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Doom 3 Gets Reviews, Piracy Questions, Exultation
Yeti Von Baseball writes "Now that Doom 3 has officially shipped to stores, Computer Gaming World just posted its Doom 3 review - they also posted about 100 or so new screens." Elsewhere, GameSpy has an in-progress weblog and first-look impressions on the "claustrophobic corridors" of the game, Telefragged posted one of the first reviews, praising "a grand slam of action, story, atmosphere, and pure terror", the BBC reports on how "potential sales could be hit by the extent of online piracy of the game", and Time Magazine has a feature on Doom 3 and id.
Jon is the legendary programmer of such classic PC games as Wolfenstein, Doom, Duke nukem 3d, Quake 1, 2, and 3, unreal, and the upcoming doom3. Jon has single handedly created the genre known as the first-person-shooter. He has also popularized the OpenGL 3d format over Microsoft's competing Direct3d format, as well as caused public interest in 3d cards when he first released accelerated quake for the s3 virge chipset. Jon carmack has redefined gaming on PC's.
Now stop for a moment and think, What would have happened if Albert Einstein had worked creating amazing pinball games instead of creating the theory of relativity? Humanity would suffer! Jon carmack is unfortunately doing JUST THIS, using his gifts at computer coding to create games instead of furthering the knowledge of humanity. Carmack could have been working for NASA or the US military, but instead he simply sits around coding violent computer games.
Is this a waste of a special and rare talent? Sadly, the answer is yes.
Unfortunately, it doesn't stop there. Not only is Jon carmack not contributing to society, he is causing it's downfall. What was the main reason for the mass murder of dozens of people in columbine? Doom. It's always the same story: Troubled youth plays doom or quake, he arms himself to the teeth, he kills his classmates. This has happened hundreds of times in the US alone. Carmack is not only wasting his talents and intelligence; he is single-handedly causing the deaths of many young men and women. How does he sleep at night?
Carmack is a classic example of a very talented and intelligent human being that is bent on total world destruction. Incredibly, he has made millions of dollars getting people hooked on psychotic games where they compete on the internet to see who can dismember the most people. I believe there is something morally wrong when millions of people have computerized murder fantasies, and we have Jon Carmack to thank. Carmack has used his superior intellect to create mayhem in society. Many people play games such as quake so much that their minds are permanently warped. A cousin of mine has been in therapy for 6 months after he lost a 'death match' and became catatonic.
It is unfortunate that most people do not realize how much this man has damaged all the things we have worked hard for in America. Jon has wasted his intelligence, caused the deaths of innocent children, and warped this country forever. To top it off, he got rich in the process and is revered by millions of computer users worldwide. Perhaps one day the US government will see the light and confine Jon Carmack somewhere with no computers so he can no longer use his intelligence to wreak havoc on society.
Come on, linking to 100 screenshots of Doom III in a slashdot blurb? That's just cruel.
Alphanos
Not to mention none of the guns have a flashlight attached to them. I mean in this entire complex they don't have ANY duct tape?
With the release of Doom3 today, I am taking two weeks of vacation effective immediately. I will not be reachable by direct email, cell phone or smoke signals. Should you feel the need to contact me, please leave a message and I will respond when I stop playing the game because I started hallucinating.
It make take me a while to respond as I expect my fingers to have fallen off by that point. Also, I will most likely be unintelligeable so be prepared not to understand a word I say. After two weeks, please alert all my co-workers to my return. They will need to prepare for my two weeks of body odor as well as purchase very dark sunglasses. I expect I will be very pale by then, perhaps blindingly pale.
Sincerely,
Your local Space Marine.
Well, there's spam egg sausage and spam, that's not got much spam in it.
After two hours of getting creeped out, eaten alive, ass kicked, munched on. pulled down the ever so trusty in-game commandline, typed in the words:
spawn monster_boss_cyberdemon
Holy mother of God! Is that...omg!!...
Yes, that is Bill Gates' head in a jar.
Stop the world; I need to get off.
Now if you'll just post contact information, I'll happily take this terrible game off your hands for .. say .. $10? Your hands deserve better.
I mean, it's a *really* crappy game.
Warning: attempted humour
Doom Three: Two simple words --the former a noun, or transitive verb; the latter the third ordinal, or second prime. But together, they bond to become a powerful concept. One greater than the sum of its parts, a new world-view paradigm, a religion, a little boy's wish, a grown man's hope, yet so much more that cannot be said. I cannot wait -- as I write this from the queue outside my local game shop, my hand trembles; it's cold and the last eight days here have been lonely at night. I sit here, shaking in anxiety for the shop to open, feverishly and unconciously tugging at myself through my ripped pockets, salivating at the thought of buying that precious 27-CD shrink wrapped bundle of frag-laden joyness. I can no longer feel the pain of hunger gnawing at me, or my unblinked eyes drying out as mosquito after mosquito lay filthy eggs on my unmoving door-focused corneas.
Once I get my stinking body inside, punching, kicking and gouging all who stand in my way before setting paws on the box, the sweaty, piss soaked bundle of canadian dollars hurled across the counter, not waiting for the reciept (I WILL NEVER RETURN IT) I shall then flee home, globs of frosted faeces tumbling down my trouser legs, to rip the box to shreds as I scamper up the stairs to my apartment door, barely avoiding slipping to my death on the spattering of saliva that spews ahead as I gurgle and scream. I spend two days loading CD after CD of the Carmack code mana into my pathetic 40GB drive, uninstalling and carelessly -- and joyfully -- deleting any important files/documents or Windows DLLs that stand in my way until all 18.5GB of its magnificant glory sits arranged in pretty streams of bytes in the hallowed magnetic media of my laptop's Winchester. I wait, wait and wait some more as the last bit is flipped from 1 to 0 and XP coughs yet another 32x32 icon onto my disorganized desktop. I grab my Razer Viper, impatient fingers biting into the sides of it like a hawk plucking a salmon from a river -- I slide the mouse smoothly to the icon and double click... first slowly, then rapidly speeding up, I begin clicking like some kind of maniacal parkinsons afflicted beta tester, not caring whether I spawn one or a hundred copies of the executable. I just want to see something. I can't wait any longer. NOW.
SHOW ME LIGHTMAPS DAMMIT.
The cooling fan audibly shifts gears in my AthlonXP 2200+ laptop; whining, whirring like some kind of demented air conditioner and I swear the screen is sweating -- maybe it's excited too? I hear the dulcit squeals of pain as my motherboard integrated radeon IGP 320, radeon 7000 equivalent video card struggles to preload megabyte after megabyte of 32 bit texture into the 64MB of shared SDRAM that it so tenuously controls.
SHOW ME DYNAMIC LIGHTS, DAMMIT.
I notice a strange smell from somewhere, something new, sharp on the nose, not at all like the waft of dried urine that sneaks around under the desk; what is that? As I unconsciously let another flow of hot piss run down my leg -- this is no time for toilet pleasantries -- I ponder the source of the new acrid smell, whilst mainly watching the harddrive light flicker, then remain permanently on. Thefan shifts gears once more.
SHOW ME TRILINEAR FILTERING, DAMMIT.
Fifteen minutes pass, the smell grows stronger; I imagine in my minds eye, each CPU clock cycle, 1.8 million times a second, sucking, pumping and routing that precious bytestream and distributing it to all the hardware that comprises my sub-1000$ laptop. Suddenly, *POOF*, the magic blue smoke appears, wispy at first, then blows rapidly in large plumes from all vents as the CPU fan generates gusts best measured on the Beaufort scale. Then, the screen fades rapidly to a white dot: "Oh the suspense!" I squeal to myself with glee. For a few moment
PGP KeyId: 0x08D63965
Consider the plot of the game. A man without duct tape would certainly be in Hell.
Fred
"A fool and his freedom are soon parted"
-RMS
Would one of those higher priority things be providing duct tape to the largest, most powerful high tech company in the solar system that happens to run an installation on Mars that seems to have a high percentage of leaking ducts?
It is also useful for taping flashlights to weapons, or the side of one's helmet.
Thanks,
A Concerned Marine.
(I kid - please don't send flaming skulls to my house;)