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20.12.23

Tank workshopping beyond the Eastern border

The base hull

This time I decided to tell the story of the tank's story in larger and not-predefined sections, maybe a session at a time but in a single post. Otherwise this project would in the worst case progress maybe two, three pieces and a spot of paint a week.

Upper hull and the road wheels

Being the obedient builder I am, I started with the first pre-step by building subassemblies before the first actual building step. That meant that I assembled the exhaust pipes, glued some strenght-providing triangles into the upper rear corners, and build all the [road|idler]wheels and drive sprocets. Those didn't take time, I just sanded the edges clean after detaching from the sprues.

In the first step all I was told to do was to glue the exhaust pipes on, and add a couple of engine intake vents to the sides. The hull part felt a bit flimsy, but I trusted that I could get any possible grimacing kept in check.

 

What I found a bit baffling was that the lower hull – or as the Germans called it, die Panzerwanne – was built out of four separate pieces. The bottom piece that also included the lower front glacis plate was a bit curved so when I was gluing the sides onto it, I had to do it in stages. The rear end's lower angled part was a bit difficult to attach as its neighbours were grinning so much that there wasn't much contact surface available. That would be fixed with some putty later on, when I had the final shape down.

 

While the lower hull was curing, I started with the next steps: the driver's hatch and the gun barrel. My biggest concern here was the gun's tip, I didn't want the business end to droop lazily at an angle.

Of course I was dry-fitting the roadwheels onto the lower hull as soon as the pieces were ready for it. They fit in nicely, but I wasn't going to glue them in anytime soon. The upper hull details were easily and nicely installed, so no problems there either at this point. For the record, I didn't even think of leaving the hatch open because there was absolutely nothing inside the tank.

Combining the hull halves

Dry-fitting the upper and lower halves revealed an amount of ugly gaps. With my tools I had no chance of getting it all set in place in one go, so again I did the gluing in stages.

First I glued the front edges together and pressed them tightly together. It had a funny eyepatch-wearing duck-like face. Yarr!

I moved on towards the back of the tank, gluing a lenght of a tank at a time and pressing until the glue had set. The problem here was that these two halves had strangely few contact points between them!

In the lower photos you could see the gaps in the front, even though the glacis plate edge was pretty tightly pressed shut. Maybe my side armour plates had been fractions of a millimeter off in the end, but I obviously didn't know that when I was originally gluing them in place.


My tank's rear end looked like a depressed frog. Closing that gap would require something hefty, maybe I could bridge that opening with a few slices of styrene or even mostly closed it. The hood's hinges would suffer, because I obviously didn't think of removing them in advance.

The 76mm gun in its turret

Assembling the gun was simple. I attempted to build it so that the elevation could be played with later on, but if the axle got glued in one position, that's how life went. There was really little poking these afterwards, anyway.


The turret itself was simple but I was again a bit baffled how weakly its armoured sides and the bottom were connected. Baffled, I tell you. There were no insides here, so the tank was going to be buttoned up.

Thanks to my lighting conditions these photos didn't show how the steel surface had been modeled pretty interestingly. First I thought that I had made a mess on it with glue or something, but no, the surface texture was very peculiar on purpose. That was a fun detail, I was looking forward to seeing it painted up.

All the vents, periscopes, pistol ports and handles got glued in slowly and carefully. Those handles especially were really flimsy, I could've always ignored them by drilling holes into the turret and bent some wire to replace them. But that way I'd lost the funky design that was perfect for a hurrying soldier to get caught by their pocket, belt or some other loop.

Getting the turret-lifting loops to point generally in the same direction had to be the most challenging part here. I was a bit afraid that one or more of them were going to snap at some point, but despite my concerns each survived the process. The photo above also finally showed some of the texture I mentioned earlier.

This finished the turret already. The gun barrel could, in fact, be manipulated by a few degrees.

Tracks

Now I fetched my cheapest and worst flathead screwdriver from the toolbox, lit a candle and started heating up the tooltip above the flame. I connected the first track halves and pressed them tightly together with (round-tipped) tweezers while I pressed the hot screwdriver tip to melt the plastic bit. Then I flipped the track around 180° and repeated it, sealing one of the tracks. And then the same operation was repeated for the other two-part track.

While I was on a roll I then closed the loops and sealed both of the tracks. I had been pondering for a bit if I should first paint them and then seal them, or vice versa. As you could tell by the description, I had decided to paint them fully closed so I wouldn't have to suffer with the issues of sealing painted plastic.

While I was playing with fire I decided to get rid of the antenna creation step as well. The instructions said that I ought to cut a six-centimeter bit off a sprue, heat it, stretch it long and narrow, and then cut off a six-centimeter bit to act as an antenna.

I didn't find it quite as easy, being somewhat inexperienced with this exact process, so my second attempt gave this kind of a maybe 40mm long bit. Large country, large tolerances, they said. I didn't install it yet because I wanted to store the incomplete model in its box, protected from dust as long as possible.

 

Deck decorations I

Most of the tank's parts were now done as far as I could install them at this point before painting. I also had to install the bits based on what I could any given evening and what time allowed. While something was curing I juggled the project by working on something else meanwhile. In a way that slowed the progress for individual steps but kept me doing something so the overall pace was kept better.

A pair of these boxes were destined for the rear deck. While assembling them I wasn't quite sure if I could glue them in place before installing the tracks or not.


 

These towcable hooks looked mean enough to impale some dissidents on them. Or perhaps some deer or warthogs for an ad-hoc lunch.


Gap filling

Outside the all-seeying eye of my phone camera I glued on some toolboxes, a saw, something that looked like a horn, and the searchlight as well. Then I decided to work on something much more tedious but important: I glued a series of narrow bits of styrene onto the inside of the rear hull, inserting the bits through the gap. The idea with these was to fill in the massive gap, but also to provide more ground for the soon-to-be-added putty, so that I didn't end up shooting a tubeful of that into the tank and still have a gap to fill.

I didn't have handily available the styrene that was half-thick, so I let it be. The frog/troll ended up looking funnier than before. After having my giggles I applied a bunch of sillily quickly setting putty (Gunze Mr Hobby: Mr White Putty) and left it to dry.

While puttying around I also filled up the gaps in the front, as far as I felt it made sense. While taking a photo of the model upside down I noticed I could've also filled the narrow gaps in the mudguards but I had time if I only remembered the next time.

At worst this was going to take a few cycles. Next I'd sand/file away the dry putty, and if I opened up something again or found out new holes, I'd repeat this but with much less putty and on a smaller surface. And oh boy, was there a lot to do. But that's how I had to putty the T-35 a few years ago.

Sanding the front edge was pretty easy and problemless, the sides were much more bothersome. My four-surfaced nail sander was a bit too bulky, and so were my files.

Then the problem child, the rear end. Here the issue was the amount of crap around the gap. The lower surface was pretty easy, but the upper one not so much with the exhaust pipes and the bolt row. In one session I got it somewhat cleaned up, the next time I'd get on it with the file for somewhat more pinpointed work. I was a bit afraid that the bolt ends were going to disappear and that I had to come up with a replacement.

Deck decorations II

Now I went back to gluing extra piece on the tank. The upper glacis plate got a short length of a track on it, without any sort of a visible attachment method. Maybe there just was something that the track part just lied on freely.

Both the left and right rear corners got a two-link spare track part, not joined together but funnily stacked. This wasn't too clear from the image in the instructions, and I wasn't quite sure based on the model itself how it was actually supposed to work in real life. Most likely somehow wedging them into the edges of the tank or something, so I just glued them as they fell and it was going to be on the viewer's brain to tell the story.

I decided to glue the mystery boxes onto the tank, they were a bit weakly attached but seemed to stay in place. The left one might benefit from a touch of putty, or at least its corner looked a bit grungy.


At this point the only missing engineering tool was the shovel pair and I glued it onto the right side of the tank. Of course the outward facing parts of the shovelholders had visible dimples on them.

I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to fight with the superflimsy handles on the upper edge. Maybe I just had to glue them in, the tank would look better with them than without.

Now my basic T-34 was only missing some metallic hokos from the front and rear end, the tow cables, and a couple of wooden boxes. My biggest issue here was my severly limited hobby time. With the boxes I was also teetering a bit between if I did or didn't want them to just hang around, but I felt I was somehow leaning on doing them. All the little things made the tank more alive.

Deck decorations III

A few days later I got to build again. Not much was left, like I was thinking above. 

At some point I had been wondering what was the A15 piece left alone in the sprue because I didn't remember it from the instructions. After a bit of a go-through I found out the corner it was marked in, it was the antenna mount. I sanded both of the attaching surfaces a bit rougher so they'd glue better. Also, those high-strung handles were sickeningly flimsy but they did remain in place.

 

Both of the towcables were left on the right side of the tank, these were just straight bits with no sag or any planned shape or form. I roughly followed the instructions and tried to get them set in a semi-believable way on the mudguard, even if I expected that in reality they'd behave a bit more cable-like, especially from the toolbox on.

These two wooden boxes weer supposed to be next and kind of on top of each other, on the right side of the tank. That's where the first one went, but I threw the second one on the left side and a bit offset as well. This felt visually nicer to me, it kept the left side from being almost completely empty while the right one would've been like a hoarder's home.

Ah, and I had happily forgotten those four tiny bits by the tow cable hooks. Ignoring this omission I was happily dry-fitting the wheelery. Without their locking bolts they fell immediately off if the model wasn't exactly flat. Well, at least I didn't have to use violence to force them (the wheels) in place.

While I was fooling with the model I also tested out the turret. It looked like a proper T-34 now, and I was thinking how to paint the wheel area the best way. While looking at this photo I got an idea: I'd paint the wheels separately as almost always, but while painting the hull I'd push the lock bits in place so they'd also get a decent and correct paintjob at the same time.

The final flimsy bits

Now I remembered them and installed the four identical tiny pieces on the opposite sides of each of the towcable hooks. I wasn't 100% sure that they went exactly as instructed, but I just couldn't see any better. These, finally, were the last missing pieces of the T-34/76 itself, excluding the antenna but like I have said, it was intentionally left last.

While the hooks were curing I used some time to sand and file the hood a bit more. Had I foreseen this, I would've left the exhaust pipe installation to a much later stage, so they wouldn't have been on the way and I could've just brutally filed the end of the tank clean. But how could I have predicted it?

In any case I couldn't clean the back end perfectly, it was left with some gunk. That I could later on cover with mud or other goo, so a small amount of crap wasn't be a problem nor visible underneath.

Just a while earlier I was thinking of the locking bolts for the road wheels. I detached and cleaned them all, then I wiggled them onto their axles. Maybe before airbrushing I should mask the cylinder parts so gluing them into the roadwheels would be simpler.

So there, the shockingly many weeks were spent on the calendar and the building process for the tank was now complete. If you found the text, or its flow, in this post a bit unusual, I was writing this whenever I had built something and edited my photos. So whenever I was referring to "the last time", or "earlier", I may have been talking about the previous week even if it was just the previous paragraph in the text itself.

The next time I was going to work on the external tool, known as the mine roller. Perhaps that setup was buildable within a decent amount of time, perhaps it was going to cause an indecent amount of swearing. There was only one way to find out.

13.12.23

Project IV/23

T-34/76 with mine rollers

It wasn't that long since I got this set (with paints!), I had decided to take it on the project table right after the 'Mechs. Now that I was thinking of it, I haven't made that many Zvezda models in total, and only one of them has been a tank, the T-35 a few years ago.


I was certain that this was going to be a fun build, if nothing else, the mine roller setup would be a very interesting subassembly. Beforehand my biggest question mark was the set of paints, and how they'd behave in my airbrush.

Guidelines

Who knew what had happened to me in the last decades but lately I've started everything with the instructions. Enough mistakes and disasters under my belt, perhaps?




The general painting instructions didn't seem too bothersome, mostly they wanted me to paint it green. I hadn't thought of it one bit, because it was mostly going to be Soviet green anyway. Right now the topmost winterish one intrigued me the most, but like I said, a basic green would also work just fine.

Decals were surprisingly few in number. Four different unit numbers, a tactical sign, three silly red stars and a catchphrase.

The catchphrase intrigued me, as I wasn't known for my skills in Russian. The second word did start with "Rod" and as I somehow knew that motherland was "rodina", I anchored into that. Maybe it could have said "for the motherland!" or something like it? Our friend, the G translated me after a couple of attempts that "to motherland" == "На Родину" and if you ignored the first character that looked like a number three, it was pretty much that. Did it mean "Let's go home!" or "You go home!"? I had no idea but was left wondering.

A bit later I played with the translator, as the phrase kept bothering me. The text was supposed to be Za Rodinu - for the motherland. So I guessed decently, even though confirming it required searching for proper cyrillic letters and playing backwards from there.

 

Piece sets

Hmh. Floppy tracks in four acts, two per side. These would be funny, they were even painted metallic and that was new to me. Obviously we couldn't leave them like that, but it was fun.

Thinking really hard I thought I had maybe had a model with this kind of a two-part tracks, but usually they had been one per side. Never in the history of anything had they been nice, that was for sure.

 

Getting to the tank parts themselves, they looked like a normal amount of pieces. A couple of sprues for the wheels, the turret and its gun in one, apparently the lower hull ate one sprue, then the specialty of this kit came in a few sprues: two for the mine rollers and one for the attachment setup. And the top hull was separately inside the box.

I didn't expect anything weird here. My pareidolia made me chuckle at the expression of the turret, and then I got staring at the armoured tub: it consisted of a few separate pieces unlike Tamiya (or the one Takom) kits. Maybe it had enough support structure so that it didn't start scowling like the Hero of the Work on a Monday morning.

10.12.23

Doom 30y

Happy thirtieth birthday, Doom! Of course this was a milestone I was going to recognize out loud, I was a child of the eighties, after all, and an avid gamer since I had something to play with.

⚠️ beware: ramblings of a middle-aged nerd ⚠️

Before Doomsday

What did we have before Doom and what did we gaming kids get excited about? At home we had a few years old 286 with an EGA display and the pc-squeaker, and Wolfenstein 3-D:s shareware version was maybe the most impressive of the action games it could run. As long as you shrunk the screen a bit. For some reason me and my friends played the not-too-stable alpha version of Wolf. Of the other Apogee games we spent a sick amount on Keen 1 and 2. And in case you, dear reader, didn't have to experience the wonders of PC-speaker: it made awful noises and foul screeches at best, so we usually had the sounds off.

At that point in history I was just a bit older than Project Assistant I is now. How ridiculous was that?

My classmate Mikko (and his older brother) had a fresher computer (486 + SoundBlaster Pro), we went in batches to their apartment to witness noisy, violent games like Syndicate and Space Hulk. I still remember clearly how Mikko was explaining to me at the school yard that they had the newest game of the Wolfenstein people, how it had indoor, outdoor spaces, lights, many weapons, windows, up/down moving doors and walls, and lifts! Being used to that entering a lift in Wolfenstein meant that you proceeded to the next level, I asked if you could go back to where you were before and what sort of witchcraft was this?

Yeah, the point of this silly example was to describe what a huge change in games Doom was. A young child couldn't imagine all that was described without seeing. For one reason or another I never went to Mikko's to play or even watch someone else play Doom, and I couldn't remember any kind of an explanation.

My own Doomsday

Funnily enough there were three of us classmates that got a new multimedia computer (hah!) at their homes at about the same time. Ours was a Compaq Presario 720, which translated into a 486SX/66/4 with a double-speed cd drive (our computer's memory was doubled and then redoubled to maximum over some years), I guess it had a ~600MB hard drive that felt endless for some time. My namesake's family was the first of us to get there, so at his place I saw and especially heard Doom for the first time.

This view became quite familiar over the years

Here we had a serious risk of me using cliches and exaggerations, but what could I do: Doom blew up my mind and pulled my legs from under my own self. Nothing, and I meant absolutely fucking nothing has ever made a comparable impression in gaming during the next three decades.

If you didn't hear At Doom's Gate right now, you may have gone beyond all help

The monsters were making and awful racket in the darkness, the lights strobed and blinked, then there were some mofos throwing fireballs from beyond a poison pit! Staircases, lifts, yards, computer rooms. And that was the first level only, between the levels there was a cool map that showed where you just were and where were you heading. To help getting lost there was an automap so you didn't need to try to draw your own maps anymore. Nope, none of this could be imagined if Wolfenstein was the epitome of 3d in your brain.

The tiniest details have been devoured by the looming dementia, but the computer with 4MB RAM (and Bill Gate's infamous 512kB) forced you to fight with boot disks (did someone actually miss poking autoexec.bat and config.sys? Unlikely) to even get a game running. Could've been that the shareware Doom's older versions were more prone to crash as well, because in the earliest of my Doom memories it was pretty common that the game just crashed in the middle of the one and only episode and just dropped you back to DOS.

Wads and editors

At some point soon we also got a new computer and of course its sound card (an integrated ESS Audiodrive) made everyone go ooh and aah with the smooth sounds. The first amazer was Prince of Persia with its music, and I was pretty much the only one who was endlessly amused by the death screams of the nazis in Wolfenstein. And then there were the countless hours of Doom (and later Doom II) that echoed around the apartment.

Back in the mid-nineties being online wasn't quite what it is today, when you had to call with your 14400 baud modem to someplace (after five, due to the cheaper local calls) like a BBS or something, if you wanted to find files. Mostly my age group's big brothers were the ones who knew things and we younglings just shuffled floppies full of good levels in the sneakernet. Or then someone (or their parents) bought one of those megacds that had hundreds of wads, and those were a source of good levels if they happened to work.

I mostly played random levels or levelpacks, or fooled around replacing sounds with dmaud, mostly I changed things to be pretty stupid. Level editing (with DEU) looked too complicated to me, who was used to Wolfenstein's mapedit. Pics for comparison:


https://github.com/robilic/DEU

At some point I discovered DeHackEd that allowed to tweak Doom's internal params. Very few pwads came with .deh changes, but they did exist. The biggest issues with cool conversion projects like Star Wars Doom or Aliens Doom was that they were mostly found as a zipfile (or an .arj, which I preferred) full of individual .wad files and that gave you a part of the full experience. It was a long way to proper TCs, and I wasn't deep enough in this to get too far with my trial and error approach.

Retail Doom

I had to admit that I got a full version of Doom from a friend at school at some point back in the day. The fact that no one in my circles had no practical way of register Doom in those days was just that, an excuse. Later I've bought Doom a few times (the cd releases of Ultimate Doom, Doom II, and I think I got Final Doom and maybe the Master Levels as gifts from friends, then I have bought the classic Doom games in Steam and finally I also bought Doom for the Switch as well because why not?). Maybe that compensated a bit afterwards.

The shareware version wasn't enough for a while, because I and everyone else wanted to get the next two episodes and especially to experience BFG-9000. At some point Doom got updated to 1.9 that added the fourth episode.

I guess you could imagine how disappointed and displeased I was already as a preteen that one couldn't get a Doom t-shirt in this buttcrack of the planet. Luckily the current owner of the rights sells these logo shirts and the original cover art t-shirts even to people like myself. I just wished I could tell the young ISD that "worry not, when you're grown up you've got a few of these and even your colleagues love them" but being a bit of a cynical little bastard, I most likely wouldn't have believed.

ATDT090001234

Ah, the crappy old times and the issues with connections. We had to agree who calls whom, and to keep the rest of the inhabitants far away from the phones because picking up the receiver killed the game. Or if someone answered the call when it was intended for the modem and instead of Doom you heard someone's "hello?". Luckily that was a mostly forgotten thing of the distant past, even though it was lots of fun back in the day.

APCiDoom (https://kangaroopunch.com/software/apcidoom)
 

We didn't play co-operative games much with my then-friend X, not in Doom, Duke Nukem 3d, Heretic nor Hexen. We concentrated on Deathmatch. An insane amount of hours had given us our favourite levels, weapons and most likely our go-to in-game tricks.

For some reason our absolute favourite Deathmatch map was E1M4 "Command Control", and based on some sort of a gentleperson's deal we only used the shotgun and chaingun, because fighting with them was the most fun. At best we spent so long in a single game that the frag counter went around (it was only two-digit, but it took a while to murder your friend a hundred times). I tried to make a sort of a heatmap of the level to show where our usual deathmatching there concentrated on:

 

This realization gave us boys a glorious idea. What if we just removed everything we felt unnecessary and played that way? Like a concentrated arena of death. The first version was quickly done, most of the objects got simply deleted, the doorways leading to the useless areas were blocked by making them impassable and changing the wall textures appropriately. While playing this version we found it fitting to our playing style.

I remembered really clearly poking this one level, but the things following it were much less clear in my mind. Of course I may have been now building some fake memories too, but I think we went through a similar process over a number of the normal levels. Thinking about this afterwards made me believe that most of our "useless area" complaints were caused by the levels being large and on modems we could only play 1vs1 games instead of three- or four-Doomguy massacres.

The pain of creation

At some point a couple of us friends decided that we could poke the level editor a bit more, to go a bit further than just editing the existing levels. Like so many other beginners, I started copying something from the real world. I tried to recreate my friend X's home (he lived in a two-floor rowhouse) both inside and outside while I had no understanding of how not-easy it was going to be - if even possible. Of course I made a sauna, and of course you got more damage the higher up you went. Just. like. in. every. single. Doom sauna. ever.

Somehow this one level "hey, let's make X's home for Deatchmatch" idea developed into a full single-player episode. Two of us made the level editing work, and the third did the filling with items. Planning and playtesting we did tightly together.


📷 (c) Sir Robin

Being unaware of the engine and its limitations we managed to overgrow our levels (IIRC the fifth level started throwing a fatal visplane overflow error when you got to a specific point in the level's critical path). X, being an excited internaut found out a new Doom Source Port – Team TNT's Boom – removed the visplane limit and added tons of cool new features.

📷 (c) Sir Robin

As one would have expected, we started using the new features and tricks excitedly, but the already finished levels had things I complained back in the day and I still hated them, like the third level's one pixel too deep acid pits that you couldn't get out of. Or the invisible impassable linedef in the next screenshot's area - it made no sense without anything blocking, but supposedly "anything else would've looked stupid". Both the first two levels had some illogicalities and some of the universally loathed "if you don't guess in advance that that's unescapable, it's your own fault for being stupid" deathtraps, and I bet we went against a bunch of Romer's original Doom Level Design Basic Rules that we had been oblivious about. We learned to behave on our own during this project of hours, but but... One key issue that we should've thought about was to make the first level last instead of trying to build things sequentially. But that was us then, and it was a quarter of a century ago.

While digging my memories I tried to find some screenshots to show, but I didn't manage to find anything I truly wanted. X was, already at that point, eager to update every place with the latest stuff and hiding anything older than a month, let alone 20+ years.

📷 (c) Sir Robin

After some digging I got to Sir Robin's Castle and he had a review and an astonishing set of 11 screenshots. Those I used because I didn't have anything original quickly available. Here the last photo showed Duke Nukem 3D's (and TNT:Evilution's level 19: "Shipping/Respawning") effect with the real world copying, and that I hadn't fixed the x-offsets of the linedefs even though they were very clearly off. One of the limitations of the editor we used back in the day was, as noticeable, the minimum of 8px separation between vertices.

Silly tests

In addition to our so-called official episode, I had some silliness projects with Z. With those we played with ZDoom's new tricks, effects and features like adding new animated linedefs and sector textures in addition to the pre-existing ones, making some sort of intros and cutscenes with self-recorded voicelines and subtitles, making floating bridges and whatnot.

Then all of it just fell away.

Those ancient silly maps have been lost to /dev/null over the years and computer changes. None of those were published, that I knew.

The itching in the brain

Occasionally I've found myself thinking if I should install both Dooms and the addons (gzdoom as the source port, zeth for level editing and if someone had a better suggestion, I was open for ideas) to see what kind of stupid nonsense I could come up with. Eevee's articleset almost got me off my buttocks last year, but I didn't have time for everything. If I got truly mad, I could even try it on Steam Deck but I wasn't too confident on using the editors without a separate mouse + keyboard.

As a leveltype I've always been most fond of the Techbase levels, which made out most of Knee-deep in the Dead. The Inferno levels were always awfully messy-looking and even ugly (thinking primarily of Mt. Erebus what was chock-full of that animated blue-red wall). So if the inspiration bit me a tiny bit more forcefully and time wasn't so limiting, I could see myself poking at something simple again.

A funny thing, in October I chatted with a colleague about Doom maps and zdoom's craftier tricks. Standing by the stairwell in the lower floor of the office, we started talking how to implement the Room over Room effect in a convincing way in zdoom.

For some reason moving the polyobjects has taken an amount of processing time in my head lately. Not just because they'd allow some funky-ass space doors, but neat bridges over poisonous sludge that would roll sideways out of the wall with its safety fences and all. A bit like the walkway rises in E1M5 Phobos Lab, but much, much neater.

https://ian-albert.com/games/doom_maps/

Anyone reading my nonsense over these many years may have noticed the natural progress of my ponderings at this volume. Now the only problem was - like I said before - time, the most limited resource we had...

Doomed texts

A bit less time-consuming has been my low-burn python3 nonsense, that I was writing just for my own amusement sometime earlier, and that I even commented in the yearly post 2023. This script had no interaction whatsoever, it just randomizes the starting variables and starts running 1vs1 duels between Doomguy and a randomly chosen (the maxIndex for the array grows by one per round until it covers it all) enemy. In these screenshots below I had ended in the latest version, where just about all of the descriptions were set as colour-coded placeholders:

In addition to the basic stats the only important value that was handled was the generic distance, based on which Doomguy and the different enemy classes (close combat enemies like Demons; purely shooting enemies like the Cyberdemon; or those who could do both like the Revenants) chose how to move in that round: trying to get closer to attack / keep the distance /  get further away, and then attack if they could. The stats and such were of course taken from Doomwiki to get the values exactly as they were supposed to be. I did one key change, and that was if Doomguy had the Berserk pack and he was within charging (running) distance -> the weapon was autoswitched to [0] Fist and the distance was driven to 0 so that Doomguy could start ripping and tearing. Adding the capital B into Berserking, that is.

 

My delusional plan was that this would just print slowly (at more or less my reading pace) a continually proceeding story of Doomguy diving deeper into a level, gathering stuff and killing enemies. Even in the earlier and less well-structured code it was much more entertaining than scrolling throuh zwitter, years before the ownership change and what crap followed.

And of course the script kept statistics of how the adventure had gone, how many monsters were slain and so on. While writing this text up I didn't doublecheck, but I remembered that the final row's death description was just as randomized as every other not-Doom-source-based text. Maybe I'd write a silly post about this supremely interesting and silly miniproject in a different post, even if this was just another hat-tip to the original Doom and its effect on me.

 

Final words

No matter how much time has passed and what else I have encountered, Doom has never faded away. You all had your own experiences with it, I surely have anchored myself with it pretty damn tightly.



I wouldn't leave if I were you. DOS is much worse.