Creating good random map generators is a difficult task in video games, and something we’ve seen done with relative success in all of the Diablo games. Diablo 1 had four dungeon types with quite different maps for each area, though all were just big squares with different arrangements of the pieces within them. (The Hellfire […]
Diablo 3 Podcast conversation about multiplayer co-op issues in Diablo 3. What are the benefits of playing with others? Should there be more party skill bonuses? Why are the Diablo 3 clan tools so meh? The curse of the double-Unity requirement. Show features Aahzmodius, Wolfpaq, and Flux. Click through for approximate segment starting times: 0:30 […]
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Barbarian Short Story: WayfarerPosted 11 Apr 2012 by
The next short story has been released to accompany the Barbarian reveal on Darkness Falls, Heroes Rise promotional page. The previous story for the Demon Hunter was actually fairly well written, and fairly demonic. I was critical at first, but the story eventually brought me in. I have not yet read this short story, but I do hope that it lives up to Hatred and Discipline.
One of the things I really liked about the previous story was that it is the full background of events that happen directly before the falling star hits Tristram Cathedral. I can only assume that this story will be placed during the same time as the Demon Hunter, but elsewhere in Sanctuary.
A small excerpt:
As the sky bruised and the shadows grew long into night, he stood to watch the sun disappear behind the mountains. This was when the whispered sound of the evening breeze would crumble into the slow, shuffling rasp of feet. Her feet… cold and white, frayed tendon and cracked bone worn bare over countless miles of frost-rimmed rock. It did not matter how far Kehr had traveled that day, how many rivers he had forded or cliffs he had scaled. She came at sundown.
The large man busied himself with the fire as the shuffling drew closer. Tinder had grown more plentiful as he had descended into the Sharval Wilds, and Kehr tried to find some comfort in the thought of warm food after weeks of dried venison. It was a futile attempt at cheer, as he knew it would be. The limping footsteps always brought a seeping chill, a liquid sense of ice and horror that rippled and lapped against his skin. They came to a stop in the darkness just beyond the firelight.