The End of Days is here—Diablo III was unleashed from the Burning Hells this morning. Players around the world are returning to Tristram to discover the dark secrets of a fallen star and begin their quest to save Sanctuary from the impending demonic invasion. Our fate is in the hands of barbarians, monks, demon hunters, witch doctors, and wizards.
For those who pre-bought World of Warcraft, the encrypted version is now allegedly unlocked and ready to play. But I’ll never know for sure, because I’m not a player—not of this game, or any other online “interactive” massive time waster.
Oh, I understand their appeal for true sufferers of agoraphobia; if you’re afraid to get out and meet people face to face, then by all means, enjoy playing pretend. But if you want to truly connect and make any kind of difference in the world (dare I say humanity?) then you need to get the hell off your butt and get out there into the real world.
The fascination with computer games, particularly among the generation who will look back and wonder where their vital, productive years were spent, totally appalls me. Burying your head in fantasy graphics is an addictive dumbing down of the future.
‘Nuff said.
