And if you succeed, you get to experience it all over again in the next level. Endlessly running around searching for something you missed - a hidden switch here, a crack in a destructible wall there, or a great big Shawshank Redemption-esque tunnel hidden by a pin-up poster - will either drive you to quit, or stoke the fires of your perseverance into a white-hot inferno that’ll have your eyes burning and the wax dribbling out of your ears. It’s easy to wax lyrical about the era of gaming when hand-holding didn’t exist, but some of those games mercilessly sawed your hands off and repeatedly slapped you in the face with them, all the while chanting “Stop hitting yourself!”. It’s in those still, vacuous moments, bereft of plot devices to carry the momentum, and the incessantly looping sound track, that the absence of a narrative can really be felt. As I progressed through the levels, I sometimes found myself at a loss, having slaughtered every bottom-feeding, scum-sucking algae eater in sight and having no clue as to what to do next. The brief plot summary is hidden away in the menus, because although it was imperative that our heroes had a reason for a mass murder spree back then, it didn’t need to be a good one and frankly, we didn’t care what it was as long as he had the weapons to carry it out.
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