Wolfenstein 3D

Before Return to Castle Wolfenstein there was Halflife, before Halflife Quake, before that Doom, and before Doom? Wolfenstein 3D


ID Software

The grandaddy of all games involving big guns, endless bad guys, and truly classic stereotyping, Wolf3D, let’s face it, is a bit doddery: graphically it’s a little grey around the temples, the pixelated models look like Pop-art and the game is still banned in germany for its use of nazi symbolism. Despite all this, install it and you’ll find it has that ‘4.30 in the morning, knuckles white on the mouse, nerves on a hair-trigger, terrified in case an SS trooper shouts “Achtung” behind you’ addictiveness about it.

It’s 1943. You are Captain William “B.J.” Blazkowicz (stop the sniggering at the back there), the allies’ master of espionage and bi . Allied Command have heard rumours that a mad nazi scientist called Dr Schabbs (original plot device, we know) is planning to raise an army of the dead using doubtlessly entirely rigourous scientific method. Perturbed by the reports you were dispatched. You were nobbled trying to escape withthe blueprintsand imprisoned in the infamous Castle Wolfenstein.


Shoot the Dog!

Choose your difficulty level: even by today’s standards “I am Death Incarnate” is best avoided… Whichever you choose you’ll start with a kinfe and a pistol (their former owner doesn’t look like he’ll need them any more) If you walk down the corridor you’ll find a normal trooper who hasn’t noticed you yet. Pop a round into his head, and he’ll go down. The next paid-up party member you’ll encounter will be a dog – they normally hide right behind doors, so watch out! They’ll try to bite you, and they move quickly and they try and dodge your shots – don’t waste your ammo, just shoot them when they’re about to bite.

There are ten levels in this demo version, and further fifty in the full game. Several of these can only be accessed by another of Wolf’s innovations: carefully concealed secret doors. If you look appreciatively at the tasteful decoration on the walls, you might notice some suspicious bits; if you hit space on them, you’ll find that some move. Behind them there’s anything from Nazi Memorabilia (I’m talking gold cups, not photos of the fuhrer’s trip to blackpool) through health, ammo and hidden weapons, to those secret levels. Claustrophobics beware; the walls of secret rooms do have a nasty tendency to close in on you.

Fight your way out through SS machine gunners, highly-trained attack pinschers, and a john-prescott lookalike double-chaingun toting german called Hans Grosse, and you’ll be free. practically a history lesson?


Arrow keys – movement

alt – hold down to strafe

space – opens doors/secret rooms

control – shoots

1-4 change weapons

esc – menu screen

His bark’s worse than his bite. That’s 8-bit sound for you…

Walkthrough – Tools of the trade

Yon pistol. Hardly a mauser, but it’s that or the knife

More like it… kill an SS man, and he thoughtfully leave you a pressie

time for the inane grin. The chaingun burns bullets, but if you have to kill absolutely every last…

Duke Nukem 3D

3D Realms

Minimum Spec

486DX2/66, 8 Mb RAM, VGA graphics.

Just another 3D shooter? Don’t you let the Duke hear you say that…

With more grit than an icy motorway, and more cheek than a vegas chorus line, the Duke was the hard man of 3D shooters. Coming from classic 2D platform roots (as replicated in the Duke Nukem: The Manhateen project demo elsewhere in this magazine) he developed a fine line in filth and meaningless B-movie violence not dissimilar to the finest products of Troma studios. In this incarnation, he has to deal with mutant bacon, private dancers, and large amounts of pornography as a substitute for scenery.

To get deeper into this classic comic-book chaos simply strap on those size 13s, and dive in! You’ll start with a small handgun, your boots, and very little idea of what’s going on. If you’re a bit stuck in the game, don’t forget that the Duke loves noting better than blowing down walls with his RPG or pipebombs, which are tucked away in various secrets on this level.

Watch out for the Pig-cop – get hit by his shotgun, and savlon’ll do no good. Run at him, shoot, then jump when he’s about tof ire – hopefully your acrobatics will put him off a little, and you’ll be able pop an apple in his mouth when you land.

(only if first episode – all cheats at http://www.babtech.com/e1secret.html) As a starter if you drop down the vent to the street, jump onto the crate to your right, then to the building slanted ledge. Move to your left and jump through the center window. Grab the RPG ammo. There’s another secret in this room, and one on the ooposiet ledge.


1-9 weapons

Cheat codes


DNSTUFF All weapons, ammo, keys and items

DNWEAPONS All weapons and ammo

DNITEMS All items

DNKEYS All keys


An alien pigcop brandishing shotgun. Show-off.

Toilets. Again. If you give them a go, you’ll get healed a bit and enormously amused.

Moraff’s Momjonng

A game that’s literally hundreds of years old, but looking good for its age

Just like you get old men playing backgammon in greek tavernae and old men playing cards in american diners, go into any chinese restaurant and they’re morally obliged to keep two old men gambling in the back room over mahjong. Momjonng is a derivation of that refined game, with the developers trying to move it away from the elderly tea drinker and more to the soccer mom, and her offspring.

At first glance the game isn’t too complicated. The objective is to find and remove tiles in pairs from the layout, much like the traditional game. Skill comes in in knowing which ones to remove so the other player is stymied, and you get an extra try, or rather, money.

tiler what?

As it’s for moms and their offspring the gambling element has been played down just a touch; instead as you remove matching pairs you’re rewarded with extra options for the game. Take away enough rapidly enough and you’ll be given extra musical, or background options. There’s also a hint section if you can’t see a move, and

Finally as it’s made of computer graphjis and not bamboo you’re not starving pands, which cna only be a good thing.

It offers a tile set topped with cute kiddie crayon graphics in the traditional pyramid layout. As you remove tiles, options are available for classical background music, timing, tile count, and hints to show possible moves. You can get a reshuffle of remaining tiles whenever the kids get stumped, and you can choose an “always possible” game guaranteed to make it possible to remove all the tiles. An autoplay mode lets you examine some of the many layouts available if you purchase the ‘Jongg CD Collection which offers many more tile sets, music and graphics.

Begorrah, the day has come, my will be done, on earth you’ve placed this heathen.

Excuse the religious-associative text, but I’ve finally been embarrassed into writing again. I was trying to avoid it I guess, just subsume my mental processes into a round of drink, games and a little of the other. But I keep finding myself having thoughts I don’t want to lose (like anybody but me cares if they go) and scribbling them down on the backs of envelopes, grabbing fliers off students, buying magazines and inscrawling them. As it is, my little origami memes end up piled on my desk or just tipped away. I’m losing so much.

So, brothers and sisters, the theme for today’s sermon, spread the lard, is ‘classification: or the fitting of an new personality into an established stereotype. How and why it’s another pet hate oh mio, o’ mine.’

Actually I can’t be arsed. It’s my birthday in two days, I’m building myself a computer nad I have far too much to do this lunchtime to finagle with such tchotkes.

So summary instead: Internal of person initially = tabula rasa + predispositions – Leibniz described as veins in marble. Perception of others of external appearance and mistakes builds personality: forms initial personality. Alternative structures for bringing up in mean people don’t fit stereotype personality wise in certain situations – every time I move to new place, people try and force me into something I don’t feel I should be restricted to. Damn this ain’t no summary – Brian bring down the curtain.

Oooh… comic plot – which I hearby copyright, pending offers. Bunch of Philosopher superheroes (Y’know the lens-polishers – Spinoza, Leibniz, Descartes, John Dee and his weapon salve, that Rabbi and his golem) fighting templars and the less philosophically rigourous throughout C17th – plot based loosely on Candide – but starts with Pangloss skinned, being tortured in flame-ridden environment, before chin being grabbed, and far too toothy mouth leering close, saying “still think this is the best of all possble worlds, Dr Pangloss?” Next page cut to mouth similarly positioned breathing on lens, vaguely pob-esque… thoughts?

Every day I hurry on the way to my perceived work past what Les Routiers (Levenshulme’s premier chip gourmand) shurely must call ‘Bath’s finest eating establishment’; McDonald’s. And every night I stroll back past, and think “I could really do with soaking my heart in a big hunk of fat.” This, despite what I’ve read in the papers, despite the hearsay, despite the book I read of the massed factories mulching up meat and potatoes and the quality of those goods, and the total amorality of the original desperate entrepeneurs.

Further it is also the fact that every morning I shudder as I pass the bins where the food is thrown every five minutes. The smell diffusing from these great steaming red and yellow tubs is the same uric dampness that you find on a tramp on the way out: slow death. It reminds the passerby that every chip, every glob of extralipid mayo, is a few more seconds off the dead end of you, the bits of collapsing bowels and kidneys that we all want to miss really. No-one wants to die: some people prefer it to a slow degeneration: but if we have to die (and we do, whatever you think comes after) then we all want to go cleanly.

What we mean by clean varies considerably. Some think it literally. Some think quick and painless. Popstars addled by antidepressants and t’ cult o’ celebrity think it means young. Businessmen doubtless think it is with their misdemeanours undiscovered. Academics think the same, but relish the thought of a posthumous discovery of their personality (á la john major and his political life). The religious think it is whatever fits in with their arbitrary (but society-supporting) moral code, be it not having chewed bacon rind or having used someone else to bloody their hands. Your mother thinks it’s with clean knickers on.

However you opine, on one thing everyone but Elvis agrees: we don’t want to be burgered to death.

Next time: how this relates to Plato’s concept of ‘akrasia’ (incontinence)

too many thoughts, not enough sleep. Article title “How can you be pregnant and stylish?” in the increasingly small c conservative Guardian – how can you be so fatuous yet run the country’s media, and be the progenitor of the next generation of that bubbleheaded capital elite? Drives me to tears, I tell ya.