While recently looking through my picture folders that have become bloated thanks to years on the internet I re-stumbled upon what is, in my opinion, probably the funniest video game based comic of all time, Doom.

Printed back in 96’ it follows the nameless, and batshit insane, space marine as he trudges through the military bases on Phobos that have become overrun by undead and the denizens of hell. The main “plot” shows him working his way up through the firearm toting ranks until he finally acquires the penultimate hegemon of bullet propulsion, the BFG. Because everyone should be forced to experience the terrible one-liners and rampant gore I’ve put all 16 pages below for your collective viewing pleasure.



As the [tiny] warning label up-top attests there are indeed large quantities of gore, however the cover art was probably a pretty good tip off to that.



What is there he can’t fix with his hands? NOTHIN



He’s a 12.0 on the 10.0 scale for unnecessary monologues.



Need more BFG.



So he can be a great conversationalist, assuming he has access to motorized saws.



Who needs electricity when you can light up a room with style.



Honestly I’m not sure how healthy his respect for that shotgun really is…



…oh, never mind, he’s already tossed it aside for an 80 lbs. upgrade.



Stupid dead imps are stupid…and dead.



SUPERBAD indeed.



Doomguy discovered the Colonel’s secret chicken ingredient!



Okay, what’s up with him channeling Al Gore all of a sudden? Clearly it isn’t enough for him to be a crazy guy with a gun; he has to be a crazy environmentalist with a gun.



“All reet”?



When in doubt, blow everything up. Words to live by.



Enter the BFG, and a room questioningly filled to the brim with hell spawn.



So he does have an emotional side.



Amen Doomguy, amen.