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Schadenfriday: Diabl-NOOOOOOOOO!

Evil never sleeps. It would like to, but all those bloody horns and things just keep ruining the bed. Even a really expensive one from Dreams. It's not easy being Diablo.

Why, hello there! Diablo here. What? No. No, Diablo 3. Diablo 2 was my father. Those miserable fleshlings at Rock Paper Shotgun have asked me to cast my expert eye over you scumbags’ failed attempts at murdering me IN MY OWN ****ING HOUSE. Why? The correct assumption I might rather enjoy witnessing hours upon hours of Hardcore adventuring going straight down the crapper. In exchange for a chance to plug my favourite book, I of course agreed…

DIABLO SAYS: They say my greatest trick was convincing the world I didn’t exist. They are incorrect, as anyone who’s seen what I can do with a pack of ping-pong balls will attest. Here though, my army of invisible bugs does me so proud. I would weep, if my tears didn’t routinely rend the ground beneath me asunder and guarantee my TV remote control falls into some stygian abyss that’s a real bugger to get a clawed hand into before Emmerdale starts.

RATING: MWAH-HA-HA-HA-HA!

DIABLO SAYS: Ah, beautiful. As much as I enjoy savouring a mortal’s distress as they slowly dig towards their inevitable demise, I also find joy in a calm, controlled situation exploding into panic and horror. It’s like witnessing a masturbator suddenly ejaculate an angry wasp.

RATING: MWAH-HA-HA!

DIABLO SAYS: A truly glorious reaction to the inevitability of my victory! The face-plant could only be better if it was on a bed of roses laced with the plague, or if the bed had collapsed with a mighty thump. And then gone right through the floor. Oh, and that sudden scream? Pure poetry, or will be, as soon as I find a good rhyme for “OHOOGHFAARGH!”

RATING: MWAH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!

DIABLO SAYS: Mmm. You know, I appreciate the ‘fuck’, as the actress said to the bishop, but I prefer my torment a little less reasoned. Do you know how hard I work to bring you these deaths? Do you think completely re-arranging my domain every single time is easy? I can’t find anything any more. No. More screaming, and please, don’t blame yourself. Blame me. Everyone likes to get credit for their hard work. Why should I be any different, just because I’m the embodiment of sin and living blight on the oh wait, right, that’s it. Never mind.

RATING: MWAH-HA.

DIABLO SAYS: Anticipation. Knowing what’s coming. Knowing that he won’t be able to scream “HOW DARE YOU RUIN MY GAME BY MAKING ME SPEND TIME WITH MY PROGENY?” The donning of headphones, still in a blissful state of non-awareness. The reveal. I haven’t been this happy since Deckard Cain farted in the middle of one of his boring speeches.

RATING: MWAH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!

DIABLO SAYS: A strong start, a very strong start, ruined by the fact that no actual person ever screams “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” like that for the simple reason that it is Silly. I refer you to Star Wars: Episode 3 for the final nail in that trope’s coffin. One might suspect you were playing things up a bit, and do not in fact think that dying in a children’s video toy is equivalent to having your internal organs burned by lava and having every single person with a glass think they can do impressions of you. Points for effort, yes, but in the end, I just didn’t feel it.

RATING: MWAH-HA-HA!

DIABLO SAYS: Betrayal, screaming, and screams of “NOOOOOOOB!” from a dead man make for a delicious cocktail of misery and destruction that could only be made better if the same player had subsequently died after a boss kill by standing in fire. Hmmm. What’s that? Oh my. Let all involved know that for this alone, their torments shall be nominally reduced. I’d be more generous, but I don’t want Belial thinking I’ve gone soft. It’s bad enough he found out I was a Bronie, even if most of my fan-fic does take place in a sparkly glue factory.

RATING: MWAH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!

There are many more deaths out there, and many more to come. Rest assured, I see all and I laugh at most. And remember, if you venture into hardcore mode, death is final, whether it comes from bugs, demons, or my own divinely diabolical hand. You can complain, but that will only make your pain all the sweeter. Take a big Dairy Milk bar. Stick an equally large Milkybar on the back of it. That’s the level of sweetness we’re talking about here, not to mention a level of sinful delight that guarantees your passage into my realm of torment. Needless to say, I urge you to try it at the first available opportunity, and not just for the damnation.

Toodle-pip!

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