The first moments I spent in Path of Exile 2 felt like stepping through a portal into another world—one teeming with secrets, hardship, and unspoken promises of greatness. As I navigated Wraeclast’s twisting paths, each new monster I felled and every piece of loot I claimed seemed to peel back another layer of my old self. Before I knew it, the game’s unforgiving landscapes and brutal encounters stopped being something I observed through a screen and started feeling like raw, living energy surging through my veins. By the end of the first night, I was no longer just playing the game; I was living it.

On the second evening, after many hours spent seizing treasures in cursed catacombs and trading blows with mighty bosses, I emerged from my apartment and slipped into the real night. The city streets were cold and hard, cast in a dim glow by distant streetlights. I roamed like a lost adventurer fresh out of my starting camp, expecting to find hidden stashes behind dumpsters, dangerous foes lurking in alleyways, and legendary vendors nestled in broken doorways. The further I wandered, the more deliriously convinced I became that I was one step away from a rare drop or a secret waypoint.

By sunrise, rain-soaked and trembling, I found myself curled up in a ditch, stripped of dignity and sense, tears mixing with the downpour. Yet the reason I wept wasn’t my pitiful state. It was because Path of Exile 2 had shaken me to my core. The game had burrowed inside me, making its complexity, brutality, and brilliance feel as essential as the air I breathed. Its allure transcended the screen, reducing me to a fervent believer. Naked, cold, and cradled by the mud, I cried at the beauty of it all, knowing this masterpiece had forever changed me.

TL;DR: POE2 absolutely ****s on Diablo 4.