Playing the first few levels of Doom, you become used to the murky brown and green colour palette of the game, and the human-sized zombie soldiers and imps who you've blasted your way past with relative easy. That alone makes the sudden sight of a big, pixellated pinky demon gnawing on the other side of the screen glass a shock to behold. You'd also think that after all these years and the technical progress games have made, that you'd be numb to this monstrosity. But play one of the classic Dooms in the lonely, atmospheric conditions I outlined in the intro, and you're guaranteed to expel a gasp, a guff, or something more solid when you suddenly encounter a pinky demon in a narrow corridor. The suspense leading up to a lonely pinky encounter builds up beautifully, as you hear its deep, reverberant grunting and brace yourself for the encounter. You run down one corridor and turn a corner to see nothing, then another corner, nothing, then *GRUNT, GNAW*, it's right in front of you, taking chunks out of you with its hairless bulldog face. Sure, you'll laugh at yourself sheepishly afterwards and certainly won't have nightmares from the experience, but that something so pixellated can still make you twitch after all these years is a testament to the enduring appeal of Doom.