Halfway through Doom: The Dark Ages, everything snapped into place for me, like the demon bones I had been barreling my way through for hours. I ran at breakneck speed, firing energy weapons at a group of shielded foes to blow the mob to smithereens. I switched to my railgun, setting up an explosion that led to a finishing blow, zooming me towards the unlucky enemy. Now deep in the mob of enemies, I parried a muscled demon’s jump attack with impeccable timing and crushed it with three meaty swings of my iron flail. A Spartan kick finished things off.
The non-stop rhythm of raining doom on my enemies continued for eight straight minutes, culminating in me ripping out the heart of the largest foe before me. With sweaty palms, I let out a sigh of relief and fist-pumped the air as if I just scored a touchdown in the playoffs. These are the awesome highs that this game dispenses at a steady clip.
