loved the unprecedented look and style of the game. The levels were even boring for their designers. John Romero:
Tom [Hall] and I [designed] levels [for Wolfenstein 3D] fast. Making those levels was the most boring shit ever because they were so simple. Tom was so bored; I kept on bugging him to do it. I told him about Scott Miller’s 300ZX and George Broussard’s Acura NSX. We needed cool cars too! Whenever he got distracted, I’d tell him, “Dude, NSX! NSX!”
Tom Hall had it doubly hard. The fact was, the ultra-violence of Wolfenstein 3D just wasn’t really his thing. He preferred worlds of candy-apple red, not bloody scarlet; of precocious kids and cuddly robots, not rabid vigilantes and sadistic Nazis. Still, he was nothing if not a team player. John Romero and Adrian Carmack had gone along with him for Commander Keen, so it was only fair that he humored them with Wolfenstein 3D. But now, he thought, all of that business was finally over, and they could all start thinking about making a third Commander Keen trilogy.
Poor Tom. It took a sweetly naïve nature like his to believe that the other id boys would be willing to go back to the innocent fun of their Nintendo pastiches. Wolfenstein 3D was a different beast entirely than Commander Keen. It wasn’t remarkable just for being as good as something someone else had already done; it was like nothing anyone had ever done before. And they owned this new thing, had it all to themselves. Hall’s third Commander Keen trilogy just wasn’t in the cards — not even when he offered to do it in 3D, using an updated version of the Wolfenstein 3D engine. Cute and whimsical was id’s yesterday; gritty and bloody was their today and, if they had anything to say about it, their tomorrow as well.
Digging into their less-than-bulging bag of pop-culture reference points, the id boys pulled out the Alien film franchise. What a 3D game those movies would make! Running through a labyrinth of claustrophobic corridors, shooting aliens… that would be amazing! On further reflection, though, no one wanted the hassle that would come with trying to live up to an official license, even assuming such a thing was possible; id was still an underground insurgency at heart, bereft of lawyers and Hollywood contacts. Their thinking moved toward creating a similar effect via a different story line.
The id boys had a long-running tabletop Dungeon & Dragons campaign involving demons who spilled over from their infernal plane of existence into the so-called “Prime Material Plane” of everyday fantasy. What if they did something like that, only in a science-fiction context? Demons in space! It would be perfect! It was actually John Carmack, normally the id boy least engaged by these sorts of discussions, who proposed the name. In a scene from the 1986 Martin Scorsese movie The Color of Money, a young pool shark played by Tom Cruise struts into a bar carrying what looks like a clarinet case. “What you got in there?” asks his eventual patsy with an intimidating scowl. As our hero opens the case to reveal his pool cue, he flashes a 100-kilowatt Tom Cruise smile and says a single word: “Doom.”
Once again, Tom Hall tried to be supportive and make the best of it. He still held the official role of world-builder for id’s fictions. So, he went to work for some weeks, emerging at last with the most comprehensive design document which anyone at id had ever written, appropriately entitled The DOOM Bible. It offered plenty of opportunity for gunplay, but it also told an earnest story, in which you, as an astronaut trapped aboard a space station under assault by mysterious aliens, gradually learned to your horror that they were literal demons out of Hell, escaping into our dimension through a rift in the fabric of space-time. It was full of goals to advance and problems to solve beyond that of mowing down hordes of monsters, with a plot that evolved as you played. The history of gaming would have been markedly different, at least in the short term, if the other id boys had been interested in pursuing Hall’s path of complex storytelling within a richly simulated embodied virtual reality.
As it was, though, Hall’s ambitions landed with a resounding thud. Granted, there were all sorts of valid practical reasons for his friends to be skeptical. It was true enough that to go from the pseudo-3D engine of Wolfenstein 3D to one capable of supporting the type of complex puzzles and situations envisioned by Hall, and to get it all to run at an acceptable speed on everyday hardware, might be an insurmountable challenge even for a wizard like John Carmack. And yet the fact remains that the problem was at least as much one of motivation as one of technology. The other id boys just didn’t care about the sort of things that had Tom Hall so juiced. It again came down to John Carmack, normally the least articulate member of the group, to articulate their objections. “Story in a game,” he said, “is like story in a porn movie. It’s expected to be there, but it’s not that important.”
Tom Hall held out for several more months, but he just couldn’t convince himself to get fully onboard with the game his friends wanted to make. His relationship with the others went from bad to worse, until finally, in August of 1993, the others asked him to leave: “Obviously this isn’t working out.” By that time, DOOM was easily the most hotly anticipated game in the world, and nobody cared that it wouldn’t have a complicated story. “DOOM means two things,” said John Carmack. “Demons and shotguns!” And most of its fans wouldn’t have it any other way, then or now.
Making DOOM wound up requiring more than three times as many man-hours as anything the id boys had ever done before. It absorbed their every waking hour from January of 1993 to December of that year. Early on in that period, they decided that they wouldn’t be publishing it through Apogee. Cracks in the relationship between the id boys and Scott Miller had started forming around the latter’s business practices, which were scrupulously honest but also chaotic in that way dismayingly typical of a fast-growing business helmed by a first-time entrepreneur. Reports kept reaching id of people who wanted to buy Wolfenstein 3D, but couldn’t get through on the phone, or who managed to give Apogee their order only to have it never fulfilled.
But those complaints were perhaps just a convenient excuse. The reality was that the id boys just didn’t feel that they needed Apogee anymore. They had huge name recognition of their own now and plenty of money coming in to spend on advertising and promotion, and they could upload their new game to the major online services just as easily as Scott Miller could. Why keep giving him half of their money? Miller, for his part, handled the loss of his cash cow with graceful aplomb. He saw it as just business, nothing personal. “I would have done the same thing in their shoes,” he would frequently say in later interviews. He even hired Tom Hall to work at Apogee after the id boys cast him adrift in the foreign environs of Dallas.
Jay Wilbur now stepped into Miller’s old role for id. He prowled the commercial online services, the major bulletin-board systems, and the early Internet for hours each day, stoking the flames of anticipation here, answering questions there.
And there were lots of questions, for DOOM was actually about a bit more than demons and shotguns: it was also about technology. Whatever else it might become, DOOM was to be a showcase for the latest engine from John Carmack, a young man who was swiftly making a name for himself as the best game programmer in the world. With DOOM, he allowed himself to set the floor considerably higher in terms of system requirements than he had for Wolfenstein 3D.
System requirements have always been a moving target for any game developer. Push too hard, and you may end up releasing a game that almost no one can play; stay too conservative, and you may release something that looks like yesterday’s news. Striking precisely the right point on this continuum requires knowing your customers. The Apogee shareware demographic didn’t typically have cutting-edge computers; they tended to be younger and a bit less affluent than those buying the big boxed games. Thus id had made it possible to run Wolfenstein 3D on a two-generations-behind 80286-based machine with just 640 K of memory. The marked limitations of its pseudo-3D engine sprang as much from the limitations of such hardware as it did from John Carmack’s philosophy that, any time it came down to a contest between fidelity to the real world and speed, the latter should win.
He still held to that philosophy as firmly as ever when he moved on to DOOM, but the slow progression of the market’s trailing edge did give him more to work with: he designed DOOM for at least an 80386-based computer — 80486 recommended — with at least 4 MB of memory. He was able to ignore that bane of a generation of programmers, MS-DOS’s inability to seamlessly address memory beyond 640 K, by using a relatively new piece of software technology called a “DOS extender,” which built upon Microsoft’s recent memory-management innovations for their MS-DOS-hosted versions of Windows. DOS/4GW was included in the latest versions of what had heretofore been something of an also-ran in the compiler sweepstakes: the C compiler made by a small Canadian company known as Watcom. Carmack chose the Watcom compiler because of DOS/4GW; DOOM would quite literally have been impossible without it. In the aftermath of DOOM‘s prominent use of it, Watcom’s would become the C compiler of choice for game development, right through the remaining years of the MS-DOS-gaming era.
Thanks not only to these new affordances but also — most of all, really — to John Carmack’s continuing evolution as a programmer, the DOOM engine advanced beyond that of Wolfenstein 3D in several important ways. Ironically, his work on the detested censored version of Wolfenstein 3D for the Super NES, a platform designed with 2D sprite-based games in mind rather than 3D graphics, had led him to discover a lightning-fast new way of sorting through visible surfaces, known as binary space partitioning, in a doctoral thesis by one Bruce Naylor. It had a well-nigh revelatory effect on the new engine’s capabilities.
That said, the new engine did remain caught, like its predecessor, in a liminal space between 2D and true 3D; it was just that it moved significantly further on the continuum toward the latter. No longer must everything and everyone exist on the same flat horizontal plane; you could now climb stairs and walk onto desks and daises. And walls must no longer all be at right angles to one another, meaning the world needed no longer resemble one of those steel-ball mazes children used to play with.
On the other hand, walls must still all be exactly vertical, and floors and ceilings must all be exactly horizontal; DOOM allowed stairs but not hills or ramps. These restrictions made it possible to map textures onto the environment without the ugly discontinuities that had plagued Blue Sky Productions’s earlier but more “honest” 3D game Ultima Underworld. DOOM makes such a useful study in game engineering because it so vividly illustrates that faking it convincingly for the sake of the player is better than simulating things which delight only the programmer of the virtual world. Its engine is perfect for the game it wants to be.
The value of the simple addition of height to the equation was revealed subtly — admittedly not an adverb often associated with DOOM! — as soon as you started the game. Instead of gliding smoothly about like a tram, your view now bobbed with uncanny verisimilitude as you ran about. You might never consciously notice the effect, but it made a huge difference to your feeling of really being in the world; if you tried to go back to Wolfenstein 3D after playing DOOM, you immediately had the feeling that something was somehow off.
But the introduction of varying height was most important for what it meant in terms of the game’s tactical possibilities. Now monsters could stand on balconies and shoot fireballs down at you, or you could do the same to them. Instead of a straightforward shooting gallery, the world of DOOM became a devious place of traps and ambushes. Carmack’s latest engine also supported variable levels of lighting for the first time, which opened up a whole new realm of both dramatic and tactical possibility in itself; entering an unexplored pitch-dark room could be, to say the least, an intimidating prospect.
In addition, the new engine dramatically improved upon the nearly non-existent degree of physics simulation in Wolfenstein 3D. Weight and momentum were implemented; even bullets were simulated as physical objects in the world. A stereo soundscape was implemented as well; in addition to being unnerving as all get-out, it could become another vital tactical tool. Meanwhile the artificial intelligence of the monsters, while still fairly rudimentary, advanced significantly over that of Wolfenstein 3D. It was even possible to lure two monsters into fighting each other instead of you.
John Carmack also added a modicum of support for doing things other than killing monsters, although to nowhere near the degree once envisioned by Tom Hall. The engine could be used to present simple set-piece interactions, such as locked doors and keys, switches and levers for manipulating parts of the environment: platforms could move up and down, bridges could extend and retract. And in recognition of this added level of complexity, which could suddenly make the details of the geography and your precise position within it truly relevant, the engine offered a well-done auto-map for keeping track of those things.
Of course, none of these new affordances would matter without level designs that took advantage of them. The original plan was for Tom Hall and John Romero to create the levels. But, as we’ve seen, Hall just couldn’t seem to hit the mark that the id boys were aiming for. After finally dismissing him, they realized that Romero still needed help to shoulder the design burden. It arrived from a most unlikely source — from a fellow far removed from the rest of the id boys in age, experience, and temperament.
Sandy Petersen was already a cult hero in certain circles for having created a tabletop RPG called Call of Cthulhu in 1981. Based on the works of the horror writer H.P. Lovecraft, it was the first RPG ever to convincingly transcend the kill-monsters-to-level-up-so-you-can-kill-bigger-monsters dynamic of Dungeons & Dragons. But Call of Cthulhu remained a cult game even when the tabletop-RPG boom was at its height, and by the early 1990s Petersen was serving as an in-house design consultant at the computer-game publisher MicroProse. Unhappy in this role, he sent his résumé to the upstart id.
The résumé was greeted with considerable skepticism. It’s doubtful whether any of the id boys fully grasped the significance of Petersen’s achievement with Call of Cthulhu; while they were hardcore tabletop-RPG players, they were perfectly happy with the traditional power-gaming approach of Dungeons & Dragons, thank you very much. Still, the résumé was more impressive than any other they had received, and they did urgently need a level designer… they called him in for an interview.
Their initial skepticism wasn’t lessened by the man himself. Petersen was pudgy and balding, looking even older than his already ancient 38 years, coming across rather like a genial university professor. And he was a devout Mormon to boot, washed up among this tribe of atheists and nihilists. Surely it could never work out.
Nevertheless, they decided to grant him the favor of a test before they rejected him; he had, after all, flown all the way from Baltimore to Dallas just to meet with them. They gave him a brief introduction to the DOOM engine and its level editor, and asked him to throw something together for them. Within minutes, Petersen produced a cunningly dramatic trap room, featuring lights that suddenly winked out when the player entered and a demon waiting in ambush behind a hidden door. He was hired.
Romero and Petersen proved to complement each other very well, with individual design aesthetics that reflected their personalities. Romero favored straight-up carnage — the more demon blood the better — while Petersen evinced a subtler, more cerebral approach in levels that could almost have a puzzle-like feel, where charging in with shotgun blazing was usually not the best tactic. Together the two approaches gave the game a nice balance.
Indeed, superb level design became DOOM‘s secret weapon, one that has allowed it to remain relevant to this day, when its degree of gore and violence seems humdrum, its pixels look as big as houses, and the limitations of its engine seem downright absurd. (You can’t even look up or down, for Pete’s sake. Nor is there a “jump” command, meaning that your brawny super-soldier can be stopped in his tracks by an inconveniently high curb.)
It’s disarmingly easy to underestimate DOOM today on your first encounter with it, simply because its visual aesthetic seems so tossed-off, so hopelessly juvenile; it’s the same crude mixture of action movies, heavy-metal album covers, and affected adolescent nihilism that defined the underground game-cracking scene of the 1980s. And yet behind it all is a game design that oozes as much thought and care as it does blood. These levels were obsessed over by their designers, and then, just as importantly, extensively critiqued by the other id boys and their immediate hangers-on, who weren’t inclined to pull their punches. Whatever your opinion of DOOM as a whole and/or the changes it wrought to the culture of gaming — I for one have thoroughly mixed feelings at best on both of those subjects — one cannot deny that it’s a veritable clinic of clever level design. In this sense, it still offers lessons for today’s game developers, whether they happen to be working inside or outside of the genre it came to define.
DOOM‘s other, not-so-secret weapon went by the name of “deathmatch.”
There had been significant experimentation with networked gaming on personal computers in the past: the legendary designer Dani Bunten Berry had spent the last half-decade making action-strategy games that were primarily or exclusively intended to be played by two humans connected via modem; Peter Molyneux’s “god game” Populous and its sequels had also allowed two players to compete on linked computers, as had a fair number of others. But computer-to-computer multiplayer-only games never sold very well, and most games that had networked multiplayer as an option seldom saw it used. Most people in those days didn’t even own modems; most computers were islands unto themselves.
By 1993, however, the isolationist mode of computing was slowly being nibbled away at. Not only was the World Wide Web on the verge of bursting into the cultural consciousness, but many offices and campuses were already networked internally, mostly using the systems of a company known as Novell. In fact, the id boys had just such a system in their Dallas office. When John Carmack told John Romero many months into the development of DOOM that multiplayer was feasible, the latter’s level of excitement was noteworthy even for him: “If we can get this done, this is going to be the fucking coolest game that the planet Earth has ever fucking seen in its entire history.” And it turned out that they could get it done because John Carmack was a programming genius.
While Carmack also implemented support for a modem connection or a direct computer-to-computer cable, it was under Novell’s IPX networking protocol that multiplayer DOOM really shined. Here you had a connection that was rock-solid and lightning-fast — and, best of all, here you could have up to four players in the same world instead of just two. You could tackle the single-player game as a team if you wanted to, but the id boys all agreed that deathmatch — all-out player-versus-player anarchy — was where the real fun lived. It made DOOM into more of a sport than a conventional computer game, something you could literally play forever. Soon the corridors at id were echoing with cries of “Suck it down!” as everyone engaged in frenzied online free-for-alls. Deathmatch was, in the diction of the id boys, “awesome.” It wasn’t just an improvement on what Wolfenstein 3D had done; it was something fundamentally different from it, something that was genuinely new under the sun. “This is the shit!” chortled Romero, and for once it sounded like an understatement.
The excitement over DOOM had reached a fever pitch by the fall of 1993. Some people seemed on the verge of a complete emotional meltdown, and launched into overwrought tirades every time Jay Wilbur had to push the release date back a bit more; people wrote poetry about the big day soon to come (“The Night Before DOOM“), and rang id’s offices at all hours of the day and night like junkies begging for a fix.
Even fuddy-duddy old Computer Gaming World stopped by the id offices to write up a two-page preview. This time out, no reservations whatsoever about the violence were expressed, much less any of the full-fledged hand-wringing that had been seen earlier from editor Johnny Wilson. Far from giving in to the gaming establishment, the id boys were, slowly but surely, remaking it in their own image.
At last, id announced that the free first episode of DOOM would go up at the stroke of midnight on December 10, 1993, on, of all places, the file server belonging to the University of Wisconsin–Parkside. When the id boys tried to log on to do the upload, so many users were already online waiting for the file to appear that they couldn’t get in; they had to call the university’s system administrator and have him kick everyone else off. Then, once the file did appear, the server promptly crashed under the load of 10,000 people, all trying to get DOOM at once on a system that expected no more than 175 users at a time. The administrator rebooted it; it crashed again. They would have a hard go of things at the modest small-town university for quite some time to come.
Legend had it that when Don Woods first uploaded his and Will Crowthers’s game Adventure in 1977, all work in the field of data processing stopped for a week while everyone tried to solve it. Now, not quite seventeen years later, something similar happened in the case of DOOM, arguably the most important computer game to appear since Adventure. The id boys had joked in an early press release that they expected DOOM to become “the number-one cause of decreased productivity in businesses around the world.” Even they were surprised by the extent to which that prediction came true.
Network administrators all over the world had to contend with this new phenomenon known as deathmatch. John Carmack had had no experience with network programming before DOOM, and in his naïveté had used a transmission method known as a broadcast packet that forced every computer on the network, whether it was running DOOM or not, to stop and analyze every packet which every DOOM-playing computer generated. As reports of the chaos that resulted poured in, Carmack scrambled to code an update which would use machine-to-machine packets instead.
In the meantime, DOOM brought entire information-technology infrastructures to their knees. Intel banned the game; high-school and university computers labs hardly knew what had hit them. A sign posted at Carnegie Mellon University before the day of release was even over was typical: “Since today’s release of DOOM, we have discovered [that the game is] bringing the campus network to a halt. Computing Services asks that all DOOM players please do not play DOOM in network mode. Use of DOOM in network mode causes serious degradation of performance for the players’ network, and during this time of finals network use is already at its peak. We may be forced to disconnect the PCs of those who are playing the game in network mode. Again, please do not play DOOM in network mode.” One clever system administrator at the University of Louisville created a program to search the hard drives of all machines on the network for the game, and delete it wherever it was found. All to no avail: DOOM was unstoppable.
But in these final months of the mostly-unconnected era of of personal computing — the World Wide Web would begin to hit big over the course of 1994 — a game still needed to reach those without modems or network cards in their computers in order to become a hit on the scale that id envisioned for DOOM. Jay Wilbur, displaying a wily marketing genius that went Scott Miller one better, decided that absolutely everyone should be allowed to distribute the first episode of DOOM on disk, charging whatever they could get for it: “We don’t care if you make money off this shareware demo. Move it! Move it in mass quantities.” For distribution, Wilbur realized, was the key to success. There are many ways to frame the story of DOOM, but certainly one of them is a story of guerrilla marketing at its finest.
The incentives for distribution were massive. If a little mom-and-pop operation in, say, far-off Australia could become the first to stick that episode onto disks, stick those disks in a box, and get the box onto store shelves, they could make a killing, free and clear. DOOM became omnipresent, inescapable all over the world. When you logged into CompuServe, there was DOOM; when you wandered into your local software store, there was DOOM again, possibly in several different forms of packaging; when you popped in the disk or CD that came with your favorite gaming magazine, there it was yet again. The traditional industry was utterly gobsmacked by this virulent weed of a game.
As with Wolfenstein 3D, a large majority of the people who acquired the first episode of DOOM in one way or another were perfectly satisfied with its eight big levels and unlimited deathmatch play; plenty of others doubtless never bothered to read the fine print, never even realized that more DOOM was on offer if they called 1-800-IDGAMES with their credit card in hand. And then, of course, there was the ever-present specter of piracy; nothing whatsoever stopped buyers of the paid episodes from sharing them with all of their DOOM-loving friends. By some estimates, the conversion rate from the free to the paid episodes was as low as 1 percent. Nevertheless, it was enough to make the id boys very, very rich young men.
Sometimes $100,000 worth of orders would roll in on a single day. John Carmack and John Romero each went out and bought a new Ferrari Testarossa; now it was the turn of Scott Miller and George Broussard to look on the id boys’ cars with envy. Glossy magazines, newspapers, and television news programs all begged to visit the id offices, where they wondered over the cars in the parking lot and the unkempt young men inside screaming the most horrid scatological and sexual insults at one another as they played deathmatch. If nothing else, the id boys were certainly a colorful story.
Indeed, the id story is as close as gaming ever came to fulfilling one of its most longstanding dreams: that of game developers as rock stars, as first articulated by Trip Hawkins in 1983 upon his founding of Electronic Arts. Yet if Hawkins’s initial stable of developers, so carefully posed in black and white in EA’s iconic early advertisements, resembled an artsy post-punk band — the interactive version of Talking Heads — the id boys were meat-and-potatoes heavy metal for the masses — Metallica at their Black Album peak. John Romero, the id boy who most looked the part of rock star, particularly reveled in the odd sort of obsequious hero worship that marks certain corners of gamer culture. He almost visibly swelled with pride every time a group of his minions started chanting “We’re not worthy!” and literally bowed down in his presence, and wore his “DOOM: Wrote It!” tee-shirt until the print peeled off.
The impact DOOM was having on the industry had become undeniable by the time of the Summer Consumer Electronics Show in June of 1994. Here everyone seemed to want in on id’s action. The phrase “first-person shooter” had yet to be invented, so the many soon-to-be-released games of the type were commonly referred to as “DOOM clones” — or, as Computer Gaming World preferred, “DOOM toos.” The same magazine, still seeming just a trifle ambivalent about it all, called it the “3D action fad.” But this was no fad; these games were here to stay. The boxed publishers who had scoffed at the shareware scene a year or two before were now all scrambling to follow id’s lead. LucasArts previewed a DOOM clone set in the Star Wars universe; SSI, previously known for their complicated strategic war games and licensed Dungeons & Dragons CRPGs, dipped a toe into these very different waters with something called CyClones.
And then, inevitably, there was id’s own DOOM II: Hell on Earth. As a piece of game design, it evinced no sign of the dreaded sophomore slump that afflicts so many rock groups — this even though it used the exact same engine as its predecessor, and even though John Romero, id’s rock-star-in-chief, was increasingly busy with extracurriculars and contributed only a handful of levels. His slack was largely taken up by one American McGee, the latest scruffy rebel to join the id boys, a 21-year-old former auto mechanic who had suffered through an even more hardscrabble upbringing than the two Johns. After beginning at id as a tester, he had gradually revealed an uncanny talent for making levels that combined the intricacy of Sandy Petersen’s with the gung-ho flair of John Romero’s. Now, he joined Petersen and, more intermittently, Romero to create a game that was if anything even more devious than its predecessor. The id boys had grown cockier than ever, but they could still back it up.
They were approached by a New York City wheeler-and-dealer named Ron Chaimowitz who wanted to publish DOOM II exclusively to retail. His was not an established name in the gaming world; he had come of age in the music industry, where he had broken big acts like Gloria Estefan and Julio Iglesias during the previous decade, and he was now publishing Jane Fonda’s workout videos through a company called GoodTimes Entertainment. But he had distribution connections — and, as Jay Wilbur has so recently proved, distribution often means everything. GoodTimes sold millions of videotapes through Wal-Mart, the exploding epicenter of heartland retail, and Chaimowitz promised that the new software label he had in mind would be able to leverage those connections. He further promised to spend $2 million on advertising. He would prove as good as his word in both respects. The new GT Interactive manufactured an extraordinary 600,000 copies of DOOM II prior to its release, marking by far the largest initial production run in the history of computer gaming to date.
In marked contrast to the simple uploading of the first episode of the original DOOM, DOOM II was launched with all the pomp and circumstance that a $2 million promotional budget could provide. A party to commemorate the event took place on October 10, 1994, at a hip Gothic night club in New York City which had been re-decorated in a predictably gory manner. The party even came complete with protesters against the game’s violence, to add that delicious note of controversy that any group of rock stars worth their salt requires.
At the party, a fellow named Bob Huntley, owner of a small Houston software company, foisted a disk on John Romero containing “The Dial-Up Wide-Area Network Games Operation,” or “DWANGO.” Using it, you could dial into Huntley’s Houston server at any time to play a pick-up game of four-player DOOM deathmatch with strangers who might happen to be on the other side of the world. Romero expressed his love for the concept in his trademark profane logorrhea: “I like staying up late and I want to play people whenever the fuck I want to and I don’t want to have to wake up my buddy at three in the morning and go, ‘Hey, uh, you wanna get your skull cracked?’ This is the thing that you can dial into and just play!” He convinced the other id boys to give DWANGO their official endorsement, and the service went live within weeks. For just $8.96 per month, you could now deathmatch any time you wanted. And thus another indelible piece of modern gaming culture, as well as a milestone in the cultural history of the Internet, fell into place.
DOOM was becoming not just a way of gaming but a way of life, one that left little space in the hearts of its most committed adherents for anything else. Some say that gaming became better after DOOM, some that it became worse. One thing that everyone can agree on, however, is that it changed; it’s by no means unreasonable to divide the entire history of computer gaming into pre-DOOM and post-DOOM eras. Next time, then, in the concluding article of this series, we’ll do our best to come to terms with that seismic shift.
(Sources: the books Masters of Doom by David Kushner, Game Engine Black Book: Wolfenstein 3D and Game Engine Black Book: DOOM by Fabien Sanglard, and Principles of Three-Dimensional Computer Animation by Michael O’Rourke; Retro Gamer 75; Game Developer premiere issue and issues of June 1994 and February/March 1995; Computer Gaming World of July 1993, March 1994, July 1994, August 1994, September 1994. Online sources include “Apogee: Where Wolfenstein Got Its Start” by Chris Plante at Polygon, “Rocket Jump: Quake and the Golden Era of First-Person Shooters” by David L. Craddock at Shack News, Benj Edwards’s interview with Scott Miller for Gamasutra, Jeremy Peels’s interview with John Romero for PC Games N, and Jay Wilbur’s old Usenet posts, which can now be accessed via Google Groups. And a special thanks to Alex Sarosi, better known in our comment threads as Lt. Nitpicker, for pointing out to me how important Jay Wilbur’s anything-goes approach to distribution of the free episode of DOOM was to the game’s success.
The original Doom episodes and Doom II are available as digital purchases on GOG.com.)
June 5, 2020 at 6:08 pm
I’m not sure what your source is for the claim that walls-with-windows in Doom aren’t real walls but rather free-standing objects, but it’s not true. Walls with windows in Doom are just walls with a hole in them, much like doorways between two spaces, or corridors between rooms. Even the partially transparent pseudo-walls in Doom (e.g. at the end of E1M1) are part of the BSP geometry, not free-standing objects.
Indeed, Doom is notable for being something of the opposite: where openable doors in most 3D games are free-standing objects, the moving doors in Doom are BSP geometry, indistinguishable from elevators and rooms with collapsing ceilings–they’re just door-sized rooms with collapsing ceilings.
(Source: I was a 3D graphics programmer in the game industry from 1994-2001. I was paid to know this stuff.)
June 5, 2020 at 6:24 pm
I was extrapolating from what I read in The Doom Black Book, but evidently mistakenly. The error was certainly mine. Thanks!
June 5, 2020 at 6:25 pm
To back this up – a window is just another region of the map with the floor height set to the windowsill height and the ceiling height set to the window head jamb height.
(Source – I designed maps for Doom and contributed to Final Doom).
June 6, 2020 at 5:17 pm
Steve is right, it’s not accurate to say a window is a hole in the wall either. There aren’t really walls in the doom engine, just floor and ceiling heights for areas of the map. A wall is created where a section of the maps floor height is higher than it’s neighboring sections floor height. A solid wall block is created by setting that sections floor and ceiling height to the same value.
It’s both simple, economical and versatile, as so many of John Cormac’s designs are.
June 7, 2020 at 11:42 pm
This is also why doors in Doom only open vertically, in contrast to the horizontal doors of Wolfenstein 3-D: sectors in Doom can have changing ceiling and floor heights, but their (x,y) positions must remain fixed to avoid breaking the BSP tree. (This is also why Wolf 3-D‘s pushwalls disappeared from Doom and the recreated Wolf levels in Doom II replaced them with standard Doom-style hidden doors.)
There’s actually unfinished code in the engine for horizontally-sliding doors, implemented as an animated texture applied to a linedef (essentially, a sector boundary) that’s flagged as impassable until the animated texture is “open,” at which point the impassable flag is switched off. I assume these didn’t make it into the actual game because 1) the door’s visual representation is nothing more than a texture map, so it has no depth and doesn’t fit in very well with the standard vertical doors, and 2) the door isn’t an actual part of the geometry, so it can be fired through as though it weren’t even there, and enemies can see right through it. Strife (one of the last commercial games using the Doom engine) fixed up the horizontal-door code and got around the second problem by placing a ceiling on the linedef that instantly rises when the door is opened and instantly lowers when it’s closed.
June 19, 2020 at 3:14 pm
Hexen, the most *advanced* game on the Doom engine, added PolyObjects, which permitted proper moving level geometry without the sliding door hack. However this was sharply limited to retain BSP integrity. It wouldn’t be until a later release of the GZDoom engine that all the restrictions would be removed.
Hexen is really a great technical accomplishment, in terms of its pushing of the engine. Such a pity there wasn’t a better game there…
June 5, 2020 at 6:11 pm
Typo: “full-fledged hang-wringing”
June 5, 2020 at 6:24 pm
June 5, 2020 at 6:47 pm
“Deathmatch” normally refers to a competition for most kills, not a last-man-standing contest with a fixed number of lives. Is it different in Doom? Looking it up it doesn’t appear to be…
Huh, interesting. Shamus Young remarks here that there was a trend in the 90s of giving game file formats and data structures names like “wad”, “blob”, and “lump” (playing off the existing term “binary blob” to some extent, I would imagine). I’d assumed that “wad” was just an instance of this, but it’s interesting if it was an acronym that was later reinterpreted that way.
June 5, 2020 at 6:57 pm
The WAD was actually named by Tom Hall. It’s always been described as an acronym, but I do suspect that the crude sexual connotation — “shoot your wad” — wasn’t lost on the id boys and probably pleased them.
June 5, 2020 at 8:57 pm
IIRC, the story goes that that the WAD was named by Tom when Carmack asked what to call a bunch of lumps (I think that was in the Doom Postmortem?). The acronym came after.
According to John Romero (https://rome.ro/news/2016/12/10/happy-23rd-birthday-doom), the WADLINK tool that was used to build the wads did in fact have a shootwad command, so it definitely wasn’t lost on them.
IIRC, the term “WAD” only started being used in Doom’s development. While Wolf3D had WADs conceptually, they weren’t called that. They were also encrypted: Of course, as a result of Carmack’s “open game” decision, the Doom WAD format (as well as the Doom level format itself) was publically documented on Day 1.
Peter De Wachter
June 5, 2020 at 9:05 pm
I think you miss the point somewhat about the WAD system. With Wolfenstein, the only way to mod it was to edit its data files and then distribute those modified files. This limited the spread of those mods, as it was generally considered piracy.
What Carmack designed for Doom, and what was truly novel, was a system that allowed modders to create ‘patch WADs’, that contained just the new levels and art. And this made mass distribution of those mods possible. So wherever you got your copy of Doom from, you’d soon find lots of custom WADs plus the tools to make your own.
June 5, 2020 at 11:40 pm
Custom WADs were essentially the birth of PC game modding as something that developers would actually encourage. And the fact that id were so eager to provide fans with the tools and information they needed (even going so far as a full source release) is what has kept Doom relevant for so long. I can state with confidence that someone probably released a really high-quality set of levels for Doom this week. There are very few games as old as that for which I can say the same. Maybe Thief (as the years go on they’re comparatively closer together) and Quake, but that’s about it. Save perhaps the Z-Machine, which technically is not a game.
June 6, 2020 at 5:02 pm
And not only levels. To this day all kinds of mods are still developed and maintained, try Brutal Doom if you haven’t, it enhances so much the game and rises the level of violence:
In Spain there was a very infamous mod that changed all the sounds with the antics of Chiquito de la calzada, a very famous spanish comedian of the time:
June 6, 2020 at 8:02 pm
Not a big fan of Brutal Doom. Aside from the over the top spectacle there… isn’t a lot there. Guncaster, Psychic, Hideous Destructor, Mister Friendly, and others have done much more interesting things.
And the level design side of the Doom community has been killing it for a while. Ancient Aliens is sheer brilliance, and REKKR is probably the single most impressive 100% vanilla-compatible effort I’ve seen. And TCs like Simon’s Destiny, Sonic Robo Blast 2, Doom: The Golden Souls, The Adventures of Square, Inquisitor, and others have pushed the limits of the engine or simply added fun mechanics that make them worthy of attention.
June 7, 2020 at 11:43 am
Just watched the video. There were certainly some times when you really were ‘knee deep in the dead’ there!
June 5, 2020 at 7:02 pm
Not sure what connects ShadowCaster to SSI – your own link says it was developed by Raven and published by Origin.
June 5, 2020 at 7:19 pm
June 5, 2020 at 7:27 pm
I have always maintained that you can divide computer game history into BD and AD, before and after Doom. It really is one of the most earth-shaking video games ever created.
Just a couple of minor notes on Ron Chaimowitz and GT Interactive. First, Ron actually did have a little known foray into video games before GT: when he ran the Latin American division of CBS Records in the early 1980s, he was responsible for distributing Activision games, for which CBS had certain international distribution rights, in the region.
Second, while Chaimowitz was the CEO of GT Interactive, it was not his company, nor was its videocassette parent. They were established and owned by the Cayre Brothers, with whom Ron had a long history in the music business, and he served at their pleasure.
June 5, 2020 at 7:47 pm
June 5, 2020 at 8:02 pm
> broadcast package
Probably should be ‘packet’.
June 8, 2020 at 5:59 am
I agree. Jimmy?
June 8, 2020 at 6:07 am
Sorry, missed that one. Thanks, Sam!
June 5, 2020 at 8:12 pm
The early plans for an “Aliens game” and Tom Hall’s hopes for more elaborate gameplay turned my thoughts towards self-indulgent personal memories of Bungie Software’s “Marathon,” which might have kept at least a few Macintosh users from biting the DOS bullet (although I can’t ignore Doom eventually being ported). Still, I understand that anyone who makes a point of “remembering Marathon” is outnumbered by those who “remember Doom.” (As another personal footnote, I looked up “Watcom” and nodded briefly at confirmation it had emerged from the University of Waterloo’s computer science program…)
June 5, 2020 at 11:49 pm
Marathon has a lot going for it, but on pure game design terms it just isn’t as solid as Doom. It feels rough around the edges—some levels are baffling, or just flat-out cruel, mechanics aren’t always perfectly explained, and the physics don’t feel as good. And none of the guns are all that satisfying…
This would be smoothed out quite a bit in Marathon 2, and both of those games did a lot of interesting things that Doom didn’t (friendly NPCs, alt-fires, a more sophisticated physics model, underwater sections in Marathon 2, and a story that I really really like), but they never quite clicked with me because that gameplay always felt off.
June 7, 2020 at 1:05 am
Watcom was a spinoff founded by University of Waterloo profs and staff from the university’s Computer Systems Group. Coincidentally, I went to UW for grad school and interviewed with Watcom founder Wes Graham around 1985. However, this was before they had any focus on DOS or microcomputers in general. In later years, they did focus on x86 and DOS and the Watcom C compiler was particularly good at code optimization, which mattered greatly for games. A few years later, I was a product manager at Borland. I always liked and respected the Watcom team. The Watcom compiler took longer to compile, but the resulting code ran faster than Microsoft or Borland C compilers, so they did very well with commercial software developers (Games, CAD, etc) though Borland and Microsoft had a much larger share of the mainstream market.
June 5, 2020 at 9:13 pm
Speaking of Wolfenstein mods, that was my first encounter with the game. Someone had installed a version that replaced the bosses with Mortal Kombat characters on one of the computers in my high school’s computer lab.
June 5, 2020 at 9:49 pm
So many stories to tell about the making of Doom, you could write a book about it. Indeed, some people already did! One of my favorite bizarre responses to the hype was the UseNet bombast for a Doom-killer named Smashing Pumpkins Into Small Piles Of Putrid Debris, whose acronym was immortalized as an id cheat code, and which wound up leading Doom sound effects to be sampled on a Smashing Pumpkins band recording.
I still have a very clear memory of firing up the Doom pre-release tech demo, which had players gamelessly wander the corridors of the Mars base, the engine at the time no less gobsmacking as a simple walking simulator… culminating in walking through a darkened room to discover… an inanimate enemy sprite. Inert as it was, it still managed to be a powerful and frightening reveal!
June 5, 2020 at 11:03 pm
“A sign posted at Carnegie-Mellon University…”
I can’t believe I am bothering to type this, but Carnegie Mellon University hasn’t had a hyphen since the 1980s.
I was working at CMU in 1993; I’d recently graduated and gotten a staff job on some software project rather than head out into the world. I remember everybody talking about Doom and its network problems. I probably saw the sign you mention, although I don’t specifically recall it. Whether Doom supplanted the campus’s dedication to nightly Netrek tournaments — that I’m not sure of at all.
June 6, 2020 at 11:15 am
Every little bit helps. :) Thanks!
June 8, 2020 at 6:13 am
I was at Cal Poly at the time. There were campus Usenet posts about not running Doom on the new dormitory Ethernet and signs in the PC labs as well. The campus network administration spent time with a sniffer to find broadcast packets and would ban your node if you got caught.
We spent a lot of time getting the right NDIS config to enable network mode and then playing with 4 players. (I recall it used SPX, not TCP/IP) It was astounding and immersive and a huge rush coming at the end of finals that year.
We later got our own 10BASE/2 (coax) setup to avoid getting in trouble using the campus switches.
Netrek was a fascinating community I never got involved in but watched from the sidelines. It had a lot of overlap with irc and the battles over cheating and server etiquette were one of the last holdouts to the Eternal September that Netcom and AOL brought on.
June 6, 2020 at 1:21 am
One of the interesting things in the shareware release was the last level – E1M8 Phobos Anomaly. By the time you had played the first seven levels, you were starting to get the swing of the game and how best to dispatch the bad guys. And then you come across these two flesh colored satires and you let loose a rocket and they don’t even blink. Fire another and still they just keep on coming. After much more fighting and probably thinking that they were set as un-killable as a last level finally, one goes down. Now the problem is to kill both before you get hit with too much of the green goop.
I think it was a really good way to show you that things are really just getting started and there is plenty more to come if you pay for more.
Yes, DOOM most definely changed computer gaming for me.
June 6, 2020 at 1:36 pm
“stoking the the flames”
“needed helped to shoulder”
should be “help”
“was largely taken up one American McGee”
should be “up by one”
“pointing out to me out how important”
second “out” shouldn’t be there
June 6, 2020 at 1:45 pm
June 6, 2020 at 4:43 pm
> Texture mapping in DOOM, while by no means perfectly perspective-correct, was at least closer to that ideal than in the older game.
Actually, Doom *did* have perspective-correct mapping. While technically Doom uses affine mapping, walls are subdivided on scanline so the uv mapping remains the same as what it would be using a full perspective-correct mapping, although at the cost of making slopes impossible (Doom Black Book, p. 212).
June 6, 2020 at 4:54 pm
I stopped at “affine.” :) Thanks!
June 7, 2020 at 6:47 am
A big reason the Sega Saturn port of Doom is so notoriously bad is that Carmack rejected the porting team’s original renderer (which was based around the system’s built-in GPU) because it introduced affine texture mapping. So the renderer had to be rewritten to run entirely in software, resulting in a port that rarely reaches above 15 frames per second. The original renderer supposedly ran at a steady 60.
June 8, 2020 at 12:07 pm
How bizarre. As best as I can recall, Doom ran perfectly adequately on the much less powerful Sega 32x, an add-on for the Genesis/MegaDrive.
June 8, 2020 at 5:44 pm
The new renderer for the Saturn version was rushed to meet the deadline and was ported over from the Playstation version, which was designed for a vastly different piece of hardware and didn’t work as well on the Saturn. The Saturn version actually handles the original Doom levels (which had simplified, reduced-detail versions prepared for the console ports) about as well as the 32X version—i.e. around 15-20fps—but running at full-screen and a higher resolution. It’s only once you get to the Ultimate Doom and Doom II levels (which had no simplified console-specific versions, and don’t exist in the 32X port) that the framerate goes through the floor. The invaluable Digital Foundry did a great video comparing and ranking all the old-school Doom ports, with the 32X coming ahead of the Saturn thanks to its more consistent playability.
June 7, 2020 at 6:53 am
Having been at a Silicon Valley job in 1994, I can attest to the productivity hit caused by DOOM when it was ported to Solaris late that year. I remember coworkers using our office phone system’s conference call features to do voice chat while playing (back then, developers had individual offices, not just cubicles). Its impact on work culture was immortalized in this Dilbert cartoon: https://dilbert.com/strip/1995-01-22
February 27, 2021 at 5:50 pm
June 7, 2020 at 7:12 am
Shadowcaster can’t really be considered a “Doom clone” for a few reasons, chief among them that it came out about three months earlier, in September ’93. Another is that its gameplay style is quite different: still mostly combat-driven, but with a hybrid point-and-click interface used in the likes of Ultima Underworld that adds a light dusting of RPG elements while allowing the player to target enemies in different parts of the screen. It also didn’t use the Doom engine but rather a Wolfenstein 3-D engine heavily enhanced by Carmack, which shares some of its limitations (tile-based maps, no non-orthogonal walls) but adds features that ended up in Doom (skyboxes, walls of different heights, variable lighting) and even some that didn’t (sloped floors and ceilings, underwater areas, flight, fog). It’s not a great game—it doesn’t offer enough non-combat gameplay to justify the point-and-click interface, which just feels clunky—but an interesting transitional work for Carmack, plus the first example of the fantasy-FPS genre that Raven was best known for until they became a Call of Duty studio.
June 7, 2020 at 7:35 am
(Raven’s first example of the fantasy-FPS genre, not the first altogether.)
June 7, 2020 at 9:08 am
Okay, let’s try this then. :)
June 8, 2020 at 5:55 pm
My first encounter with anything like a deathmatch was with the game Midi Maze on the Atari ST. Before opening the store and after closing on weekends, a computer shop near me used to hook up all their Atari STs (or your could bring your own) and host a big Midi Maze deathmatch tournament.
It didn’t do much for me but it was quite popular. Is it the origin of the “in-person” networked deathmatch?
June 9, 2020 at 7:10 pm
Actually it’s even older than that. Mazewar was developed at NASA and then expanded at MIT (with some work done by Dave Lebling, later of Infocom), with full network deathmatch coming in the PARC and X11 versions.
June 11, 2020 at 12:40 am
Minor correction: “a young pool sharp” should be “a young pool shark”
A great article! It brings back memories of spending many nights online to obtain all six disks over local Baltimore WWIV BBSs – and a year later making null-modem cables so we could play Deathmatch in our dorm rooms. It was amazing that you could also record an entire Deathmatch and then watch it again… until 4am… missing morning classes. Yes, Doom most definitely impacted productivity after its release.
June 11, 2020 at 8:42 am
Card sharp, pool shark. I have to learn to remember that. Thanks!
July 16, 2020 at 5:18 pm
It’s easy: the shark swims in a pool; the sharp … hmm … cuts the cards? ;)
By the way, I caught one instance of ” id’ ” — possessive without the “s”.
July 17, 2020 at 1:51 pm
That’s actually a great way to remember. Thanks for that and the correction!
June 14, 2020 at 10:33 pm
Doom definitely had a huge impact on the games industry. And the original is still reasonably popular today.
I’ve got this app on my phone called Delta Touch, which has various modified engines for running Doom, so all I had to do to play the game was copy the files from the Steam version on my computer to my phone. I play it with a Bluetooth controller. There’s not many games like that, which have stood the test of time to the point there’s fan made apps and engine mods dedicated just to making them run on phones.
June 18, 2020 at 7:28 pm
The running joke for pretty much any device with a screen is “Can it run Doom?” And chances are the answer is “yes,” even if you’re talking about a 1998 digital camera, a printer, or a thermostat. There’s even a blog dedicated entirely to this sort of thing.
June 19, 2020 at 3:21 pm
Although saying that Doom holds up can be a bit revisionist…
Almost nobody plays Doom as it was played back in the day. A lot of people play with vertical aiming, and almost everyone plays with a proper wasd setup and eliminates the “lookspring” from the original doom where the mouse would move you forward.
I would say that some minor control issues (keymappings) are all that keeps Doom in its original form from being a pleasant and modern experience today, but some players insist that the game is rubbish without vertical aim and a mod like Brutal Doom.
June 29, 2020 at 3:00 am
I forgot about DWANGO! I remember dialing my HS friend Michael’s house so we could play Doom with a 1:1 modem connection. Ah, good times. Not nearly as (socially) addicting as Counterstrike was for me later though.
July 16, 2020 at 5:37 pm
I can honestly say that DOOM is most definitely not my kind of game, at all.
I can also honestly say that, once I dropped my prejudices and joined my friends on our four-PC LAN (after having seen them having such a deliriously good time), I myself had a fantastically, deliriously fun time!
Man, we played deathmatch daily, for hours on end, for what seems like forever.
A few years later, as a network administrator for a local ISP in the late 1990s, I recall that when Quake III Arena came out, it was the hot thing to play at the office; so me and the other admins set up a clandestine server in one of the systems, and published the IP to our friends and colleagues from outside. As the IP was inevitably spread around, we had a grand old time playing locally in the NOC at T-1 speed against whomever was dumb enough to dial in via modem without a proper invitation. :)
Those were heady days indeed.
Not being really my type of game, I only played it with my friends during those occasions, and never played any other clone or FPS before or since. Still, I have some very fond memories of how much fun it was to play DOOM and Quake with my friends.
*sigh* Now I feel old.
September 20, 2020 at 11:26 pm
Catching up on my reading, but reminded of some of the online hype for DOOM before the release of the game:
As someone who lived on Fidonet’s gaming forums during my high school years, when DOOM was being promoted the way that you mention here, someone had offhandedly commented that it would not have gotten as much mention if it had a longer, harder to type name, such as “Smashing Pumpkins into Small Pieces of Putrid Debris”. That reference made it’s way into the game as one of the cheat codes, IDSPISPOPD.
That’s an early example of how fan feedback and viral marketing can have an effect on the game — and this was before the popular use of the internet.
March 22, 2021 at 10:24 pm
Fascinating article, this and so many others – where has this blog been all my life? (Or rather, where was I?) I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a literate (and compendious!) approach to the wide array of material you cover.
The only phrase that left me scratching my head was the line about those who would “scratch their heads that fall over two separate luridly violent full-page advertisements” — I struggled for a solid minute to figure out why “heads that fall over” would need to be scratched!
March 23, 2021 at 7:19 am
I confess I was equally confused when I saw your quotation — out of context, admittedly, but still…
April 1, 2021 at 7:19 pm
It’s claimed that Doom was installed on more computers than Microsoft Windows. It doesn’t sound completely impossible, but is it true?
April 2, 2021 at 8:14 am
It sounds pretty impossible to me. ;) By 1994, Windows was installed on tens if not hundreds of millions of computers, in businesses small, medium, and large, not to mention countless homes and educational institutions all over the world. DOOM was hugely popular, but even its numbers couldn’t possibly have compared to those. The only computer games that were played more than DOOM were probably… you guessed it, the ones that came with Windows.