hellifornia dreaming vat returns
They'll be waiting to cheer
Your life re-lived

NAME: Jim
80S STYLE: Neon flecked trousers
HIGHSCORE 3 DIGIT AVATAR: JIM
ARCH HIGHSCORE RIVAL: JIM (yeah it was meself)
ARCADE CHOICE: Star Wars, sit down cab of course
WHERE: In an arcade in Ilfracombe, Devon, UK
HOME CHOICE: Speedball 2
WHERE: At home on my Amiga 500
PLAYED LIKE NO OTHER: Speedball 2
TV SHOW: Transformers or Jayce and the Wheeled Warriors
LIVED: Shropshire
DREAMED OF: Outer space
FILM: Gremlins
CRUSH: A girl in the lingerie section of the Kays catalogue
CRISPS: Pickled Onion Monster Munch
BIKE: BMX

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Doom III. It's out in the UK today. We've played it and y'know - it's good, it's okay. Worth the money. Fun, a bit scary. Nicely done. We'll post a review at some point in case you happen to be the one person who didn't pre-order it. But THIS is much more Rodent:

I had a dream about Doom 3 last night.

I was put into a dark, twisted environment where everything was tinged Hell red. I held an axe and faced down a thousand Devil spawn, torn and crushed into mutant shapes and dripping with blooded flesh. I raced through myriad rooms, hacking at bodies falling against me as I ran, the torrential flood of meat falling against my burning skin. The enclosed spaces stinking of gangrene and pus, mutated beings swiping at me with clawed limbs and screaming through their gurgling, foetid breath.

I awoke dripping in sweat, gasping for breath and begging for mercy, yet I returned. Returned to the dreamland to face a new wave of impossibly fast beings charging at me with distorted limbs. The open freedom of the outside world closing in around me - the crowds of Hellish beings trying to rip away my skin as I scrambled for safety. Continually searching, searching for escape, searching for weapons, anything that might provide a chance of survival. A gun, a plank of wood, a discarded limb? Swiping, slashing, hacking, screaming, playing.

Playing the game. Feeling the fear. Being terrified. Enjoying every moment. A killing spree, savouring the taste of flesh, the blood, the bile. Licking my lips and breathing the acrid smell deeply through my nostrils. Tastes good. Smells good. The flesh, the spittle, the love and hate, all washing through my senses.

I woke again, skin damp, heart racing, terrified by the familiar shadows in my bedroom. The horror still blended through the edges of darkness and light. I feel the game, in my sweaty palms and shivering spine it's there, coaxing me. Begging me to return.

I feel it coming. I feel it rising out of the darkness and the shadows. It comes. It's not polygons, it's not lighting effects, it's not per-pixel normal mapping, it's Hell. And I want it.


Must… Wait

JIMAROID, August 2004

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