A Violent Throwback That Lacks Bite

“Rip and tear, until it is done.”

This is the line that opens id Software’s duology of modern Doom games: Doom (2016) and Doom Eternal (2020). It’s a creepy, campy narration meant to set the tone for not-quite-horror games with horrific settings. But it’s also a mission statement — players should be expecting a visceral thrill ride of blasting, bloodletting, and shredding things up with reckless abandon.

By contrast, Doom: The Dark Ages opens with a text wall laid over black, filling in some lore about the eponymous Doom Slayer with the whistling winds of a storm brewing in the background. It’s a more muted kickoff, for sure, but it also serves its own purpose. This isn’t going to be exactly like its immediate predecessors. In fact, it won’t necessarily be like any Doom at all.

Yes, there will be demons to kill, double-barrel shotguns to wield, and a generous amount of ripping and tearing, but there’s something else at play. Almost 10 years after the 2016 reboot reinvigorated the franchise, it’s once again time to try something new.

Whether new means better is a different story entirely.

Doom and gloom

After its introductory text dump, The Dark Ages reveals its setting with an aerial scroll over tree-lined hills. Beyond the horizon, the sky is red with a familiar pentagram etched into the clouds. But instead of the ruined cityscape of Earth or the barren sands of Mars, there’s a castle under siege. Dragons soar, razing the air and ground as heavy artillery fire rains. It resembles more of a fantasy setting than the cybertronic sci-fi setting fans might recognize. This is a whole new world (at least, in some ways).

Whereas as most games in the series bounce between Mars-adjacent space stations, Earth, and various dimensions that constitute takes on heaven and hell, The Dark Ages is set in another realm, populated by humans at war with demonic forces. The people here might look like Vikings, but they’re equipped with guns, aircraft, and little accents to their outfits that indicate that this is science-fantasy.

Allied with the Makyrs (Doom’s take on biblically horrible angels), the humans are losing their fight against the denizens of Hell, and it’s time to unleash a secret weapon: a mysterious and mute wall of a man dubbed the Slayer. It’s Doomguy, the sometimes space marine, always murder-happy killing machine that stars in most of the games. His origins have muddied with time as multiple continuities, retcons, and heaps of unlockable dossiers have fleshed out his history. But none of it really matters. He’s here to bathe in demon blood, and that’s enough.

The pivot to a fantasy setting is a cool idea in theory. Doom has always been steeped in the kind of hellish imagery society associated with badassery and counterculture in the Nineties. Despite its sci-fi trapping, the techno-demons and monsters always leaned closer to Heavy Metal illustrations than basic ghouls and zombies, and the makers of The Dark Ages decided it was time to wash away the veneer. Doom is now very literally the thing it was dancing around and frequently looks closer to Diablo than anything else in its own canon.

But with that makeover, some of the campy energy is lost. Don’t be mistaken, the story is still very stupid in a fun way, but the fantasy tone strips some of the comedic edge the more recent games leaned into. In Doom (2016), the Slayer’s sole emotion is rage; he’s just so fucking over it with humanity messing with hell portals. In that game, the Slayer is less Jason Voorhees and more Terminator. Carelessly ripping keycards from people’s necks or violently grabbing faces to slam into retinal scanners, there’s a weary humor to how annoyed he is that provides levity in between his fits of rage.

Doom Eternal doubled down on this — to the dismay of some — making the Slayer into a dickish superhero who resides in his own Justice League-like satellite in Earth’s orbit (wonderfully called the Fortress of Doom).

The Dark Ages is a prequel to those prior games, and that context could help explain why the Slayer isn’t quite the physically comedic genius we’ve come to love. But it’s part of a larger issue with the game and the series itself as it’s evolved. Which each subsequent entry in the modern trilogy, the story and cutscenes begin to take up more space. Whereas before much of the narrative was laid out in diegetic conversations and screens to stare at from the Slayer’s POV (which he’d usually slap or smash afterward), every chapter in The Dark Ages begins and ends with a big cutscene.

And while there’s still some humor to be mined from the general inhumanity of this hulking tank quietly standing around in someone else’s story, the narrative isn’t complex enough to sustain itself. A lot more stuff is happening, but it’s no better written than anything that’s come before. It just takes up extra time.

New ideas, same as the old ideas

Half-hearted attempts at storytelling aside, the primary question is whether The Dark Ages is actually fun. The answer is yes. Despite its fresh look and lesser emphasis on being tongue-in-cheek, it’s still very much a Doom game. That name means a lot. 1993’s OG Doom wasn’t exactly the first-ever first-person shooter, but it’s perfect blend of POV gunplay and frenetic movement led every game in the genre to be dubbed as Doom Clones for numerous years. It’s the quintessential FPS; imitated by many but bested by none.

The modern games, too, have defined themselves as being unparalleled in their gameplay mechanics. Although there’s a clear difference in how they’re played and paced, Doom (2016) and Eternal are two of the best shooters ever — maelstroms of controlled chaos that no other developers have even tried to emulate.

Sadly, not even id Software themselves are trying to emulate them with The Dark Ages. In a reasonable attempt to try something new, they’ve actually decided to do something old, and The Dark Ages is intended to return to the roots of the franchise in terms of its movement speed and combat design. Rather than barreling full sprint into every encounter for a one-two combination of shotgun blasting and chain sawing, players are expected to take a slightly more measured approach.

Unlike the previous games where players were expected to play offensively, soaking up damage to score Glory Kills (animated executions by hand) that would provide much needed health, The Dark Ages demands more methodical, defensive play.

That comes from two specific mechanics. The first is the shield (which, fair enough, also serves as a buzzsaw) — a tool that the bulk of the combat is predicated on. Rather than having beams of hellfire raining uncontrollably, enemies fire clearly telegraphed attacks that can be blocked by the shield. Their speed and visibility are more in line with the older games, where players were meant to sidestep threats rather than commit to eating them.

With the shield, the second primary mechanic comes into play: parrying. With a well-timed button press, green-colored attacks can be parried, sending shockwaves back to inflict damage on the enemy. Together, blocking and parrying become the core loop of the game, where precise timing and spatial awareness are paramount to creating an opening for gunfire.

In theory, the concept is sound. True to its fantasy setting, the system is pulled from countless action games like Elden Ring that have become popular over the last 15 years. In practice, it works mostly well. Once players learn the rhythm of the game and can see into the matrix, it becomes very clear what needs to be parried and how they should be proceeding. But seeing what’s coming isn’t the same as execution.

A dance of friction

The biggest issue with The Dark Ages’ new systems is that there’s an internal conflict between the action moves cribbed from other games and the Doom of it all. Games like Elden Ring are designed as third-person experiences, where enemy locations and their proximity to one’s character are clear, but Doom has always been about being surprised by what’s just out of the line of sight. Dropped into an arena to fight 30 to 40 foes, all of which are shooting attacks meant to be parried, becomes chaotic (in a bad way), and there will be countless unintended deaths caused by baddies you never even knew were there.

The shield itself isn’t an infinite resource. After soaking up enough damage it breaks for a period, leaving the Slayer defenseless. It’s also not quite quick enough on the fly to parry everything that’s being thrown at it. Frequently, the kill shot that ends an attempt comes from a hellfire blast that could be plainly seen coming but slipped in between the lines between one parry and another. It doesn’t help that the Slayer himself is much slower than before, and despite still being faster than 90 percent of gaming protagonists, he’s just not quick footed enough to escape a bullet storm. When the shield breaks, he’s a sitting duck.

The breaking mechanism also means that the sole means of closing in fast dissipates. With the shield, players can lock onto enemies and miraculously teleport to their location for a smash. That ends during the recovery period. This game’s version of Glory Kills also lacks the extended reach of previous games.

Before, a well-timed shot would leave a glowing enemy in the distance as a much needed out; a single button press could warp you away to safe distance while recovering a fraction of health. Here, the range is much smaller and frequently fails to connect. Melee attacks are also limited to three uses before needing to be refilled, meaning that mixing up a Glory Kill execution with a context sensitive auto-kill comes with a penalty. Often, the mistake comes from the game itself misreading the action rather than the player.

Most of the time, the game feels great to play. Once acclimated to its specific quirks, there’s a strategy to be made or followed. But there’s an odd level of polish lacking in certain design choices that feels janky. Sometimes you click for a parry and nothing happens, other times ammo glitches and can’t be picked up.

When using the shield, you’d assume you’d be able to use the radial menu to switch guns, but you can’t — what’s the point of turtling behind it if you can’t use the moment to prepare for the next attack? Many times, you’re left with the wrong gun for the job because the selection menu never popped up, something you’d easily miss in the heat of battle.

Some would argue that this is all part of the game’s charm, its own little bit of friction to overcome. In recent years, as retro gaming and nostalgia goggles have left everyone yearning for throwbacks, the term friction has become a hot button topic. If a game is intended to play like older ones you remember, then shouldn’t it be a little janky? In truth, the worship of friction is more of a way for people to gaslight themselves into believing a game is great because it plays poorly.

That’s not to say that The Dark Ages plays like shit, but there are shitty moments, which is disappointing given the series’ pedigree. Doom (2016) and Eternal felt experiencing a ballet of carnage, with flawless agility weaving the Slayer through each encounter. The Dark Ages is more like a line dance that accidentally ends in a fistfight.

But at the end of it all, a mediocre Doom game is still better than most. For players who are looking for a return to the feeling of classic Doom over the cocaine-fueled pace of the newer games, The Dark Ages offers a middle ground. Adopting ideas from most modern action games doesn’t quite mesh as well as intended, but holistically, it’s hard to argue that it’s not fun. By losing some of its arrogant charm, Doom has also lost the means to back it up. The Doom Slayer’s gone from being aggressively over it to just being kind of tired.

‘Doom: The Dark Ages‘ is out now for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S, and Windows. It’s also playable on Xbox Game Pass.