The Diablo franchise is not exactly known for being bright and cheerful, with the exception of the occasional gag, like Whimsyshire. This is a place where everyone constantly needs skulls so they can stack them for rituals and adorn their staves with them, which is a bit of a pain. At least it’s a problem with an easy enough solution, because everyone keeps getting murdered, thus providing skulls. You might think this kind of atmosphere really harshes the vibe of a chill gaming session, but the unrelenting grimness of Diablo 4 is actually weirdly charming.
I wasn’t familiar with the first two Diablo games, and I only really dabbled in Diablo 3, but the early campaign put me off. Hanging out with Leah and her grumpy grandpa was OK, but when they started quibbling back and forth about whether magical demons are real or not, I mentally checked out. Of course they’re real; I’m filling up my experience bar by mowing through dozens of ’em. At first, I wasn’t sure if Diablo 4 would catch my interest, but since my usual group of gaming pals were all jumping in, I decided to give it a shot.
This time, I’ve found myself absolutely enchanted, and part of that is the atmosphere. Diablo 3 felt a little bit like going to a macabre theme park, but Diablo 4 really drives a sense of lived-in misery and desperation into every corner of its world. I don’t think literally anyone, at any time, is having a chill time in the world of Sanctuary. I’m sure there are a few nobles who are doing OK, but they’re inevitably skinned by demons or torn apart by cultists. Everyone else is just digging in the dirt to try and find beets to boil.
It works largely because everyone just seems to roll with it. Villagers and soldiers never seem to strive for
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