Doom

Introduction to Doom

The moment you step into those dimly lit corridors and hear the low hum of the soundtrack, there’s a palpable tension in the air. Every corner seems poised to spit out demons, and the flicker of your flashlight only adds to the suspense. I remember my heart racing the first time a cacodemon dropped down from the ceiling—my finger hovered over the trigger, and I felt a rush I hadn’t really experienced in any other game before.

What really hooked me was the way the weapons felt. There’s something deeply satisfying about switching from the humble pistol to the shotgun and watching a horde of imps scatter in a crimson spray. And that chainsaw—oh, that chainsaw—cuts through enemies with such visceral gusto it practically begs you to charge forward. Even the simple act of finding secret doors or backtracking under pressure became this little puzzle in the chaos, rewarding you with extra ammo or health when you least expected it.

Beyond the core experience, it’s wild to think about how people started creating their own levels almost immediately. You’d swap floppy disks—or later, files—just to try out someone else’s twisted labyrinth of traps and monsters. That DIY spirit turned a great game into a living, breathing community project. Every time someone cooked up a new mod or skin, it felt like a little gift to everyone else who’d been pulled into that dark, adrenaline-fueled world.

Decades on, there’s still nothing quite like barreling down a metal hallway, shotgun in hand, with nothing but duct tape and determination holding you together. Even now, the echo of those first steps, the thrill of discovery, and the roar of enemies collapsing under fire remain as potent as ever. It’s a rare thing when a game redefines an entire genre and stays relevant through countless updates, ports, and reinterpretations, yet somehow it does.