In the wickedly torturous and somehow, against all odds, absurdly bureaucratic labyrinths of Diablo IV, our band of misfit adventurers, no doubt led by some cosmic design or more likely a complete lack of anything better to do, came upon a chamber. It wasn't just any ordinary chamber (if you could even call any room in the eldritch, spine-chilling underworld of Diablo IV 'ordinary') – this was a room that glowed, quite against the laws of physics and interior design, with an unyielding aura of emerald obsidian. The effect was remarkably similar to disco ball lighting, which led to an impromptu and terribly off-key rendition of "Stayin' Alive".
Craig, whose commitment to recklessness was only rivalled by his ill-advised belief in his own invincibility, was egged on by Dave. Now, Dave was the kind of person who would encourage you to touch a live wire just to confirm it was indeed live. His notion of fun was just a few shades shy of a health and safety nightmare. Nevertheless, Craig, in an act of what could only be described as supreme overconfidence, decided to try out his teleport leap. The goal was simple, to leap to a lower section of the chamber, a feat no doubt intended to impress us or perhaps to secure his place in the annals of misjudged video game decisions.
But, as anyone who had paid attention to the manual (which, we could all agree, was no one), the teleport leap came with one rather irksome drawback – there was no return ticket. Much to his chagrin and our collective amusement, Craig found himself stuck in the depths of the dungeon, surrounded by all manner of unspeakable horrors and, perhaps worse, his own wounded pride.
With the raucous laughter still echoing in our headsets, we resigned ourselves to the inevitable. With the air of a procession heading for a second-rate amusement park, we began our slow and arduously unimpressive descent to reunite with our stranded compatriot. After all, what are friends for if not to revel in your momentary blunders before begrudgingly coming to your aid?
