I fired up Doom: The Dark Ages, braced for nonstop slaughter-demons splintering, shotguns barking, the usual cathartic blur of red and metal. What hit me instead was a tangle of ancient backstory that drags the series rifle-first into campfire-story territory. The pitch-one step back in time, before Doom (2016) and its sequel-is supposed to cast fatal sunlight on the Doomslayer's ghosts and the primal war between heretics, clockwork seraphs, and man. Instead, the adventure thuds onward like mud-caked boots on stone, every piece slapping the next with little grace. Plot twists pile up-betrayals, half-heard prophecies, gluttonous bids for cosmic juice-and after a while, you catch yourself missing the elegant brevity of a Mars touchdown, a bloodbath, and an early flight home. Long, lore-choked cutscenes scuttle the game’s heartbeat, turning what ought to be spine-chilling world-building into a wool sweater strangling Urdak’s throat.
Soaring High Falls Flat: Dragon Mount Gameplay
The moment I board a dragon, the game's earlier talk of total aerial freedom sounds a bit hollow. One instant, you're the jittery, undisputed king of the clouds, hammering hell-carriers and torching titans from the inside out. Loop three slides by, and the pulse starts to slacken; what was wild now feels like running the same old troops through a smoky treadmill. Those atlan-mech fire-ups stick a spasm into the otherwise relentless on-foot brawl. I'll admit, like all players who buy PS5 games, I growled with delight when the great reptilian scales shifted under me. By the fourth dive-bomb, I was squinting at the horizon, wading for boots-on-gravel chaos all over again.
The Circular Saw: A Bladed Greeting and Seeing Hell Blink
Doom fans can feel the rush when the electric whine cuts back in. The trimmed, polished wheel practically hums with sadistic promise. Bone snaps like a dry branch, muscle parts with a cruel pop, and those sounds settle into your ribs long after the screen goes dark. Drop a trio of winged sentinels and watch time crawl; gore spins slowly, almost daintily, like confetti caught in slow-mo. Cycle the weapon through one more wave, though, and the thrill dulls, the polish wears off, and you're left listening to the same, tired buzz.
Shield Bash Mechanics Revitalize Combat
It isn't just padding and metal; this thing is a slab of iron covered in glowing runes and fitted with a stout, retractable grappling hook that yawns over ledges like it owns the night sky. Fire a bash at a scuttling imp, watch its head bounce off the nearest stone, and for a second, the only sound in your ears is the dull grind of bone on the rock. Swing the same buckler at a hulking demon, and the impact thuds up your arm as if someone dropped a boulder into a tar pit. Grasping the rhythm turns leftover corridors into a circus ring; pillars become launch pads, arch-vile pyres become unwanted wall decorations, and a single heartbeat can slip you across half a cathedral. Combat stops feeling like a panicked sprint-you dash, you strike, you realign-and when the dust settles, it looks more like you choreographed the slaughter than clipped its wings on a whim.
Fluid Combat, Rhythm, and Movement
Between a quick shield bash and plain old strafing, DOOM: The Dark Ages gives deliberate rhythm the same starring role Doom Eternal once threw confetti at. You pick calculated bursts, not gastric-acid speed, and trust the trade feels dignified. I once lured a flock of Cacodemons into a hallway so pinched they couldn't decide whether to flinch or feast. One hard dash through their wobbly center turned that corridor into fireworks cheap enough to light the change in my pockets. The pulse in my neck yelled the same thing it always screams: aggression is useful only if feedback shows up for work. Maybe the newer game never quite hits highway speed, yet its slower choreography makes timing and precision earn a seat at the front table.
Gothic splendor lives in every corner of the DOOM: The Dark Ages. Tornado-slashed moats, blue-glowing runes, domes so high they feel sewn to a stormy sky. The scale inspires, but now and then, the size trips up the flow of play. One throne room nearly swallowed me whole; the camera stuck in the ceiling while demons popped in behind my back. Time lost there is always expensive. Another moment, a weighty juggernaut fell from the rafters, and sparks flew, only for smaller hellions to clog the floor like broken glass. Suddenly, uncovering my next move felt like reading a map in a thunderstorm. Its gorgeous scenery pulls the eyes, yet that very beauty can elbow precision out of the way. Something tighter and plainer would probably hit harder.
Super Shotgun fans will grin as soon as the familiar thump fills the room. The Plasma Rifle still sprays neon panic, and the Heavy Cannon snaps like a branch underfoot, comforting sounds by this point. Small perks-chips like speedier reloads and a toggle for extra firewrists tighten around old favorites rather than remaking them outright. Late in the trek, the Maw of Malmortius drops, a meaner brother to every oversized machete survival game out as legendary. I jammed the curved blade into a hellish boss's chest, sparks flying on every split-second slash, and even cheered out loud, dumb but honest. Back in the grime of regular runs, though, the friendlier shield-bash-sawed combo yanked me home. Swipe a variety of toys with you, but the shield always zips back to the center.
Boss Encounters: Peaks of Frenzy, Valleys of Repetition
Boot up a fresh session, and without much warning, the screen turns into a writhing carpet of tentacles and fire-red projectiles. I still remember the rain-soaked courtyard where a lumbering demon lord pinned me to my seat; my knuckles went bone-white around the plastic. Eventually, the pyrotechnics settle into a predictable rhythm: learn the stomp, dodge the crack, and repeat until you're numb. Part of me kept hoping the game would ditch the rehearsal notes and let the arena break loose, yet every spike of intensity was neatly choreographed-right fun, but still a touch too polite.
Performance: Rock-Solid or Fractured?
Silently, I tested it on a mid-range rig; 60 fps kept its word at 1440p, even through the worst firestorm. Loading screens disappeared before I had time to stretch my fingers, which is good because the momentum begs for that instant return. Textures of DOOM: The Dark Ages puff into view a beat too late inside the showier halls, and shadows sometimes blink like faulty neon. Nothing catastrophic, thank the gaming, just those small glitches that remind you the engine is older than your last laptop. The immersion never snapped, yet every tiny hiccup whispered, Look closely; we're still here.
Multiplayer and Endgame: Ticking Clock or Timeless Mayhem?
Jump into a lobby, and the wave-based arenas roar to life, echoing the old-Horde adrenaline that helped Doom 3 snag its cult following. Pick-up matches boast that arcade bite, but the matchmaking engine crawls while you stare at an empty schedule. Rune farming props up Endgame progression, and the glittery cosmetics hand you something to aim for, yet the core unlocks barely remodel the toolbox. Hours stacked up as I nudged my name higher on the board, waiting for the perfect run when every shield bash hummed. Eventually, the record skipped: the grind looped back, and fresh enemies or shuffled maps were still missing in action.
Strictly speaking, the build is already history, fixed at the close of October twenty-three. Technical wrinkles-odd frame dips during the final arena-run-vanished on the second patch, so in the end, frame timing held steady. The new shield-bash move offers a kind of warp-speed geometry that felt fresher than half the traversal tricks I tried last year. Some players hit the brakes early, swearing the engine was too loud, but my rig never howled louder than a clipped fan. Four days in, the hard drive bars still show open space, and Quiet just shrugs at the excess.
Doom: The Dark Ages doesn't serve up the nonstop carnage that older entries made their trademark, and it certainly isn't the tidy, plot-driven epic the marketing promised. I regret players who buy cheap PS4 games cannot enjoy this game, but by now, most players switched to the new generation of consoles. Picture a burnt-up patchwork quilt, part thrash-metal encore, part story draft skimming for a Pulitzer, held together by the very energy shield that launches you into hell's foyer. If you want new combat tricks and can let the lore wobbles slide, you may alternate between wide-eyed glee and taut-jawed annoyance. One shield slam through a snarling mob will carve the thrill into your bones and, maybe more painfully, into your memory.
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