Diablo IV and the Weight We Carry Into Games

Gaming reflections from the pause menu of life

Diablo IV pulled me in the moment it loaded for the first time. The muddy streets of Kyovashad, the whisper of wind through the trees, the cold crunch of snow beneath my barbarian’s boots. It felt like a place I could immerse myself in and breath for awhile. A place to quest and escape daily life for awhile.

But that feeling didn’t last. A few hours later, the weight of my week followed me into the game. Every icon on the map looked like one more thing to keep up with. It was then that I realized I wasn’t looking for a grind. I was looking for rest.

However, I kept playing, clearing zones, grabbing gear, and pushing through the campaign. Then I hit that familiar moment so many of us who have played, know. I opened the map and stared at the clusters of symbols, side quests, strongholds, world events, and even seasonal tasks. The world was huge, but instead of feeling excited, I felt discouraged. I felt worn down. Not just with Diablo IV, but with the way I had been approaching games in general lately. My backlog had stopped feeling like possibility. It had started feeling like a near constant source of pressure. Like a subtle voice in the background reminding me that I was behind.

One afternoon I was deep in a dungeon in Diablo IV, it was a fairly standard dungeon, dark, dingy, skeletons were strewn everywhere, and cobwebs seemed to lace every dark corner.

My house was quiet except for the swish swash of the washing machine and the low hum of the dryer in the background, this was a perfect time to re-commit to immersing myself into the Diablo IV universe. My kids were even asleep! For a moment, it felt like borrowed time. So, I explored. The loot beam in the next chamber looked promising. And before I had taken more than a step towards that chamber, my kids woke up from their naps. Gaming time was over. I turned the console off and never went back. I still wonder what treasure laid up ahead in that room. I still wonder what I missed. That tiny unfinished moment became a symbol of something bigger for me. There will always be loot left behind. There will always be parts of games we never get to see.

It took time for me to realize the worn down feeling I was experiencing wasn’t about Diablo IV. It was about pace of life. It was about trying to carry the speed of a packed day into the one space that was supposed to help me slow down. I was playing like I owed something to the game instead of letting the game offer something to me.

One night, not too long after, I returned to Diablo IV with a different intention. I ignored the numbers glowing at the bottom of the screen. I ignored the seasonal bar, the gear score nudges, the timed events. I just walked the countryside, dispatching whatever unfortunate demons got in my way. My barbarian moved slowly along a snow covered ridge while a blizzard howled through the night. I noticed the way the wind pulled at the trees. I noticed how the torches flickered when I passed them. And for the first time in awhile, the game felt like a place to relax and experience again, not a task.

That realization shifted something for me. Games stop being restorative when I treat them like obligations. And backlogs stop feeling heavy when I stop treating them like tasks on a to do list. These games are not expectations. They are invitations. They are small pockets of joy I should be able to pick up and put down without guilt.

Here is the truth I keep coming back to. You are allowed to be tired. You are allowed to play slowly. You are allowed to leave loot on the ground and walk away. Life is full and demanding, and none of us are meant to sprint through all of it. Rest is not the opposite of progress. Sometimes it is the only way forward.

I still think about that dungeon I bailed on, from time to time. Maybe I will go back someday. Maybe I never will, at this point, I highly doubt it. But the wondering does not bother me anymore. That unfinished room feels like permission to play at a human pace. It reminds me that not every chamber needs to be cleared, not every piece of loot needs to be collected, and not every moment in life needs to be maximized. Some things can stay unfinished and still be meaningful.

So, if your backlog feels heavy, choose one small thing that calls to you. Not the thing you think you should finish. The thing that feels gentle and doable today. Even a few quiet minutes can be enough. That’s real progress. That is how we find joy again.

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Reader Discussion:

💬What is one game you stepped away from when life got busy, and what did it teach you about the pace you needed at that time?

Disclaimer:

This post contains commentary on Diablo IV, developed and published by Blizzard Entertainment. This newsletter is not affiliated with or endorsed by Blizzard Entertainment or any related entities. All trademarks, visual references, and game content referenced belong to their respective owners. This article reflects personal commentary and transformative analysis, consistent with fair use and fair dealing copyright guidelines. Image generated using DALL·E by OpenAI (2025); not affiliated with or representative of any official game assets. I do not claim copyright ownership of any of the game’s content.