Diablo 3 Is Mindless, and That’s Why I Like It

I love it when a game challenges me. I’m very much obsessed with eking out the mystery to The Witness’ island, and working out the solution to each of the puzzles with as little help as possible. I loved juggling my potions, decoctions and meditations to keep on top of the most difficult enemies of The Witcher 3. I’ve written before that Dark Souls is my favourite game, and that game requires a lot of theorising about the flavour text from many disparate items just to get at the lore, never mind the constant wariness it demands from its players.

I recently played through Diablo 3 Ultimate Evil Edition for the first time in co-op with a friend, and found it a mindless, almost automatic experience. That’s what I found made it refreshing, though.

I’d been playing through Rise of the Tomb Raider at the same time, and while it’s a great game, I found it a bit tiring. I get that way when I play games with lots of little collectables and side content. I’m constantly looking for side passages for the fear of missing out on useful upgrades and cool snippets of narrative. A lot of the time this anxiety is minor, but occasionally something about that state of mind doesn’t quite gel with the flow of the game somehow and I find it overshadows the experience. I think in the case of RotTR it’s the floaty way that Lara controls; it worked really well in the previous game which was pretty linear action fare, but with a little bit more freedom and emphasis on seeking out the nooks and crannies of the world the floaty movement didn’t quite “click” for me in the same way.

It was really refreshing, then, to come to Diablo 3 for a bit of a cool-down each evening. Of course I’d have a much different experience if I were partaking in a hardcore playthrough, risking the permanent death of my character, but on a Normal first run-through I was quickly playing on autopilot while chatting about whatever with my co-op companion. I just picked my favourite abilities and rained death upon our enemies while enjoying rapidly-regenerating health and a ring that spawns ridiculously overpowered kamikaze imps.

As a side note, the Nagelring is a ridiculously overpowered item that completely breaks pretty much every boss encounter in the game. It spawns up to four of the aforementioned imps, one of which screams and catapults in glorious death throes across the screen when it’s replaced by a newly spawned imp when you have four. Not only is this hilarious in cutscenes that are trying their level best to be poignant or dramatic or climactic, it also reduces bosses to zero hit points in literally seconds. Before I get the chance to graze them with one of my Demon Hunter’s crossbow bolts. This served to cheapen the game’s most dramatic encounters, yes, but it also provided a steady drip of hilarity that didn’t get old by the time I completed the fifth and final act. It should absolutely be nerfed, but it’s given me too great-a time not to mention.

While ostensibly in a semi-randomly-generated, wide-open world, Diablo 3 still operates very linearly. There’s not too much in the way of side quests and areas as you progress through the story, and while you’re rewarded for seeking out nooks and crannies, you get along just fine without indulging every single side avenue. The maps can get fairly large, but never feel too sprawling and you can easily check the map for areas that haven’t been filled in by your presence yet. It makes it really easy to know when you’ve swept up in an area, which relieves a significant amount of stress for me.

There are lots of games which are similarly simple and therapeutic. Take any game by Thatgamecompany; Flow, Flower, and Journey each require very little mental input from the player, and provide satisfying ways to spend your time. Those games are enrapturing experiences though, pulling you into their worlds and fantasies. And while Diablo 3 failed to make me invested in its world and mythology (although I very much enjoyed its lavish cutscenes), it succeeded in providing me with something that I could muddle through with very little challenge yet still bestowing a sense of stimulating satisfaction from wiping enemies and loot from an area.

So that’s why I cherished my time with Diablo 3. The story utterly failed to interest me, and I was overpowered to the point of wiping away any sense of challenge. But I could run about as a gradually more ridiculous (in terms of power and garb) female demon hunter, raining death down upon demonic hordes with a buddy, laughing at bosses melting under the might of my suicidal exploding imps. It was utterly unchallenging for a change, and I loved it.

Image credits- us.battle.net

Permadeath- Taking Games to the Next Level

As those of you who have read my Until Dawn review will know, I really dug it. I think that what made it really fun in that first play through was the sense of tension that came from knowing that any of my characters might die from any misstep. Decisions had to be made carefully and QTEs heeded, or else boom: character gone. No checkpoints, no take-backs. Playing the first time through trying in vain to keep everyone alive, it struck me that the potential sudden and permanent death of any of my characters hung over me sword of Damocles- like, essential to the experience and tension.

Not that permadeath is a new concept at all. Until Dawn plays very much like a David Cage game, and Heavy Rain featured multiple POV characters who could die. There’s a good argument to be made that any game that boots you to the start after losing all of your lives counts as a kind of permadeath game, although classically the term applies to games that don’t even give you multiple lives, like hardcore mode Diablo or The Binding of Isaac (or any number of roguelikes, for that matter).

It’s fairly obvious why permadeath adds so much tension to a game. While checkpoints allow you to endlessly reload the game to try again, permanent death kicks you right to the start of the game, which can be a real kick in the teeth if you’re a few hours in. This gives the player a mechanically-driven dread of the punishment death, which leads to a deeper connection with the player-character as the will to keep them alive grows stronger.

The sheer frustration of permadeath is often illustrated in the length of games which utilise it- The Binding of Isaac, FTL, and Rogue Legacy can be completed in around an hour. Obviously Diablo’s hardcore mode is something of an outlier in terms of game length, but it’s a game in which you can more reliably gear up as you go along, while the roguelikes employ some level of randomness to upgrade drops.

Perhaps the key to effective permadeath is to be one of two games, then- either be a short, eminently repayable game with a degree of difference between playthroughs, with differing levels and upgrade pickups a’la roguelikes, or a longer, meatier experience with an emphasis on careful approach to gameplay and preparation, a’la Diablo. However, Until Dawn and Heavy Rain are somewhat outside these two classifications, because they’re a decent length at 10-15 hours each, with fairly stable (albiet branching) sequences of events.

Despite its length, I think Until Dawn is very well designed to be played multiple times to experience the story in different ways, with different characters dying and surviving. The permadeath drives the tension in the first playthrough, but keeps you on your toes on subsequent playthroughs- don’t mess up, or Character Y will die again and you won’t get to see how they play into That Thing Later On! I think that if it were slightly shorter, say 5-6 hours, the story wouldn’t have been as satisfyingly twisty, although I would very much like to see a game in the same vein with a simpler story and more emphasis on branching storylines based off what happens to the characters. Like a kind of mix between Until Dawn and The Stanley Parable.

But what of longer games? A brilliant use of permadeath is used in Fire Emblem and XCOM: Enemy Unknown, as well as Mass Effect 2. These games feature casts of characters that you can learn to love, or at least appreciate, as you spend time with them and level them up. While the permanent death of a character in these games won’t remove your ability to finish the game, these characters are either useful (in the case of XCom), or have been around for long enough that you’ll find them endearing as characters and want to see them live through adversity. I remember being so shocked and dismayed at a character’s death in Mass Effect 3, that I had to walk away from the game to refrain from reloading my save rather than living with my decisions.

Permadeath might be rarely implemented, but I think that it really sets apart games that make use of the mechanic. It really does add something to the gaming experience; a sense of panic and accountability for your actions. It’s always an interesting option to play with, and I’d like to see how developers can develop the concept further. Perhaps a game that when you die, you become a ghost for the rest of the game? Or one where you go to hell and the story changes to being about avoiding Satan’s lava hot tub party? Or one where you have to sit through five hours of footage of your own father disapprovingly berating you?

Image credits: gamespot.com