If you’ve been grinding away at Diablo 3, prepare to feel like you’ve hurtled back into the stone age. It’s like stepping back into a dream from long ago. This remake seems to tap into that – it’s like a police sketch artist heard our description, then somehow made the end result more real than we remember it. Somehow, the crunchy, grimy, shifting pixels let the players populate every nook and cranny with an almost infinite reservoir of menace, of possibilities. One of the great things about older games? They leave more to the imagination. It’s kind of alarming just how much time the developers have poured into bringing the denizens of Diablo 2 roaring into the present day, without compromising any of the menace from the original. When you’re playing, hit G every once in a while. Up until Diablo II, I never understood the appeal of teaming up to fight a common enemy – sharing gear, strategising, running pell-mell through darkened corridors from a glowing spider spitting acid… this game had it all. It was also my first time gaming online, encountering strangers who (mostly) wanted to help me. Every day that week, after class, I’d head down and send my pixelated Barbarian scurrying around the ruins of Tristram and Lut Gholein, clicking frantically, utterly enthralled by the gothic horror of this world.ĭiablo II was such a formative gaming experience for so many people. I blew on the mouse wheel, cracked my neck and logged on. I was fifteen years old, I’d handed over five whole bucks to the swarthy guy who ran the joint, and had seated myself at a dinky little PC in the corner. The first time I played Diablo II, I was sitting in an internet cafe in Manly, tucked behind the library.
Paul Verhoeven relieves his glory days by diving back into the dark and spooky world of Diablo 2 Resurrected.
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