gamegrene.com

True. True.

I might be mistaken here, but I don't think that Diablo 2 was ever meant to be a role-playing game. It was meant to be an adventure game. People often assume that any game with a fantasy theme is intended as an RPG, and I'm not really sure why.

>People often assume that any game
>with a fantasy theme is intended as
>an RPG, and I'm not really sure why.

Because the lines are blurry. Ok, top-down 3/4 view games: Diablo 2, Baldur's Gate, Planescape Torment, Arcanum. Which are RPGs and which are Adventure games? All involve little figures running around killing things, all involve some dialogue interaction with other characters. All involve the ability to increase your statistics and gain items. All involve playing a role as another individual. So where does the line get drawn?

Or take first-person style games: Half-Life, Everquest, Anarchy Online, Unreal. All involve some degree of improvement (for the first-person shooters, this is typically in the guise of better equipment, whereas with Everquest and AO, it's also in the guise of character improvement.) All involve dialogue interaction to some degree. All involve mass killing of things. Again, where does one draw the line?

To get back to Diablo II, I assert that it's being considered an RPG. Most game review sites and online stores freely refer to it as "an action RPG ". Consider: They use the same terminology (NPCs, PCs, etc) as RPGs; the same style of hack-and-slash killing is present in plenty of Dungeons & Dragons campaigns I know of; and Diablo II even released a d20 System rulebook or two. For most people, this *is* role-playing. And I suppose technically, it is; they're playing a role, after all, even if that role is bloodthirsty killer.

And for the final word on this one, visit http://www.blizzard.com/worlds-diablo.shtml

I quote from their little blurb on Diablo, the original game: "this dark role-playing adventure..."

I think the lines between RPG and action are definitely blurred in Diablo. Funnily enough, it was D that got me interested in RPGs in the first place. I think the best way to think of Diablo and its' sequel is as an 'action RPG' - taking the bare esentials of hack & slash and making them palatable to the mass market. The problem is, though, that many of us D1 players expected a greater degree of complexity with new challenges in D2. Consider another Blizzard game, Warcraft. The original game had just two races, a fairly basic set of units and two terrain tilesets (swamp & woods). In the sequel, vast numbers of new units, terrain types and plot twists were added, but it was still fairly easy for new players to get into the game. In the next Warcraft, Blizzard are going to include even more races and 3D graphics technology. Now be honest - apart from a variety of new weapons, skills and characters with which to eviscerate hordes of demons, what is there to really set D2 apart from the first game? As far as I can tell, the only really effective new edition is the inclusion of Mercenaries. This at least allows you to maintain a semblance of 'party based' exploring and interaction. Also, you tend to care for the mercenary more as they get more experienced (more valuable) adding a slightly RPG-ish slant to the proceedings.

As one of the finest sailors in Sanctuary, I feel I must also add my angle of this story. There is another occurence which Lionheart failed to mention. As you know, after he had defeated Duriel, the noble paladin enlisted my services in order to sail east of Lut Gholein, across the vast sea to the jungle lands of the far east. After we had reached Kurast, the paladin discovered some plate armour which he deigned worthy enough to be imbued by Charsi, a blacksmith of the Rogue Sisterhood back in Kanduras. I offered the use of my ship once more, but Lionheart decided instead to use the portal in the docks to return to the faraway rogue camp. It's just as well that only adventurers can use those things, or I'd be out of business. Then, the strangest thing happened. I found myself back in the docks of Port Lut Gholein, with my trusty ship somehow transported across the ocean. There was Lionheart, arrayed in his splendid new ensorcelled armour, apparently oblivious to the fact that I shouldn't be there at all. I kept quiet, and agreed when he suggested I sail back across the sea to Kezekstahn again. Eventually, we reached Kurast and no more strangeness occurred, although I did exchange a golden figurine for another statuette with my companion before he disappeared somewhere in Upper Kurast. Still, 'tis strange, no?

I would have done it, too, if it hadn't been for you pesky adventurers!

Thank goodness I managed to find someone in a similar predicament to me. Lionheart, you think things are bad. Believe me, you have no idea. I am a Sorceress, aged - well, it's hard to explain. Like my mother, who's always lived a sheltered, non-magical existance in a hut in the woods with my father, I have pale skin, blue eyes and long, dark hair. I'm slender, but not so much so as to be unattractive. Like you, I set out to defeat Diablo, but found myself side-tracked when I chanced upon a strange cave in the northern marches. Don't ask me what I was doing there, but I stumbled upon a couple of other enchantresses who were looking for a third member of their coven. It seems that they had discovered a unique scroll, the Parchment of Tybesdar, which had lain undiscovered for a thousand years. The other two girls had realised that the scroll would allow us to cast Mezuman's Temporal Travel, the only spell in existence that can take a person back in time.

Our plan was simple - return to Kanduras many years ago, when Leoric was younger, and convince him to take steps to prevent anyone from penetrating the depths of the Horadrim Monastery. Here, however, was the catch - only one of us could go back in time, and once there, she could never return to her own time by magical means. After some deliberation, it was decided that I, being pretty powerful at just 23 years old, should be the one to go back in time. Full of determination, I readied my most powerful spells (and put on my best dress) for the task ahead, although not before returning to my mother and explaining what I was about to do. She seemed strangely unaffected, and I wondered if there was something she wasn't telling me.

Anyway, I rejoined the girls and we chose a suitably dark and stormy night in which to cast the spell. Thunder roared all around as we chanted arcane liturgies, and there was a great incandescent flare as a searingly bright, dimensional portal appeared before me. Posing dramatically, I turned to the others and waved goodbye, before stepping into the portal. As I did so, I grinned with smugness. All these problems had been caused by men - Archbishop Lazarus, King Leoric, and the dumb warrior who thought he could contain Diablo by ramming a Soulstone into his head. Now, these problems would finally be solved, and a WOMAN would be the one to do it. After all, all those years of feminism and female empowerment must have achieved something, mustn't they?

How wrong I was. In our haste to alter history, myself and my fellow enchantresses had overlooked one small but important detail. The temporal portal only allowed living tissue to pass through, not items or weapons of any kind. To make matters worse, (unbeknown to us) any magical powers or skills would be totally erased by the dimensional journey. Thus I found myself on the same dark, rain-lashed hillside, several decades ago. Surrounded by wild boar. With no spells, potions or scrolls, no Viridian Staff of the Jackal and worst of all, no clothes. I raised my hand to blast the angry pigs, but instead of an invocation the only sound that came from my mouth was a high-pitched, girlish scream. I realised with horror that I had become just another pathetic damsel in distress, and I yelled helplessly with terror as the wild boars advanced on me.

Then, from nowhere, a tall (well, he was about 5' 9") leather clad warrior appeared and began spinning and twirling a bejewelled runesword around as though it was some majorette's baton. It flashed impressively in the gloom, then he dropped the damn thing and I screamed, desperately 'Will you just get on with killing them, and stop showing off!' He looked at me, then when he saw I wasn't wearing any clothes looked quickly away again, and got on with the unpleasant business of slaughtering the agressive hogs.

I stood by, trembling with embarassment as he slew the last of them, then returned his attentions to me. 'Come with me if you want to live,' he said (although he said it so awkwardly that the heroic effect was spoiled somewhat) and swept me up in his arms. As I felt the creaking black leather brush against my quivering, naked body I was ashamed to realise that I was actually enjoying this. What would Akara, or Kashya, or Xena think of me? I shuddered.

The young man eventually laid me down when we reached some woods, and quickly took a spare robe and some clothes from his pack, for which I was very grateful. He chivalrously looked the other way as I clothed myself once more, then gently began to try to calm me down, for I was understandably in quite a state. He explained that he was a wandering adventurer in Kanduras, and was journeying to Tristram to join the court of King Leoric. Immediately, I blurted out everything that had happened, and by now I was of the opinion that my quest was a lost cause. What could I, divested of my magical powers, do to stop the collapse of Leoric's kingdom? Desperately, I tried to convince the warrior that we should go into hiding in the northern forests, and lie low until the strife and turmoil had dissipated. He protested at first, but eventually he laughed and agreed, saying that he would like to spend some time with me to get to know me better. I think he was somewhat enamoured of me, and to be quite honest, I was already rather growing to like him for his decency and understanding nature. Perhaps, I reasoned, men weren't so bad after all.

We stole away into the forests of Kanduras, leaving all thoughts of politics and worldly concern to spend time together, alone in the verdant depths. My companion built a little log cabin in the woods at the edge of a small village, and we spent months and months in each other's company. Time passed, and our love was not diminished; rather, it grew and blossomed into a raging inferno of adulation and wild passion as we fell head over heels in love with each other. Eventually, we got married and settled down together, with not a care in the world.

It occurred to me that we had made our home in the woods very close to where my mother and father lived, or at least, were GOING to live, and I often wandered the woods alone trying to find them. I knew they wouldn't recognise me, but my confidence was unrewarded as I always failed to find them. Eventually, I stopped worrying about this niggling matter and returned to my husband's arms, delighting in the sensation of his warm and loving kisses.

Years passed and I all but forgot about my past (/future?), so much so that it eventually seemed as though I had never been a Sorceress. I tried, of course, to do some spells, and when those failed, I attempted minor conjurations and feats which, even when I was a girl, I had been easily capable of. Again, nothing. I forgot about sorcery - what use was magic when I had love? My husband, ever understanding, was wise and sympathetic - truly, he is the man I've always longed for. Eventually, we had a child, a daughter, whom I named Kassandra after myself, for she bore an uncanny resemblance to me. The likeness was always an amusement to my husband, who was as amazed as I was at the incredible similarity I shared with my daughter.

When she was approaching her teens, my daughter, to my great surprise and joy, started to display signs of magical aptitude. It began with small things - making pencils hover in mid-air, then setting fire to the cat (which I hastily doused, of course), then pushing a stool over with the force of her mind. My husband, slightly worried at first, began to share my delight as it became obvious that like me, the girl's destiny clearly indicated she would become a Sorceress.

The time came at last, when the Zan Esu selected my daughter to try the test of magic, and she was delighted when, of course, she passed the trial, showing herself to be worthy as a Sorceress. Our girl left home, and we didn't see her again for many years as she immersed herself in the arts of magic. Eventually, she came home, a fully fledged young sorceress, and I was overjoyed at how beautiful and confident she looked. My husband gasped, and he later explained to me that it was because our daughter looked EXACTLY as I had done when he first rescued me from the hillside all those years ago (although, of course, with more clothing).

The girl had a troubled look on her face, and I asked what it was that distressed her so. She explained the ills that had befallen Tristram and Leoric's madness - how Archbishop Lazarus had betrayed his countrymen and unleashed Diablo upon the world. My husband cursed, but his spirits were lifted when he learned that another warrior had slain the demon. But then my daughter told me what I already knew, what I had dreaded - that Diablo had now risen once more, and had wandered into the far East to raise an unstoppable army of demons.

My husband wanted to fight for his kingdom, but even he knew that it was too late - he was too old, we both were, to be of assistance. If only I had not lost my magical powers! I tried to stop my child, but she was adamant that she would take part in the battle against Diablo. Eventually, we gave her our best love and bid our beautiful daughter farewell, wishing her every success in her brave battle. A thought came to me - I don't fully know why - but I vaguely suggested that she might journey awhile in the northern marches to build up her experience before travelling eastwards. She nodded thoughtfully, and gave us a smile of such heartbreaking beauty that I had to fight to keep the tears from my eyes. Then she left us, and we prayed that she would return one day, in good health.

Some time passed, and as my husband and I waited anxiously, the news reached us, even in our secluded little hamlet, of countless atrocities committed by demonic hordes that assailed the kindoms of Sanctuary. Finally, the wondrous day arrived at last when my daughter returned, and I was pleased to see that she was, as yet, unnaffected by the rigours of battle. She explained that she had not yet travelled eastwards, but her adventures had taken her to a cave in the north of Kanduras. There, she had met a coven of enchantresses who had devised a plan that might rid Sanctuary of Diablo's curse forever. I and my husband were encouraged to hear this, and although I didn't say it out lour, I was curious as to whether this was the same coven that I had joined.

I had never told my daughter the manner of how I came to meet her father, but for a moment, I was tempted. Eventually, I decided not to, but for a moment, I was tempted. Eventually, I decided against it, but again I wished her success in her plan. She explained to me that I would probably never see her again, but she would do her best to stay alive. My husband and I nodded - we strove to hide our overwhelming grief at this seemingly inevitably panting, but convinced ourselves that it would be a justified sacrifice in the struggle against the common enemies of manking. My daughter left, and fortunately she was too far away to hear when I broke down in great floods of tears, hugging my husband as he held me warmly and lovingly. We stood there for long minutes, clutching each other tightly, then I asked him if I could be on my own for a while. He agreed, and left me alone, although I knew that he would have held me and comforted me for an eternity if he had to.

I went into my study, for though I had lost my powers, I still enjoyed reading, and consulted my books. I had tried to record and document the strange events surrounding my life, and although the details of the time-shift were vague to me, one thing stood out. It was the date upon which I had walked through the portal, emblazoned forever on my mind. And there it was, on the page. And as I looked at it, a strange suspicion came over me. I picked up the calendar, dreading and disbelieving what had just insinuated itself into my mind. Eventually, my finger reached the date, today's date. And the breath left my lungs; for a moment, my heart almost stopped beating, and I had to count to ten to try to calm myself down. For the date upon which I had entered the temporal shift was exactly the same as the today's date.

Instantly, I rushed to my husband and told him what I had seen - he didn't believe me at first. But he sure believed me when he saw the date written on paper. We held each other's hands tightly, our hearts pounding - what were we going to do? If only I still had my magical powers, I could have used telepathy to warn my beloved daughter. But somehow, I knew that fate was at work here. We sat together that night, as a great storm enveloped the western kingdoms, and I somehow knew what I dare not tell my husband. At last, the fateful hour arrived.

As my husband and I sat there, holding each other's hands, a searing, crackling energy enveloped us and I felt myself being flung back across gulfs of time. As I was hurled through time and space, I somehow knew that my husband was with me as well, being cast into boundless depths of infinity.

Finally, lighting flashed and I found myself on a dark hillside again, young, unclad and horrified at suddenly losing my Sorceress powers. Shocked, I looked up as wild boars came towards me. I raised my hand and tried to speak words of power, but a high pitched, wailing scream was all that came out. I shrieked again and my husband appeared, youthful once more, his sword gleaming in the moonlight. Swiftly he slew the wild boars - once they were dispatched, he took me in his arms, naked and trembling, and gazed into my eyes. Desperately, I began to ask him if he remembered going back in time. Bemused, he met my frenzied gabbling with a puzzled expression.

At that moment, I realised that he didn't know. We were back to square one again, doomed to start over. Then another thought struck me, and I realised the full horror of the situation. You see, I AM my own mother. I had gone back in time and given birth to my future self. And now I'm doomed to repeat the cycle ad infinitum. As I looked up into the kindly face of my husband-to-be, I gave a despairing little sigh, shuddered weakly, and passed out.

When I came around, I tried all sorts of things, I tried changing my actions, trying to steer us in a different direction or make things happen differently. But I can't seem to do it - every time (and I've been repeating the loop for what must be an eternity) things DO happen slightly differently, but the overall outcome is always the same. I've tried to reason with my husband, but he never seems to be able to affect things. If I didn't have his kind and loving support, I think I'd go mad, but deep down in my heart I know that he is just as much a prisoner in this as I am.

There has to be a way out, but I just can't figure out what it is. I can't tell my daughter not to do the ritual - if I don't send her back, I won't exist. God, a girl could go insane thinking about this. And the worst thing of all is that I seem to be the only one who's actually aware of what's happening. I must have accumulated years of knowledge and wisdom, but I can't do anything to alter my destiny. I never have my magical powers, because they only exist when my younger self is in being, and there's no way I can access them, as they're in HER possession, and I'm terrified that if I interfere in some way I might upset the very fabric of reality.

The bottom line is this, pally - before you start shooting off and moaning about how bad your life is, remember that there's always someone worse off than you are. Believe me, giving birth HURTS. It was bad enough the first time, but can you imagine what it's like to give birth to YOURSELF over and over again? I've done it 364 times so far, and no, it DOESN'T get any less painful with experience. I'm sorry, but I'm sure you'll understand now why I'm a little cranky. I'm an optimist, and I keep trying to tell myself that one day it will all be over, but somehow I have a curious feeling that this is something to do with destiny. I don't think I can actually die. You see, this loop, this... neverending circle, actually seems to be PART of the space time continuum now. It's no longer within my capability to effect change, but I shall go on, for evermore if I have to. But just be aware, there are people in the same boat as you, and you have my deepest sympathy. Maybe one day you'll find some way of getting us out of this infernal mess.

- Kassandra

Rakanishu rakanishu rakanishu. Rakanishu rakanishu. Rakanishu. Pika pika pikachu chu.

Rakanishu!

I read with great interest the journal of Lionheart, whom I remember aiding whilst he was adventuring in Lut Gholein. As a learned Vizjerei mage, I am usually more nonchalant about strange ocurrences than most people. But I have noticed a few extremely curious happenings here in the Jewel City. Firstly, although Greiz maintains to be protecting the city with his free company of mercenaries, there seem to be none of them in sight. It is extremely strange, as Lionheart tells me that the Rogue Camp in Kanduras and the Kurast docks are heavily patrolled by sentries. Yet the only thing keeping the minions of darkness out of Lut Gholein seems to be the threat of my puissant magic. Another disquieting revelation is the fact that there seem to be no more adventuring Vizjerei. Even worse, whenever a charming young Zan Esu sorceress comes into town, I have to greet her with an extremely patronising and sexist comment about her powers probably not being great enough. I can't understand why I feel compelled to do this, because I have the greatest respect for both fellow mages and women. And of course, many of these sorceresses are very powerful even before they have finished their adventures in the desert. But the strangest thing of all is this - every now and then, the city gate changes position. Sometimes it's in the northeast city wall, near my stall, and sometimes it's in the northwest wall. I cannot for the life of me work out why, unless it's part of some ancient enchantment to protect the town from intruders. Anyway, I have often seen adventurers lead groups of monsters back to town, the beasts becoming 'stuck' by an invisible barrier just outside the gates preventing them from entering. Curiously, I can't seem to launch magic at them, despite the fact I would very much like to aid the adventurers. Most peculiar.

Heh heh heh.....

All paladins fall to me once or another...

Oh, and Lionheart, the reason you have seen no other Paladins is because Paladins SUCK.