Mouse-clicking connoisseurs of a certain age may remember a time when the name Blizzard was synonymous with the most gorgeously impressive CGI cutscenes your tiny mind had ever been blown by, and while Diablo 4’s lengthy introduction comes at a time where there’s far too much widespread talent for any one studio to claim that crown, it is still a goshdarn treat to take in. And so, axe in hand, I set forth, confident that whoever I found myself temporarily adventuring with would at least be fortified with adequate protein to wield rippling gains against the lords of hell. Instead, I’ve been playing Diablo 4’s beta, closed to all except an elite cadre of press, pre-orderers, and, uh, chicken enthusiasts. No, I haven’t gone all Alan Moore and grimoired up a demonic pal to go gallivanting around the big Tescos with. Father forgive me, for I have spent the weekend conversing with the damned.
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