Gamer Philosophy pt. 3

I have a new article concerning Diablo II, entitled:

“Necromancer: Thoughts on Diablo II’s Necromancer Class, of and Related to his Characteristics and Playing Style, or Philosophy of Control Style, Required to Play him, in Which the Skeleton Summoner Style, Which is Sometimes Called, I Believe, ‘Fishymancer,’ is the Primary Focus”

Recently I started playing a Summoner in Diablo II, and decided to make a skeleton necromancer, since it seems that that is the very heart and soul of what a necromancer is supposed to be. While the poison and bone spell trees are all well and good, I’ve always thought the appeal of a necromancer is to summon a massive horde of undead servants to do your bidding. Too bad Blizzard made it near impossible to kill anything in the later difficulties to even make a corpse from which your skeletal children can spring, causing a fair annoyance whenever I start a new game, since all your summoned minions die once you exit the game, but damn it all, I just had to make one, for my soul, my life to breathe once more. Little did I know it would lead to such an insight, to the revelation, the epiphany on the nature of the gamer, that even my own sturdily built mind is nearly blown away as easily as a house of straw by the huffings and puffings of an angry canine.

Now, aside from summoning creatures or raising the dead, the main skill for a necromancer to succeed is his “curses.” These curses are cast on the enemies and have a variety of wonderful effects, from amplifying the physical damage dealt to them to making them run in fear, slowing them down, or even having them fight each other while your minions hack away. The most powerful and useful curses are the ones that affect the enemy AI, such as Terror, which make the enemies run in simulated terror, and Dim Vision, which curses enemies into blindness and leaves them helpless. These AI curses are very necessary, since you have no direct control over your own minions, whose own intelligence leaves much to be desired (sorry guys, sad but true). Since your undead army refuses to focus fire, take out strategic targets and cooperate in deadly guerilla warfare on their own, the player is left to disable key targets and groups with his curses.

As the necromancer plays, a good player gets into a rhythm: curse, curse, summon, curse (depending on the situation). As one skeleton falls, another is raised. As one group of enemies comes, a certain curse is used. As a group of Flesh Beasts or Doom Knights comes, Iron Maiden is cast, reflecting their physical damage back to them. As a group of Pit Lords comes, DimVision is cast so their powerful flame breath is disabled. As one skeleton dies, Raise Skeleton is cast to replace is. Curse, curse, summon, curse, summon, summon, curse…as I played, I found that what the curses do is create order from the chaos. It’s the player’s job to use the right curses at the right time, and this gives your minions a chance to shine.

As I continued in the rhythm of battle, I realized that the necromancer is a conductor and his minions an orchestra. Just as the conductor directs an orchestra according to his artistic will, so the necromancer’s minions play out his creative vision; just as a conductor conducts the movements of a symphony, so too does the gamer conduct the movements of a battle. It is then that I realized that the true gamer is an artist, a creative being of the highest order, to which I had to give my due praise to.

An act of creation, as opposed to destruction, is perhaps the most noble thing a human being can aspire to do. It is far nobler to create a Mona Lisa, or a Citizen Kane, or a Resident Evil 4, or even give birth to a child, than it is to murder, mutilate, rape and pillage. It is far greater to give birth to beauty and order than to chaos and destruction. Rather than resembling a Hitler, a Stalin, a Ted Bundy, I find true gamers to be akin to a Dante, a Homer, a Michelangelo, a Shigeru Miyamoto–a supremely creative soul, a poet, an artist in the truest sense of the word.