I almost cried yesterday. It appears my great wonderful friend Griswald has been possessed by the demons. He tried to attack me, and I had no choice but destroy him. RIP. This man helped me through many tough situations by offering great weapons at affordable prices. He was such a great man. An honest man. Now I have killed him. 
I had no choice.
All the others were dead… the drunkered, the healer, the bar lady, and Wirt. Though I am not too upset about that peg legged little bitch. I don’t know how many times I gave that scrawny bastard some money, only to be shown some piece of sh*t Club of Disease. I was almost happy to see him lying there rotting. What’s more, I took all the gold he had in his pockets. That little thief had tons of gold. Oh, and I took his peg leg and locked it up in my trunk. He will not be needing it where he is.
In all this heartbreak there was some good. I was able to rescue Cain, and get him the hell out of there. Poor guy is looking rough.
Anyway, I just thought I would share my feelings…
any of you ever been in a situation like this? How did you feel? How did you cope?
uuuhhhhhhhh…
You ok there Bear? Getting out of the house enough? Taking your meds?
I unfortunately, could not fully appreciate looting Wirt’s body in II, because I hadn’t played I. From what I hear (and read), it is one of the more satisfying feelings ever.
And oldscratch, if you think this is bad, let me lay one on you: we ordered pizza the day after buying Diablo II. Maeglin is playing it in the next room (normal volume). I open the door, the guy hands me the pizza, and immediately (without even physically having the time to listen carefully) says “Is that Diablo II?” Geesh!
I’ve had the game since just about its first week, and I finally killed Diablo over Thanksgiving. Kind of a letdown. But anyway. I found a character editor and created a Necromancer with 20 points in every skill. That means I could raise 20 skeleton mages, 20 skeletons, and 20 revived monsters. And a golem. Then I got a free rogue hireling. Woo-hoo! I am a one man army.
Bear_Nenno, I feel for you, I really do.
Just yesterday I used one of my patriotic worms (they did, after all have a flag claiming them as Americans, though their accent might well be considered Canadian) to home in on a member of the Royalty in a deathmatch battle royale. Problem was, I held onto my guided missle for an instant too long. So while Prince Charles went flying across the screen, the tin drum next to him exploded in a fire to shame Hades.
I could blame the wind, really I could, but that would be the coward’s way out. In truth it was I, and not any natural forces, that took my own worm from me. He skipped along the flames, bounced off a cliff, and, with his little wormy hide scrunched up ever so close to him, splashed down into the deap blue sea, never to return. I shouted at him that I was sorry, that I didn’t mean it. But he sank nevertheless, his wormlike eye staring at me with a cold glaze that chilled my soul.
The game goes on, my friend. Learn to embrace the tretchery in your heart.