We All Live in Purgatory

By Jin-yeong Yi

Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry - Fiery Purgatory

Trapped in purgatory
A lifeless object, alive
Awaiting reprisal
Death will be their acquisition

The sky is turning red
Return to power draws near
Fall into me, the sky’s crimson tears
Abolish the rules made of stone

Pierced from below, souls of my treacherous past
Betrayed by many, now ornaments dripping above

Awaiting the hour of reprisal
Your time slips away

Raining blood
From a lacerated sky
Bleeding its horror
Creating my structure
Now I shall reign in blood!

—Slayer, “Raining Blood”

One time in an art class in high school, I was listening to a conversation being held among classmates I was sitting with. One of them, a female punk, wondered aloud if this world was Hell itself. When her friend disagreed, arguing that it wasn’t “bad enough,” she immediately shot back with “How do you know?” Incidentally, the late Chuck Schuldiner (Death) actually once said that this world was Hell, and that there were demons in people.

I tend to take a more moderate position. In my post on Painkiller, I noted that I saw the game as a metaphor for life, and I feel strongly as ever about this. This world is neither Heaven nor Hell. This world is Purgatory. Unlike Heaven and Hell, Purgatory is a mixed bag–here one finds beauty as well as ugliness, good as well as evil, reasons to live as well as reasons to die. Also, unlike Heaven and Hell, Purgatory is not static; it’s a journey rather than a destination. It is a temporary state of being, one full of perils–and possibilities. Above all, it’s a perpetual war, full of uncertainty, chaos, horror, suffering, and death.

If we’re here for a reason, I doubt it’s to pursue happiness, which is as elusive as a pot of gold on the other side of a rainbow. The sum of my observations and experiences suggests to me that, if we’re here for a reason, it’s to do battle, to oppose our wills and wits to the howling fury of demons within and without us.

So pick up your sword–or your Painkiller, if you happen to own one of those–and brace yourself for the next battle, with a smile of grim determination on your battered and bloodied face. Having some kickass music playing in the background wouldn’t hurt either.

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Painkiller

By Jin-yeong Yi

Painkiller was an unexpected discovery for me. I found the game on sale on GOG.com during one of their weekend promos. As a longtime fan of first person shooters who had recently rediscovered gaming, I was definitely eager to exercise my trigger finger again. So when I saw Painkiller, I thought, “A gory, M-rated FPS that has you starring as God’s hitman? Good enough for me.”

It’s about a man named Daniel Garner who was killed in a car accident along with his wife Catherine when he was taking her out to dinner for her birthday. Catherine goes straight to heaven, but Daniel is stuck in purgatory, fighting for his soul against Lucifer’s legions. Eventually, God takes notice of Daniel’s fighting abilities, and sends one of His servants to make a deal with Daniel. If he successfully assassinates Lucifer’s four generals, he will be allowed into heaven and be reunited with Catherine. With little left to lose, Daniel naturally accepts, and begins his long trek through purgatory.

I found that Painkiller was definitely not my standard FPS. Save for the boss fights (in terms of sheer size, I’ve never seen creatures that deserve the title of “boss” more than the gargantuan, Lovecraftian monstrosities found in them), there is generally very little strategy to speak of. Stealth is meaningless. Your weapons don’t need to be reloaded. You can’t even crouch. The game is basically the polar opposite of, say, Rainbow Six or Deus Ex. Your only real goal is to kill, kill, kill.

The game apparently gets its odd title from your basic weapon, which is a hideous device that can alternately shred or pierce through flesh and bone with blades that can be either rotated or discharged. The rotating mode is called “Pain” and the projectile mode is called “Killer.” Pretty apt, if you ask me.

In spite of its cheesy plot, tactical simplicity, and quirkiness, the game works. The music is highly generic and unoriginal heavy metal, and yet it gets me pumped up for a fight, as it is undoubtedly supposed to. The locations (ranging from opera houses to Middle Eastern palaces) are beautifully crafted and often imbue each battle with a sense of grandeur. No other video game I’ve played hitherto makes me feel like such a badass as when I’m nailing unruly ghouls to walls with a stake gun, blasting them apart with a shotgun, or sadistically slicing and dicing them with a mutant buzz saw.

I find that Painkiller can be taken as a metaphor for life itself: Sometimes, God fucks you over, and you find yourself with two choices: lie down and perish, or “take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them.”