Falling through that floor lit a fire in me. Unfortunately, I cannot stand unfairness. The f-word is rarely shrieked as loudly as it was that day, my friends. I almost always gravitate towards the hardest difficulty option when starting any new game.
KOTAKU PERSONAL NIGHTMARE SERIES
The Trials series held me in thrall until Serrels ruined my best run by hitting reset. Firstly, I’ve always loved challenging games. That said, I had a few personal reasons for attempting it. Ultra-Nightmare is fucking ridiculous, is what I’m trying to get across here. (Bethesda didn’t want to risk pissing off the cheevo whores by asking them to do the nearly-unachievable.) Why the hell wouldn’t you? Ultra-Nightmare is such an Everest challenge, it awards no accolade when you beat it. If you’re a completionist, you’ll click ‘yes’, earn the cheevo / trophy that pops when you finish the very first level, and then you stop there. A dialogue pops up and asks: “Are you willing to put yourself through this?” If you fancy a go of Ultra-Nightmare, you’ll be issued a warning fitting of Dante’s Inferno. Maybe you punch a few holes in your living room wall or spit at the TV. If you die while playing it, that’s game Hendrix. Ultra-Nightmare is the mode that Bethesda insists none of its internal testers can beat.
Before we discuss the destination, let’s rewind and map out the journey for you. You know what? I’m getting ahead of myself here. Somebody has released doves.Īctually, I look more like Andy Dufresne, laughing in a torrential thunderstorm, having finally escaped Shawshank prison through a river of shit. I rise from the La-Z-Boy, my arms are outstretched wide to the heavens, like a diver leaving the blocks. In the original vision, my shirt is inexplicably off. This is not how I pictured this moment, and God knows I’ve been imagining it for days. I’m penning this after defeating the Ultra-Nightmare difficulty of Doom (2016) and I’ve never felt more disappointed with myself as a person.
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