Editorials
What Does ‘Doom’ Mean to You?
It’s weird that I’m writing this. I’m hardly qualified, and yet, I think this is a discussion worth having. I assume this conversation hasn’t been had because those who are more qualified to have it are busy stewing in their own eager anticipation for any clip, screen or detail that might give them an idea of what the Doom reboot we’ll be reacquainting ourselves with in the coming weeks will look like.
I’m afraid the anticipation for this game has reached a point where its long-awaited unveiling will only disappoint. Hype has taken down a lot of games, and while that’s definitely an obstacle the next Doom will need to overcome, it’s not the real problem.
The real issue is this series has an identity problem.
Before I can get into that, I’d like to share with you my own perception of what Doom is. Unfortunately, I can’t do that without talking about myself, but I promise to try my best to keep this from reading like a memoir.
Even before I joined Bloody Disgusting, I fancied myself a well-rounded enthusiast of the spooky scary genre. I had to up my game considerably when horror games became a pseudo-career, and in the six years since, I’ve made a concerted effort to try and play as many of them as I can. In my mission to be worthy of a genre I’ve loved my whole life, I tried everything from ambitious indies to often creatively limited AAA titles and even a bunch of more conceptual projects that likely would’ve required 6-12 more months of steady development before they would qualify as video games.
This would eventually lead me to the Doom franchise. The original served as my introduction to its hellishly bombastic world and a singular unnamed marine’s fight against the legions of hell.
It’d be a long time before I would get around to playing Doom 2 for the first time, and that was only because I thought doing so might help me develop a fuller understanding of the chunk of gaming history that I had missed out on. I’m not sure what it is about older video games that disagrees with my frail, sickly body, but 30 minutes with a 90’s era shooter tends to make me motion sick. Since the original two Doom games were more or less guaranteed to leave me feeling like I had just spent hours in a hot car on a bumpy road, I had to move on.
Doom 3 is the only game in the series that I’ve spent a significant amount of time with, and I didn’t actually beat it until a few years ago when I had to review the BFG Edition. The way I played horror games back then was dramatically different from how I experience them today, but the change wasn’t gradual, it was sudden.
That sudden change would happen just a year later, in 20015, with the arrival of Resident Evil 4. That game turned the horror genre upside-down, and at least a small part of the monumental impact it had also affected me.
Because 2004 me wasn’t burdened by what often feels like an endless piling on of responsibilities that starts almost immediately after high school, I was free to really take my time with it. This involved a number of habits that sound like gargantuan wastes of time now, such as investing way too much time into scouring text logs for codes that would grant me access to precious bounties that had been left unguarded inside storage lockers by the very people whose corpses now littered every other room.
Looking back, I’m surprised I didn’t develop some form of mild OCD. If I thought there was even the smallest chance I could’ve overlooked something, I wouldn’t hesitate to go well out of my way to see if I indeed had. If left unchecked, the thought that “I might have missed something” would almost always congeal into “I definitely missed something” which I would then need to remedy with completely unnecessary backtracking.
In the decade and change that’s come and gone since, backtracking is now a dirty word to many gamers. It’s become synonymous with lazy game design, just as one might bring up BioShock in an argument for video games as art, or Gone Home as an example of what this medium is capable when it comes to telling meaningful stories, Doom 3 was often brought up for the simple fact that it was lousy with monster closets.
Too many monster closets and not enough flashlights is a shitty legacy, but I could’ve made it so much worse by including that deliciously cheesy film adaptation starring The Rock and that guy from The Lord of the Rings who always looks like he just woke up.
If you’re familiar with the series, you know how much it’s changed since the early 90’s. That’s sort of the core of what I’m trying to get at with this article, which I legitimately believed would be a super quick thing I could knock out in an hour. That was a half dozen paragraphs ago, and now when I close my eyes all I see is the big, blocky Doom logo pressed against the inside of my eyelids.
I’ve tried to explain, as coherently as I’m capable of at 3am, what this series means to me. Even after all that, I can honestly say that I have no idea what I my expectations are for the game Bethesda doesn’t want us to call Doom 4.
The point of this, all of this, is what is Doom to you? I have the sneaking suspicion that my idea of what this series is about, what it aspires to be and where I think it’s headed won’t match up with what someone who grew up playing the classic games in the mid-90’s, or someone who only recently made the plunge with the Doom 3 BFG Edition. More importantly, I have no real idea of what the team at id Software sees when they’re contemplating its future.
I’m sure the enigma that’s kept them busy for what feels like a lifetime will come out, eventually, and it’ll be adored by many. I can’t say whether or not it’ll be “scary”, but I also don’t know if that’s the point. It may even follow Wolfenstein: The New Order and favor bombastic action and violence over nightmarish visuals and constructing effective scares. It may find a balance between the two, if that falls on the path that was chosen for it.
I can name quite a few franchises that came out of the early to mid-90’s, but none of them were ever as amorphous as Doom is now. Resident Evil has endured enough reboots, remakes, remasters and various other course changes to be comparable, but it never lost its core identity even when it was clear Capcom had no idea what they were doing with it.
The timeline of the first three Doom games is an odd one. This series has gone dormant for over a decade twice. That means enough time has gone by between the the last two games and the one we have on the way that each generation will have formed a different idea of what it is, because chances are, you haven’t played classic Doom and modern Doom. There’s no “correct” perception of what Doom is, but there’s only one that matters and it’s not ours.
So tell me, what’s your Doom?
Comics
10 Great EC Comics Stories Not Adapted for ‘Tales from the Crypt’
Tales from the Crypt has been influential in keeping EC Comics alive in the public conscience, even after going off the air thirty years ago. That classic horror show pulled from multiple stables within the iconic comic publisher, but it also didn’t adapt everything. Even the ones the producers did pick weren’t always faithfully retold on screen.
So while it might seem like Tales from the Crypt covered plenty of EC Comics’ works, a lot still remains unadapted.
These ten great stories would have made fine additions to the series.
“Bats in My Belfry!” (Tales from the Crypt)

When an actor named Harry began to lose his hearing, a friend put him in contact with a special “doctor”. After receiving the gift of super-hearing—a taxidermist implanted a bat’s auditory system inside of Harry—the protagonist learned about his wife’s affair. On top of that, she and her paramour were planning to kill Harry. Of course, they didn’t realize Harry had transformed into a humanoid vampire bat.
Something Tales from the Crypt didn’t do enough of, on account of whatever reason (budget and time restraints seem most likely), was stories about monsters. But Crypt once had the best contacts in the business, so you can bet that were-bat would have been in good hands.
“The Beast of the Full Moon!” (The Vault of Horror)

Tom and his girlfriend, June, were fearful of the werewolf who’d been on a recent murder spree in their area. Tom already suspected his brother Andrew, who may have been infected after a trip to Corocoa. And when Tom had an encounter with the werewolf, he stabbed the creature’s right paw before it could flee. Later, Tom’s suspicions were all but confirmed when he saw Andrew’s bandaged right hand.
So, Tom laid a trap for the monster—a pit—, and he waited nearby with a gun full of silver bullets. One thing led to another, and Tom ended up in the pit with the werewolf. Luckily, someone above shot and killed the beast. That’s when Tom saw Andrew above ground and June in the pit, the latter dead from her gunshot wound.
While Tales from the Crypt did have lycan episodes, like “Werewolf Concerto” and “The Secret”, there was still room for one more. With the comic having such a small cast, though, it may have been too easy to figure out the culprit. But surely someone on staff could have punched up the original story for television.
“Pipe Down!” (The Haunt of Fear)

Lila hated her older husband, Andrew. After beginning an affair with a handyman named Howard, Lila plotted Andrew’s death. She and Howard got away with Andrew’s murder, but now they couldn’t marry for a year; otherwise, it would look suspicious. In the meantime, Lila purchased a pet monkey that was born on the same day that Andrew died.
When Howard found what looked like evidence of Lila having another lover—he spotted a lit cigar and two half-empty glasses—Howard flew into a rage and murdered his girlfriend. That’s when the cops arrived, saying a phone operator reported the disturbance. However, all she heard on the other end of the phone was an animal’s shriek. Once Howard was arrested, Lila’s monkey went back into the house, picked up a book, and smoked a pipe. Just like Andrew used to do.
This story would have fit in with the wackier episodes of Tales from the Crypt. There are quite a few of those—especially later on as the series moved away from the more macabre material. “Pipe Down!” also spices up the typical adultery-and-murder plots that were so common in EC’s output.
“Swamped” (The Haunt of Fear)

Deep in the Okefenokee Swamp, a cannibalistic hermit fed on those who traveled near his shack built over the water. He fed on visiting hunters and then disposed of their remains beneath his home. Anyone who revolted or came after him only ended up in the quicksand. Finally, though, the hermit suffered the same fate as his victims; he, too, slipped into the muddy graveyard below his crumbling shack. Yet now waiting for him were the hungry souls desperate to get back at their killer.
It’s unclear who the writer was behind “Swamped”, but their work here is intense. The insight and colorful descriptions are unexpected for that mere tale of the cannibal who got his just desserts. That kind of writing, along with Reed Crandall‘s artwork, makes this one of the most engaging stories from EC’s horror run.
“The October Game” (Shock SuspenStories)

Mitch, a deeply resentful and growingly mad father and husband, hosted his young daughter’s Halloween party. Kids and other parents soon all piled into the basement. The night of fun then ended with one last parlor game: Mitch passed around the body parts of a witch (an arm, her heart, and so on). One of the young guests assumed these were really things like chicken innards.
Mitch’s wife, Louise, looked for her daughter among the crowd, wondering if Marion was scared. That’s when Louise realized the girl wasn’t there—or alive. She begged everyone not to turn on the lights in the basement, out of fear of them seeing what Mitch had done to her poor daughter. Unfortunately for Louise, her plea was in vain.
Tales from the Crypt usually refrained from child-endangered stories, and it much rather focused on adult characters. But the show also lacked Halloween entries, apart from Season Six’s “Only Skin Deep“. Perhaps the need for Halloween, as a validation of any eerie goings-on, was unnecessary.
This Ray Bradbury adaptation (originally a short found in Weird Tales) is well deserving of a read. It’s a glowing example of suspense storytelling. The comic also never shows a lick of violence, yet it feels incredibly violent.
“Strictly from Hunger” (The Vault of Horror)

A posse of men stood before a cave, awaiting something horrible inside. One of the men, Doc, explained the uncanny and dangerous creature; he’d seen it before. Doc told everyone about how his patient, Pete, was diagnosed with a malignant, cancerous lump on his arm. There was nothing Doc could do to help him. Pete then sought assistance from an old witch in the mountain. Using magic, she made sure Pete would never die, although his cancer remained intact and unhealed.
Over time, the cancer cells in Pete’s body consumed all his healthy cells. To keep living, Pete turned into a giant blob that ate others’ healthy cells. Back in the present story, the posse fought the emerging creature until it retreated into the cave. The characters all finally blocked the entrance to prevent Pete from ever escaping again.
Obviously, Tales from the Crypt didn’t have the budget to support a story like this one, but imagine if it did. A body horror episode of this degree could have been fantastic, not to mention outright disgusting.
“Marriage Vow” (The Haunt of Fear)

Martin and Eva’s marriage was no longer a happy one. Eva, who’d become controlling and slovenly a few years after their wedding, refused to let Martin out of her sight. “Till death do us part,” she would always say. Eventually, Martin killed Eva; he loosened the wrought iron bars on the balcony where Eva liked to spend time, and she fell to her death. However, Eva didn’t stay dead, as she came back as a zombie intent on honoring the “till death” part of their vows.
EC did more than its fair share of stories like “Marriage Vow”, as did Tales from the Crypt. Spousal murder was pretty common. This comic, though, delivers a strong implication as the zombified wife tells her husband to “come to bed”. That line makes a reader’s imagination run wild.
“Dog Food” (Crime SuspenStories)

A prisoner named Tom swore revenge on the warden, Lester, after a fellow prisoner was tortured and killed under his command. However, to get past Lester’s voracious guard dogs, so that he could enter his house and kill him, Tom started saving meat from his meals. The other prisoners also contributed to his collection.
Tom set off on his journey to Lester’s dog-guarded house, but he ran out of meat before reaching his destination. So, Tom did the next best thing and fed parts of his own body to the dogs.
Once again, Reed Crandall elevated a gruesome, vengeful story with his realistic style. It’s so lurid. At any rate, it was just too graphic for Tales from the Crypt to adapt—and that’s really saying something here.
“Master Race” (Impact)

Carl Reissman was on a subway, remembering his “bloody war years” in Germany. Even after a decade had passed, he remained paranoid. And as he spotted a certain other passenger coming his way, a man in all black, Carl became afraid and started running. His mind flashed back to the events of the Holocaust during this “chase”.
Finally, before Carl fell on the tracks and in the path of an oncoming train, he revealed he wasn’t a prisoner in a concentration camp; he commanded one. The stranger in black said to those onlookers, asking what happened; he didn’t even know the victim. This Carl had simply run from him on the platform.
While Tales from the Crypt did occasionally go beyond what was available in their more horror-centric source material—the war-themed Two-Fisted Tales, for instance—it didn’t ever go near Impact. This short-lived series is considered toned down for EC. Even still, that didn’t make “Master Race” any less shocking. It’s a potent entry that wouldn’t have fit in with the Tales from the Crypt show we now know, but nonetheless, it’s a thought-provoking piece of storytelling.
“Forty Whacks!” (Crime SuspenStories)

A twenty-two-year-old woman named Fanny was frustrated by her parents; they flipped out when she put on makeup. However, when the daughter discovered a mysterious hatchet in her attic, she became possessed by a strange power and did the unthinkable. One after the other, Fanny used that hatchet to kill her parents.
The detective assigned to Fanny’s case was interrupted by his wife and son. The former had an out-there theory: the hatchet belonged to the infamous Lizzie Borden, and it was now capable of causing children to kill their own parents. The detective didn’t buy his wife’s idea, but that was until his entranced son picked up the murder weapon and took a swing at his pop.
Here, EC dipped into historical crime for a ghoulish story that sounds like something out of Friday the 13th: The Series. Maybe it’s a bit in bad taste, but that has never stopped Tales from the Crypt—which is why we love it.

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