Brütal Legend (2009): When Double Fine Was Metal as Hell

Remember the days of yore, when Double Fine made great games instead of blowing budgets on their latest vanity projects? When Jack Black was more interested in entertaining us than lecturing us? These days, Black and Double Fine’s Tim Schafer look like twin gray-bearded hobos arguing over which one smells worse.

But the 2000s were simpler times. Back when somebody could pitch a video game that looked like an Iron Maiden album cover come to life, and a publisher would actually be crazy enough to fund it.

That game was Brütal Legend. And it was glorious.

On 13 October 2009, Double Fine Productions and Electronic Arts unleashed Brütal Legend on the PlayStation 3 and Xbox 360.

It was ridiculous. It was irreverent. It was metal.

And it was all I wanted in a video game.

A little bit of everything, and a whole lot of metal

Let’s not pretend Brütal Legend invented anything particularly revolutionary when it came to gameplay. There were open-world driving and exploration sequences that felt a little like Grand Theft Auto, plenty of hack-and-slash combat, and even some real-time strategy thrown in for the nerds who wanted to command armies instead of simply smashing things with an axe.

There was something for everyone.  

And somehow, despite borrowing ideas from several different genres, Brütal Legend never felt like a cheap knockoff. It had too much personality for that.

Besides, the gameplay was never really the point.

It was all about the metal.

The greatest jukebox in gaming?

As a lifelong metalhead, the soundtrack alone was practically worth the price of admission.

We’re talking about a collection that included:

• Motörhead — “We Are the Road Crew”
• Judas Priest — “The Hellion / Electric Eye”
• Black Sabbath — “Children of the Grave”
• Mötley Crüe — “Dr. Feelgood”
• Megadeth — “Tornado of Souls”
• DragonForce — “Through the Fire and Flames”

And those were just a few highlights from a soundtrack featuring more than 100 songs spanning classic heavy metal, thrash, power metal, death metal, and just about every other flavor of music guaranteed to annoy your neighbors. Not a filler track in the bunch, either. And while we’re on the subject, I think we can all agree that Megadeth’s “Tornado of Souls” is objectively the greatest metal song ever written. That’s not an opinion. That’s just a fact. Feel free to be wrong about it.

But what made Brütal Legend special wasn’t simply having a great playlist.

The music wasn’t just a soundtrack. It was life.

A world built from album covers

The entire universe looked like somebody had taken decades of heavy metal album artwork, tossed everything into the mosh pit, and turned the results into a playable fantasy world.

Towering monuments, twisted machinery, demonic creatures, enormous speakers, skull-covered landscapes, and roads winding through places that looked like they belonged on the cover of a Judas Priest or Iron Maiden record.

Even the characters and their factions reflected different corners of metal culture.

You had leather-clad rebels, headbangers, glam-metal excess, and the darker, more sinister imagery associated with extreme metal. The world wasn’t simply decorated with metal references. Its civilizations, mythology, weapons, architecture, and conflicts were built around them.

And somehow, all of it fit together.

Jack Black, a roadie, and the end of the world

The story follows Eddie Riggs, a professional roadie voiced by Jack Black, who finds himself transported into this bizarre world after a rather unfortunate incident involving a stage prop.

Eddie isn’t some chosen warrior prince. He’s a roadie. He’s the guy behind the scenes making sure the show goes on.

And that turns out to be exactly what this world needs.

Armed with a massive axe and a guitar capable of unleashing supernatural powers, Eddie joins a rebellion against demonic tyrants. Along the way, he builds an army, recruits allies, drives a ridiculous hot rod, and generally causes enough destruction to make a stadium tour look like a quiet evening at home.

The genius of the premise is that Eddie approaches saving the world the same way he’d approach putting on a concert.

He organizes the crew, gets the equipment working, brings everyone together, and makes sure the show happens.

Even the real-time strategy battles make sense in that context. You’re not simply building a military base. You’re putting on a show, using stages, fans, performers, and musical factions to wage war.

It’s completely absurd.

It’s also brilliant.

A cast worthy of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

Of course, you can’t build a heavy metal fantasy universe without inviting a few legends to the party.

Alongside Jack Black, the game featured Ozzy Osbourne as the Guardian of Metal, Lemmy Kilmister as the Kill Master, Rob Halford as General Lionwhyte, and Lita Ford as Rima.

Even Tim Curry joined the madness as the demonic Emperor Doviculus.

These weren’t simply celebrity names slapped onto a box for marketing. Their characters belonged in this universe. Their voices, personalities, and musical legacies helped give the world its identity.

And hearing Lemmy or Ozzy turn up in the middle of a video game was worth a grin all by itself.

Seventeen years later, the legend lives on

Was Brütal Legend perfect? Of course not.

The combat could be repetitive. The strategy battles weren’t everybody’s cup of tea. And anyone expecting a straightforward action adventure probably got a surprise when the game started asking them to manage an army.

But I didn’t care.

For me, Brütal Legend was one of those rare games where the setting, characters, humor, music, and gameplay all came together to create something that felt genuinely different.

It understood that heavy metal was more than loud guitars and screaming vocals. It was the artwork, the theatricality, the mythology, the rebellious attitude, and the wonderfully ridiculous spectacle of it all.

And rather than making fun of that culture from the outside, Brütal Legend celebrated it from within.

The music wasn’t there to accompany the adventure. The adventure existed because of the music.

Seventeen years later, I still wish we’d gotten a sequel. But if Double Fine thinks I’m dropping a dime into its digital begging cup to fund one, they’ve got another think coming.