Final Doom

"You've fought your way out of the infested exterimental labs. It seems that UAC has once again gulped it down. With their high turnover, it must be hard for poor old UAC to by corporate health insurance nowadays.. Ahead lies the military complex, now swarming with diseased horrors hot to get to their teeth into you. With luck, the complex still has some warlike ordnance laying around."

"You hear the grinding of heavy machinery ahead. You sure hope they're not stamping out new hellspawn, but you're ready to ream out a whole herd if you had to. They might be planning a bloodfeast, but you feel about as mean as two thousand maniacs packed into one mad killer. You don't plan to go down easy."

"What now? Looks totally different. Kind of like King Tut's Condo. Well, whatever's here can't be any worse than usual. Can it? Or maybe its best to let sleeping god's lie.."

"Time for a vacation. You've burst the bowels of Hell and by golly you're ready for a break. You mutter to yourself, maybe someone else can kick Hell's ass next time around. Ahead lies a quiet town, with peaceful flowing water, quaint buildings, and presumably no hellspawn. As you step off the transport, you hear the stomp of a Cyberdemon's iron shoe."

"The vista opening ahead looks damn familiar, smells familiar, too -- like a fried excrement. You didn't like this place before, you sure as Hell ain't planning to like it now. The more you brood on it, the madder you get, hefting your gun, an evil grin trickles onto your face. Time to take some names."

"Suddenly, all is silent, from one horizon to the other. The agonizing echo of Hell fades away, the nightmare sky turns to blue, the heaps of monsters corpses start to evaporate along with the evil stench that filled the air. Jeeze, maybe you've done it. Have you really won? Something rumbles in the distance. A blue light begins to glow inside the ruined skull of the Demon-Spitter."

"You gloat over the steaming carcass of the guardian. With its death, you've wrested the accelerator from the stinking claws of Hell. You relax and glance around the room. Damn! There was supposed to be at least one working prototype, but you can't set. The demons must have taken it. You must find the prototype, or all your struggles will have been wasted. Keep moving, keep fighting, keep killing. Oh yes, keep living, too."

"Even the deadly Arch-vile labyrinth could not stop you, and you've gotten to the prototype accelerator which is soon efficiently and permanently deactivated. You're good at that kind of thing."

"You've found the second hardest level we got. Hope you have a saved game a level or two previous. If not, be prepared to die aplenty. For master marines only."

"Betcha wondered just what the hardest level we had ready for ya? Now you know. No one gets out alive."

"You've bashed and battered your into the heart of the devil-hive. Time for a search-and-destroy mission, aimed at the Gatekeeper. Whose foul offspring is cascading to earth. Yeah. He's bad, but you know who's worse! Grinning Evilly. You check your gear, and get ready to give the bastard a little hell of your own making!"

"The Gatekeeper's evil face is splattered all over the place. As its tattered corpse collapses, An inverted gate firms and sucks down the shards of the last prototype accelerator, not to mention the few remaining demons. You're done. Hell has gone back to pounding bad dead folks instead of good live ones. Remember to tell your grandkids to put a rocket launcher in your coffin. If you go to Hell when you die, you’ll need it for some final cleaning-up..."