The Underworld has known many names: the Mayans called is Xibalba; to the Norse, Hel. Christians call it "Hell" you posers. All describe a realm of torment - suffering unimaginable and without end - rendering its lifeless inhabitants without even the breath to spit a spiteful curse toward Divinity. Such is the the case with Diablo III - not simply in its setting, but also, for an unfortunate set of gamers, in its experience. For in the deepest circle of the Underworld, orbiting around the throne of Lord Beelzebub like some kind of ghastly satellite, there lies the realm of "Error 37."

Indeed, in what has quickly become an internet meme, many gamers have found their anticipation of Diablo III rather deadened by their inability to actually play the game. Exacerbated by Blizzard's "online only" requirement, eager gamers have collectively stormed the ramparts. As a result, the company has found itself unable to fully accommodate them, resulting in the dreaded error message.

Now to play the devil's advocate (no pun intended), the anticipation for Diablo III has been somewhere in between "vast" and "utterly vast," so it's no surprise that servers received a torrent of requests on the first full day of its release. Moreover, it would no doubt require a comical amount of bandwidth to accommodate the first, frantic days of the game's release - Diablo III's servers went down for "emergency maintenance" to fix the problems - and those working in Blizzard's customer service undoubtedly find themselves fielding angry email after email, slowly dying inside with each caustic paragraph. Moreover, given the nature of the internet, it's difficult to gauge how much of Diablo III's player base has experienced the issue.

Still, it's an ordeal, particularly for those who took the day off, and will certainly result in backlash against the company. For those still affected, and as a mini-PSA (call it "Minnesota Nice" gone awry), I urge you to not to take out your frustration on the customer service reps. Being the official retail dreg of Gay Gamer, I know that dealing with a flood of angry customers, however justified said anger may be, is incredibly tiresome - particularly when it's not your fault. Customer service representatives constitute a sort of phalanx: taking the flak so that their bosses, the ones who actually see that Diablo money, will never have to deal with you. By all means, express your displeasure - you have, in effect, paid retail price for a loading screen - but I would humbly ask that you do so constructively, as those on the receiving end have been afforded little to no power and, as per standard corporate practice, serve a kind of all-purpose kicking post in unpleasant circumstances. In the meantime, gamers are encouraged to view a sneak peek at the first hour of Diablo III, courtesy of imgur.

Reading over Rob Zacny's excellent piece on The Darkness II, You Don't Know Jackie, I realized I had never actually written what I wanted about the game; particularly since I rather enjoyed the first one and felt it has been an under appreciated game. I don't necessarily disagree with Zacny, about the tiring aspects of the arcade point shoot-em-up qualities, or the fact that the centuries old brotherhood you're fighting doesn't really propel the plot in an interesting fashion. However, what I took from the game was its thematic concerns with what reality is.

The first game's brilliance came in how it questioned free will, particularly in a videogame. Whenever I am asked about moments in gaming that truly affected me, my mind jumps back to that moment where the titular Darkness stops me from interacting with a cutscene. It is a cutscene: I'm not supposed to be interacting with it, but the fact that the game went out of its way to make sure I understood why, was particularly brilliant. The rest of the game blurs in that fashion, but it was such a defining moment that it had me wonder what exactly Jackie had control over.

The answer was: whatever I could control, and nothing more. Jackie had no free will. He was a puppet not only to the Darkness that lived inside him and controlled him forcibly at times, but my controller, which dictated how he even fought, which powers he learned, and moved him about as a doll in particularly dark set pieces.

Given such, I am less interested in the small pieces that make up an Aristotelian plot diagram for our anti-hero Jackie Estacado, and more interested in what the game tries to push in terms of philosophical questions.

There be spoilers ahead!

Between sections of accruing points from impaling, slicing, and shooting enemies, there are segments where Jackie ends up in an asylum. The premise is that Jackie may well be delusional and crazy: the same cast of characters he deals with in the other world (mostly consisting of his mob companions and his antagonist) are there -- including his dead girlfriend Jenny. The doctors treat his visions about the Darkness and stories he tells as a dangerous episode. It's certainly not a new storytelling technique, but it hasn't quite worn out its welcome, particularly when dealing with demonically possessed mob bosses.