Crushing Diablo 3's Treasure Goblins
WHY I LOVE
In Why I Love , PC Gamer writers pick an aspect of PC gaming that they love and write about why it's brilliant.
, PC Gamer writers pick an aspect of PC gaming that they love and write about why it's brilliant. Today, Tom lets no treasure goblin escape righteous justice in Diablo 3.
I love them, but I'm afraid I don't have any screenshots of Diablo 3's treasure goblins. I snap any monster that looks interesting, normally. I even risk my life by zooming in to get flashier pics, but one Diablo fiend remains conspicuously absent from my library of combat selfies.
That's because the moment one of these cheeky thieving imps appear, I'm seized by an ass-clenching moment of panic, and then a sudden overwhelming sense of purpose. The hundreds of demons charging in to kill me? They're nothing. The goblin must die. Everything else is forgotten.
That's why they run, I suppose. They shed ingots and arcane rings like rabbit droppings as they pitter-patter away. They always seem so quick. When they think they've lost you they put up a portal and pogo, cackling, into the greed dimension. Agonising.
I do anything in my power to keep them in my reality. I exploit the huge range of my wizard's laser to scorch them in the back. The gravity-mashing effect of my black hole spell doesn't seem to bother them, and they barely falter when my meteor lands on heir heads. Frankly, catching them would be a hopeless task were it not for my legendary gauntlets. They give my wizard a sudden burst of speed when he breaks furniture. I don't know why, but it's very useful.
When the creature stops I evaporate a chair, or some other innocent appliance, and use the magical rocket boost to close the gap. If they try to conjure a portal, I discourage them with a rapid blast of fire. They keep running of course, and—this may be paranoia—they seem to intentionally seek out elite mobs to cover their escape. What gives? I'm just a friendly demigod that wants to steal their loot, and maybe wear their skulls as an intelligence-boosting hat.
It's all worth it for the moment they pop. The spew gold and loot everywhere. It's a fountain. It's rains treasure. Loot is the engine that powers Diablo 3; it is your purpose. A sudden well-earned windfall feels amazing. That's probably why Blizzard has added different breeds of treasure goblin that explode into different shades of loot.
One treasure goblin is bad enough, the bandit shrines are almost cruel. On activation they spawn half a dozen goblins, who proceed to flee in every direction, leaking priceless gems in their wake. Suddenly I'm a dog in a ball-pit, paralysed, unable to process the abundance of opportunity. I hold down right-mouse and wildly spin while holding the laser button, hoping to immolate a couple before they escape.
If I struggle to process the bandit shrines, I worry to think about what will happen when I finally encounter The Vault: the treasure goblin dimension ruled by Baroness Greed. Whatever meltdown I experience, I doubt I'll have the wherewithal to hit the screenshot key. I may never be able to capture my moment of victory over these little monsters, but at least I'll be stinking rich.
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