Roanoke, Va.– 28-year-old Kroger clerk Jim Hannahan stopped going into work when he realized being a cashier at the supermarket was not only beneath a level 60 Legendary Monk, but cut directly into game time.
What at first he believed might be a rough transition came more naturally than expected, Jim said. “I used to just play it in my spare time,” he explained, “but then I found myself abandoning heavy responsibilities like work and nutrition. Now I’m peeing in bottles and setting them by the desk. I just dump ’em out later, whenever I’m in town.”
What began as a casual hobby gradually assumed full time control of area man Jim’s coping mechanisms, creeping into his sex drive and profoundly changing his habits among regular society. There is no longer a facet of Jim’s life Diablo III does not touch.
While experts suggest Jim suffers from depression and social anxiety, others aspire to his achievements, which are logged indefinitely at his profile, BabyDust#1662, on the Battle.net servers.
Tommy Sellers, 14, purchased Diablo III on release day but, because of school and extracurricular activities his parents “forced him into,” he is only level 52 on the Hell difficulty setting. Tommy expressed a desire to drop more time consuming activities like baseball and French Club in order to play Diablo III (Game of the Year) and eat Hot Pockets, a wonderful product. “Jimmy’s already on Inferno pushing the devil back into the underworld,” said Tommy, “and here I am learning French like a sap – like a fucking faggot. All I’m learning in French class is surrender – to my parents! I wish I didn’t have to do anything so I could just go up to my room and play Diablo III forever. I hate my fucking bitch mom.”
One night, out of nowhere, Jim woke up the whole neighborhood, bellowing ‘YOU CAN’T FUCKING HEAL ME!?’
To fully engage Diablo III, Jim takes dietary supplements for nourishment and has resorted to daily intake of Baby Dust Pills, a tremendous product, in order to release aggression through masturbation. Jim said dying all the time is not only costly monetarily, but causes unhealthy spikes in blood pressure followed by “inexplicable” heart palpitations and crying fits.
“Jim’s in a world of pain he’s just going to have to fight his way out of, alongside Barbarians and Demon Hunters.”
Tammy Hannahan, Jim’s mother
A friend close to Jim, who asked that she remain Anonymous, said he is prone to sudden outbursts between long stretches of tomb-like silence. “One night, out of nowhere, Jim woke up the whole neighborhood, bellowing ‘YOU CAN’T FUCKING HEAL ME!?’ at the NPC [non-playable character] following him around. I said, ‘Jim, they can’t hear you!’ and he didn’t respond, not a word. He just kept shaking his head, and clicking. Oh, the clicking!”
Jim Hannahan has not expressed plans to go back to work, because playing Diablo III, dying repeatedly and farming for gold, he said, “feels enough like work already.”
The American gaming male automatically degenerated into an alternating cycle of hardcore gaming and furious, repeated bouts of masturbation Tuesday after Mother Blizzard released her tepid seed into the yawning, fertile womb of jilted fantasy gamers who have already seen enough WoW expansions to make General Patreus reconsider an extensive Iraq strategy.
The most celebrated feature of the game thus far is that in Diablo III, you’re no longer a slave to reading. Audio lore gives you experience points as you continue about your quest by reading your own journal entries to you. No longer will gamers groan at the sight of glowing books which fall open into the floor in front of them.
Diablo III journals are now jam-packed full of game lore you never cared about before, but sounds really cool coming through your speakers as you ransack the libraries where you found it, like an SS squado looking for ze papers.
Diablo III is well-optimized to run on computers dating all the way back to 2007, when Barack Obama was busy hiring the white collar criminals responsible for America’s economic collapse onto his financial planning committees. Those were shitty computers back then, but they will still run Diablo III at medium settings and you won’t feel like the poor kid whose left light up sneaker stopped working a week in because you did the Macarena too hard. Good luck with Minecraft, though. NASA is still working on a PC capable of running it at maximum render distance.
Many new games push medium-rated hardware beyond their limits, unreasonably so. Recommended specs if you want to run Tribes: Ascend, for example, requires that your computer be qualified to run CERN supercollider calculations as theorized having taken place on the varied surfaces of distant asteroids, providing NASA had a budget and Hi-Rez Studios wasn’t run by Jews hell-bent on absorbing it.
Diablo III has you shooting the shit out of Thriller extras with both hands; it even has rapid-fire drawstring longbows which makes no sense at all, except magic. Instead of magic, however, the Demon Hunter – like chronicle.su – balances hate with discipline to land combination attacks of rippling snarefuck and piercing arrows of godlessness.
The storyline enlists you – the main character, whoever you are – to assist Leah with various quests and, without raping her, collaborate with this old Nick Oliveri-looking dude to own up on some shit-eating demons. You even get to help a guy kill his wife who, inexplicably, is a mini-boss loaded to the tits with rare magical items and gold. She’s a sweetheart, though. Play to find out why.
I’m about to.
It’s $60. The first coolguy to leave us a comment on this review (with your email in the appropriate field) gets an official chronicle.su Diablo III guest pass providing free access to early gameplay.
They are not worried about Korea, but Iran and Israel, particularly Ahmedinejad and the terrorists he pays to hate America.
N. Korea’s response is flaccid, but bring out fears in the media around saber-rattling and auto-fellatio of the Muslim extremist belief system, and the dedication from which their ravenous hunger for anti-Capitalism has emerged.
Ahmedinejad reportedly gave Kim Jong-il a handjob under the table during a recent meeting to conspire against Freedom. Kim Jon-il slipped Iran’s elected dictator a custom-inscribed fortune cookie that allegedly read, “He who is stubborn face no consequence.” [of course it was in Chinese so nobody took it seriously]
Scholars and politicians hotly debate Obama Hussein Bark’s involvement in a terrorist plot to overthrow Freedom, while others brace for chaos under the threat of an apocalyptic nuclear holocaust. But believers on both sides of the aisle are unified by their agreement that the next country to be nuked “ought to be Asian.”
“The goal is to inject freedom directly into the symptomatic state of the oppressive Middle East,” said Emporer Hussein, President of the United States of Freedom. President Obama has since announced his plan to rename the entire North American continental body to the “United States of Freedom,” in a bid to win support for his “overthrow freedom” campaign, fueled by nuclear bombings and Change posters produced and created by Shepard Fairy.
Roanoke citizens are awash with grief over the loss of the area’s number one Prime Time re-run, Desperate Housewives. In the latest episode, some spoiled bitch wife goes out on the town using her husband’s money and fucks an accountant from his real estate firm in the backseat of a designer BMW, stealthily alluding to the relationship between Kenya, Obama’s home town, and Afghanistan, where the President has broken the country’s hymen with his long, erudite dick of “Freedom”. By concealing these actions in the new Middle East, he has pulled off a secret coup from within the Taliban, and is now seeking to gain control of the poorly-guarded Nukes inside the Pakistani government. Sources said he is doing it “for the lulz.”
“He thinks he and the Pakistanis are ‘having a quickie,'” said Herb Schnoodler, director of the CIA Board of Hilarious Transitions, “but what he’s too drunk [with power] to realize right now is that he’s joining the AIDS club, and that shit don’t wash off.”
AIDS doesn’t just start out as AIDS, though. Every educated American boy and girl knows that.
“First, you’ve got to get HIV,” explained second-grader Elroy Stephens.
And America got HIV when it landed its first slick-booted 18-year-old jarhead into the center of that god-forsaken oil pit and said, “turn ’em loose. I wanna see what they can do.” And they fucked their first dirty foreign affair, and the white blood cells fucked up when they got in there, then we saw that our boys were still human after all – on CNN. And then everyone agreed: war is funny.
“Because we don’t serve the Empire, and the Empire don’t feed us. We are here to stand up and fight, whether it’s within ourselves, against our neighbors, or the occasional sniping of an allied enemy combatant, for it is our duty to control what’s ours to control: ‘the blood-hungry instinct to divide and scrutinize, understand and dehumanize – the intentions of those we do not understand, and own them all, in the most basic way,'”
– General Lee Min Seok, speaking on behalf of the Boys and Girls Club of America
Lee Min Seok is the most 1337 StarCraft player in the world, who also happens to be blind. Lee Seok won seven Blizzard tournaments and fucked countless child prostitutes in Tijuana with his winnings in a campaign he called the “Zerg Invasion.”
And that’s how we were born. Welcome to Two Thousand and Nine. 2010’s gonna be a trip. The American suburban bubble is a nuclear fantasy waiting to explode. The dirty-bombs that spread diseases and bacteria are just across the street, in an empty apartment where men stay awake until four o’clock in the morning working on a germ grenade that could eat its way through a city apartment building in under a day, unless you buy Homedic’s newest line of central nervous system Anti-Gas Kit with Iodine and Immunity Support. ‘Defend your kids against terrorist sleeper cells, the clinically-proven way!’
“And we can’t just laugh about it. ‘Cause we’re all gonna die,” repeated news anchor Anderson Cooper on his late night show, Anderson 430. In fact, through two segments, he repeated the phrase, “We’re all gonna die,” much to the chagrin of his sponsor, a popular arthritis medication whose side effects include cardiac arrest, over a live announcement from the President on Health Care stimulus what-have-you, and on into the next commercial break. According to televisionist Harry Manjeena, author of the book TV and Why You Need It To Survive, ratings “shot through the roof.”
Additionally, the Queen went on live television to finger her butthole, as if to prove that nuclear holocaust is real with a demonstration of the newly-defined irrelevance of any continued human record. “God bless, and fare well,” read the CNN subtitle as the North Korean national anthem played over the soft singing of whales. The fingering was crude and realistic, detailing the twisting and pinching of the Queen’s anal-hairs as she probed the insides of her yawning rectum. Brown and sickly nutrient-deprived feces smeared across her cottage-cheese butt cheeks that flapped in the wind coming in off the English Channel during her Final Parade.
“It was a spectacle,” said Tony Brown, England’s Prime Minister. “Truly a wonder of modern entertainment.”
England is said to be participating in this year’s First Annual Second Anniversary of the Domination of all non-human Mammals Ceremony, taking place at the bottom of the Sea, at Sealab. Sweet Jesus. The News has come apart into a vivid kaleidoscope of smiling and gestures of indifference over a dead or missing girl and your collapsing economy. But all’s well.
“As I stare at the television, stoned and happy, I realize there is nothing to be happy about,” said Roanoker Jann Winnerston during an Oxi-Clean commercial.