One of the most endearing aspects of Doom mapping is how distinct and unique the maps have become over time. While mods that provide an extensive overhaul to Doom's aesthetic have always existed, like 1994's Aliens TC, it wasn't until some years later that this practice became commonplace. One look at the most noteworthy and influential megawads of the 2010s is all you need to confirm this. Ancient Aliens, Eviternity, and Back to Saturn X are just three examples of blockbuster megawads with not just their own unique texturing, but also well-defined gameplay loops. Of course, the uniqueness of different Doom maps extends not just to their visuals, but also their feel, what it's like to play it. Oftentimes these aspects compliment each other directly. A good Doom map, then, is one that establishes its own unique identity both on a surface level as well as a deeper one.
This is something Sunlust accomplishes in spades. Sunlust looks nothing like typical Doom, and it feels nothing like typical Doom, either. But somehow, to me, Sunlust IS Doom. It is Doom because it is the megawad that most embodies the definition of the word. The name of the game with Sunlust is awe-inspiring. You stand in awe of the grand architecture. The dazzling environments. And, of course, the epic fights. A recurring motif in Sunlust is that it will start a fight with every enemy facing away from you, unalerted to your presence. With the initiative on you to begin the fight, you're free to take a moment both to admire the precise combat geometry as well as to wonder how the hell you're going to make it out of this alive.
And like I've said with many of my other Doom reviews, don't be put off by the legends of this megawad's difficulty. Don't feel like you have to play on ultra-violence. I sure didn't, and I still loved it! I promise the lower difficulties are much more manageable.
Sunlust, I like to imagine, is Doom in its purest, most distilled form. It is the height of the idea of Doom as a "combat puzzle" game, where each encounter takes careful thought, deliberate preparation, and precise execution in order to best. It is a perfect marriage of visual aesthetics and gameplay style. It is, simply, a work of art.

You'd never think it was possible, but I've gotten very emotionally attached to this short, dozen pack mapset. As such, this is going to be a somewhat personal review. Apologies in advance.
Altars of Madness' approach to Doom is to focus squarely on compact combat puzzles with calculated geometry. As such, it is pretty clearly inspired by the work of Ribbiks. It also forces pistol starts each map. Its brevity, conciseness, and general gameplay loop make it ideal for new Doom players looking to hone their skills.
For me, I took much longer to beat these twelve short maps than you might think. That's because I didn't play Altars of Madness with the intention of pushing through to the end. Somehow, one way or another, Altars of Madness became my guidepost. Something I would check in on every now and then while I played other Doom WADs. When I started playing this mapset, I struggled. A lot. The forced pistol starts and dense combat seemed like they would be too much for me. But as I played other Doom WADs and circled back to this one, I found the maps getting easier. Yes, in a weird way, because of my awkward way of playing this game, the difficulty curve was almost inverted.
I have since played quite a lot of Doom, and I've wildly fallen in love with some blockbuster megawads. Altars of Madness certainly isn't as good as those, but it's special to me. I'm going to miss this mapset's watchful eye observing and rewarding my improvement.
Cheers to you, Alex Decker. For this mapset and your good taste in music.