Doom 64 - Distorted Nostalgia

Everyone has a particularly influential device that leads them through the looking glass and into the world of video games. For many my age and older, it was a particular console, or maybe the family PC. For those younger, it might be an iOS or Android device. For me, it was the Nintendo 64.

The console wasn’t for me, at least initially. My Dad has never been that into games, but in the late 90s, the “grown-up” appeal of Turok and Quake must have grabbed hold. Over time, our collection grew to around a dozen formative experiences; from Bomberman 64 and Banjo Kazooie, Pokemon Snap and Stadium 2, Crusin’ USA and Mario Kart 64. And, of course, Doom 64.

Getting access to the family TV was a highly limited and anxious affair. I would sit and watch an entire 2 hour football match on a Saturday afternoon with my Dad, spend 30 minutes post-game working up the courage to ask if I could play Nintendo, then maybe get an hour in at best before tea. I’d spend all that lead time not paying any attention to the footy; instead I’d be dreaming of which game I wanted to play most that day, and what I was going to spend that precious time actually doing in said game.

I feel like I played games so different back then. Finishing games was never a priority. I’d swap between carts all the time, never getting far into anything. And because that time was precious, I couldn’t waste my time learning how to play these games properly - no, instead, in order to maximise my play time, I would turn to the saviour of us less-than-pro gamers: cheat codes.

It took years for me to gain any confidence whatsoever in my ability to play half decently. On the off chance I was allowed to borrow my older sister’s copy of Super Mario 64, I was too frightened to enter a level - instead I’d spend hours outside the castle, just climbing trees. I would always go the long way around in Mumbo’s Mountain, because that bull was too intimidating for Banjo & Kazooie to face. When I played the “adult” games, I couldn’t even consider the possibility of booting up the game without help. 

Thankfully, back in my day young whipper snappers, most games were loaded full of secret cheat codes to help a player out. All weapons, infinite ammo, and of course, invulnerability, were all tools in my arsenal against the demons of hell. Without them, I couldn’t even begin a new game; with them, I could… well… creep around, ever so slowly, and blast the bad guys with the BFG 9000 before running away in panic.

As a 28 year old, the claustrophobic halls and enemy spawning traps of Doom 64 are tense and creepy. As a 10 year old, they were downright terrifying. Even with absolutely no chance of penalty or failure, I never played more than the first few levels. As a result, I never had the chance to fully appreciate what was right in front of me.

Until Doom 2016, the only reference I had for the franchise was this experience with 64. The world apparently panned the game at the time for its poor graphics (not true) and the poor controls (yeah ok, that’s fair), but to someone outside that bubble, those things never mattered. Instead, it was what the game did right that sticks in my mind nearly two decades later - and what made the Switch re-release such a draw.

At the extremely cheap price Doom 64 is on modern consoles, it was one of the few recent releases that was an easy purchase. All I hoped for out of it was thirty minutes of nostalgia washing over me, and I’d be happy. So when I loaded up Doom 64 for the first time, I scrolled right down to the Options menu while googling, “Doom 64 cheat codes”.

But before I entered the codes, I stopped. I could play the game exactly as I did all those years ago, sure. But, to be honest, I’ve changed a lot since then. I stopped relying on cheat codes around the time of GTA Vice City. I’ve learned to trust my instincts and learn to try harder and be better at things I’m not good at. Above all, I’ve learned that failure isn’t something to be frightened by.

I exited the menu, went up to New Game, and pressed the A button. 

These days, I’m still not exactly good at games. I don’t pretend to be, and most of the time twitch games just aren’t my cup of tea - even in 2016’s Doom, I bumped the difficulty down, because that’s where I get most of my enjoyment when it comes to these experiences. Doom 64 was no different in this regard - “Be Gentle” sounded like the right gear for me.

The first few maps were exactly as I remembered - albeit with a little less rockets and plasma weapons involved. My nostalgic hopes were on the money - even without the assistance of cheats, this was hitting all the right spots. I remember the first time you round that corner and a pinky is running right at you. Ah yes, at the end of this level is the door you open to find a Hell Knight blasting you in the face. 

I very nearly stopped playing the game there, having got what I needed out of my $7.50 purchase. And then I entered the teleporter to Hell.

Despite being a 20 year old game, I was very impressed by two things with my 8 hours of play time - the first being not only the visual style, but the variety of design. Doom 2016 didn’t even have this kind of level diversity, with it’s various shades of red, brown and grey. 64, on the other hand, is filled with constantly evolving structural design, full of greens, blues, purples and yellows. It turns out the constraints in artistic ability afforded by the (by todays standards) more primitive technology forced a stylized creative mindset, producing incredibly evocative environmental storytelling among dread-inspiring skyboxes.

Secondly, and this is noted all over the internet already, but damn - that sound design. It is disturbing. Gone is the famous midi metal, and in it’s place comes eerie moaning, foreboding creaking and noises that are just faint enough that you can’t quite make out, but you swear they shouldn’t be here. I swear to god, I heard a baby crying faintly at one point.

At 10 years of age, none of this would have even registered to me. At the time, the game just creeped me the hell out, and I could barely make my way to the end of a level without needing to partake in some sentient vegetable destruction with my favourite bear & bird combo. Now, I understand why - and it’s no less anxiety inducing.

Some people would bemoan my playing through the game on the easiest difficulty, but that’s how I chose to enjoy my return to Doom 64. I never died to the challenge of the game (apart from falling in a lava pit without exit, my own undoing honestly) even though a handful of times it came close. I always had plenty of ammo.

Most importantly, in some ways, I conquered my fear of these demons that haunted me so long ago. Instead of running away scared from invisible pinky demons and being terrified of flying skulls, I ran directly toward them, super shotgun in hand. It was empowering, and of course, fun.

I made it to the final level, and having not read any guides, realized I’d shot myself in the foot by missing the 3 secret levels and the demon keys they held. I was able to survive the onslaught Hell was throwing at me, but that Mother Demon just crushed me. I considered going back and trying to get the demon keys, but playing nearly the whole game through again was a step too far. Maybe one day, but not now.

Instead, I stared that Mother Demon in the face… paused the game, went to the Options menu, and typed in the Ultimate Password. I didn’t use invulnerability or infinite ammo, but I gave myself the best fighting chance while still presenting a challenge. 

The whole process of playing Doom 64 - as a kid, right up to now - has been a strange journey. Definitely not one “intended by the developer”. 

In using a cheat right at the very end of the game, some might see that as making a concession when I’d made it so far on my own - like jumping in the car for the final mile of a marathon. I grappled with that notion for a bit, but ultimately, I think doing what I did represents something more of us need to do: conquer what we can on our own, if that’s how we want to approach it; but when it comes down to it, accept help when it is available, and needed.

In this specific case, I know I probably could have spent the time mastering the fight, running it over and over again, and eventually coming out on top. What would that have achieved? Honestly, I know myself enough to say that it would have been a few hours of frustration and anger, followed by a “thank god that’s over”. The whole journey would have become tainted by a negatively impacting destination.

Using the Ultimate Password felt like a bridging between my past self and current day. A closing of the loop and a reflection of the journey, from who I used to be to who I am today.

I briefly began playing through the additional content Bethesda and id have added in to this re-release - The Lost Levels - but that’s not really what I came to Doom 64 for. This was a very personal challenge, set by and for myself, and I saw it through. I’m happy with that.

Crossing into Hell was the moment that Doom 64 bumped up from nostalgia piece to brand new experience, albeit one informed by a younger self’s version of play. It’s a weird feeling. So much of my childhood gaming memory is wrapped up in these N64 games, and I thought I knew exactly what I was getting here. Instead, the journey became a lens to view how I’ve grown, from terrified child to (hopefully) thoughtful adult.

Usually when it comes to nostalgia plays by modern corporations, they are mostly cashing in on an already proven investment. Doom 64 is that, to an extent, though there is new content included in The Lost Levels, which is neat (and worth the new price of admission alone honestly, particularly if you’re into Doom lore). But for me personally, revisiting this childhood nightmare was not only an exercise in finishing what I began all those years ago, but one of reflecting on personal growth and acceptance.

Who would’ve thought ripping and tearing through the demons of hell could do such a thing.