T. Elliot Cannon made something like seventeen single-player levels for Doom II and eleven deathmatch arenas before being recommended to Epic Games by John Anderson aka Dr. Sleep and being hired for Unreal. Both Iditarod and Odyssey were originally released on Compuserve, I believe, which makes an absolute timeline difficult to pin down, given that Compuserve shuttered its doors more than 20 years ago. I originally believed that Cannon made the individual levels of Odyssey first and then cobbled together Iditarod during the anticipation of Quake. After experiencing Iditarod first-hand, I wasn't so sure. Both PWADs were absolutely created by the same person, but I found it difficult to believe that Cannon built the carefully-crafted Odyssey first and then cranked out Iditarod. Looking through packages of his Deathmatch levels that I obtained after I initially wrote these reviews, it would seem that the true order of production would be SLEDDOG, IDITAROD, some of Odyssey, and then Grisha, all of this occurring in 1995. Both SP PWADs were uploaded to /idgames alongside Diabolos on April 7th of 1996. Iditarod replaces MAP01 through MAP10 of Doom II.
Unlike Odyssey, Iditarod makes no claim to a story. Cannon presents the levels as though they mirror the escalation of difficulty of Doom II's original campaign but across ten levels instead of thirty. Indeed, a few of these maps are actually Doom II homages. "LUPUS" (MAP01) is a punched-up remake of "Entryway"'s layout and "OVERTURE" (MAP04) was made in the image of "The Abandoned Mines"'s starting area. As a whole, though, it doesn't resemble a retread of Hell on Earth. If I was going to stick a narrative on Iditarod it would be as an extension of Cannon's Odyssey MAP03 ("INTERSTELLAR LIFEFORM RESEARCH BIO-YARD"). Like, a monster research facility that had some sort of containment breach, maybe achieving critical mass with the amount of infernal specimens, with a hole punched into reality in "YUKON" (MAP02). I say this due to the preponderance of cells and cell-like structures encountered throughout the set, as if the facility was twisted into a funhouse of demonic bloodlust.
Iditarod's level design is largely abstract and best resembles the classic "cool rooms connected by corridors" trope (with the occasional maze subbing in for a Cool Room tm). The first six levels are short, cramped, small monster count affairs (though not necessarily easy or simple by any stretch of the imagination) and brought to my mind Christen David Klie's BF_THUD. The last four maps are considerably larger, with monster counts three-to-four times the size of the first segment and featuring bigger playgrounds--and mazes--to move through. Iditarod has some sights and fights worth seeing. However, you may not be willing to partake of Cannon's specific gameplay stylings.
In his interview for 5 Years of Doom, Cannon described Iditarod in less than glowing terms, specifically using the term "experimental", which I generally take as an author doing some heavy-lifting for work that they now consider to be sub-par. Iditarod may be "experimental" as a whole, but it has a handful of key ideas that it rigorously and repeatedly uses in its level design, particularly once you cross the threshold into "MINES" (MAP05). One of the biggest key elements in the author's design language consists of timed-trigger sector machinery. This is usually accomplished via switches but you may have a walkover linedef or two to contend with as well. Generally speaking, these features tend to occur in pairs, often with one switch activating a lift while the other opens a door, with you having to flip both switches in sequence with the correct timing and then move deftly--sometimes torturously--in order to make it in time. One of the sequences in "SIENNA" (MAP07) took quite a few tries before I had the timing and fluidity of movement down.
Doom's actors having infinite height with regard to simplifying actor collision in combination with the fact that Doom was not capable of true "room over room" has led to idtech1 carrying the dirty appellation of "2.5D" for as long as I've been reintroduced to the community. The fact is, Doom IS a three-dimensional game, whether or not it's capable of complex 3D geometry. The way some people behave, you'd think that Doom is basically just Wolfenstein 3D but with walls capable of being rendered at any angle. Being an architect, Cannon has emphasized Doom's capability of creating three-dimensional spaces. One of the ways in which he highlights this is requiring the player to "jump" over pitfalls. Sometimes, this must be accomplished by riding a lift up from which you make the leap.
Both of the previous design elements appear in Cannon's Odyssey, but the way in which they appear here feels more like the PWAD is a representation of Cannon's purestrain gameplay subconsciousness. You've got to be a pretty chill PWAD spelunker to get the most enjoyment out of these maps. ESPECIALLY with "TYR1" (MAP09). This level appears to troll the player while subverting Cannon's beloved gameplay tropes, and it's all centered around one thing: the blue key pillar. The blue key pillar is located at the far end of a nukage pit and right behind it is a balcony. There's a switch in the mess of corridors right before the pit and right next to the switch is a little slat that you can see the pillar through. Flipping the switch momentarily lowers the pillar, but I'm 99% sure that there's no way that you can make it to the blue key in time from the switch.
A charitable reading of the situation is that the switch is meant to clue the player into the fact that this pillar is like plenty of other pillars that have already been encountered through Iditarod and can itself be "used" to trigger its lift cycle. However, in order to reach MAP09, the player must have already forced their way through several levels of timed switch insanity, and may be too switch-fatigued to consider using the pillar itself as an alternative. Furthermore, it's possible to leap from the blue key pillar to the balcony. Don't do this unless you have the red key as there's no way to get back. It's a speedrunning trick that saves you from having to fight your way through the western chasm room normally and also cuts down the amount of backtracking that must be done. I think that it's a relic from when this was originally a co-op level. Unfortunately, having played through the rest of Iditarod, it's easy to look at the balcony and intuit that you're meant to leap onto it. That's what I did, and it resulted in a softlock and many, many minutes of trying to figure out what I had done wrong. Maybe the intent was that one player could grab the blue key and take a shortcut to the yellow, then fight their way back while the other fights their way forward.
Cannon's style of combat focuses on congestion and cramped spaces. He intimates that the player must be capable of using the advantages they have in order to defeat the monsters. Generally, we associate Doomguy's greatest power as being his speed. However, the greatest ability that the player has is a sort of limited immortality, with the capacity to learn from their deaths. At least, that's how I think you're meant to suffer through some of these fights. Take the start of MAP05, for instance. You step east across a slow-descending lift trigger that puts you in a crossfire between revenants and chaingunners with your only escape chock full o' shotgun guys. If you cheese the lift and then hang back, though, then you can gun down most of the sergeants.
Toward the end of this level is a catwalk which prompts a hefty cacodemon attack. You're likely to be mobbed, especially if you panic and take one of the two teleporters, but if you lay down suppression fire with the rocket launcher and then pick off cacos with smaller arms fire until you get uncomfortable, then the teleporters will place you in an ideal position to finish them off. MAP07 is a similar sort of situation. Here, stepping up to the highly tempting shotgun puts you in a world of hurt between two fronts of imps. If you pick up all the scattered shells and then trigger the trap by grabbing the gun last, then you can duck into the starting alcove and take advantage of Doomguy's ability to dodge imp fireballs within a 64-unit corridor.
Further exacerbating this issue is Cannon's affinity toward timed triggers in both progression and backtracking. This creates situations where you're running (and often sprinting) into the next, unexplored room and then must survive before you can set about figuring out what you're supposed to do. There is often a switch that opens the door you just came through tucked away within the room. If I had to liken this format to any Doom author that I've played before then it would be Kevin Reay's Industrial, though TEC's escape rooms are much simpler and more front-loaded in their dangers than Magikal's tricks-and-traps boxes.
After playing Iditarod, I'm a bit exhausted. All of the switch play and secret (and semi-secret) doors ends up being an unusually cerebral play, and that's not even considering where I veered off-course with MAP09. It's well within my wheelhouse of what I like to sink my teeth into, though, and while I could have done without a few things--like the ultra-long lifts in "MALAMUTE" (MAP10)--I'm glad to have seen this raw side to Cannon's level design. It's furthered my appreciation for him as a kindred spirit to Eternal Doom if not in terms of complexity then in how it forces its player to mentally map and relate to the three-dimensional space that the player character occupies. I don't know if I'd recommend it to the average player, as rough around the edges as it is, but if you enjoy levels from '94-'96 then it's definitely worth a gander.
IDITAROD
by T. Elliot Cannon
aka "Myscha the Sled Dog"
MYSCHA THE SLEIGH QUEEN
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