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Inevitable End of DBD?
Anyone ever notice that reviews for DBD are mostly positive but....
Most reviews come from newer players.
When sorting through reviews, if you look at most reviews from players with large amounts of hours, you'll notice they're mostly negative.
The playerbase seems larger because wait times are much quicker than they used to be but....
Most players seem to be console.
DBD was originally released on PC, and most PC players don't seem to play anymore. I feel DBD will be cycling through all platforms of playing and eventually end with no one wanting to play.
Just an opinionated observation.
Comments
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So long as they keep attracting new players with license DLC the game won't die. This game is a revolving door with new players coming in and old players going out.
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DBD is pretty close to being too big to fail.
There's no other games like it, and even if there are, they don't have as many licenses as DBD.
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Every game that is like it has been done in.
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I think no game is niche or big enough to fail!
If the older player base are the ones leaving then the developers should be really worried because the current in game balance is a pretty awful experience for SoloQ and duo players.
I’m just about clinging on with my 1 friend both sitting at about 1500 hours (started playing about 9 months ago) but games are becoming really stale lately.
This game isn’t really very new player friendly and we have struggled to get other friends interested.
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So long as DBD continues to have no competition, it will not die. Once something better comes out (if it does) then you should be more concerned.
And no HSH and Friday are not even close to competition for this game.
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All things die, Anakin Skywalker. even stars burn out.
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Well I hope a game called dark deception monsters and mortals rises to fame like DBD. Hell they even have licenses of their own, Monstrum, Silent Hill suprisingly, and even famous UK horror content creators as characters
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This is Anakin Skywalker:
The most powerful Jedi of his generation. Perhaps of any gen- eration. The fastest. The strongest. An unbeatable pilot. An un- stoppable warrior. On the ground, in the air or sea or space, there is no one even close. He has not just power, not just skill, but dash: that rare, invaluable combination of boldness and grace.
He is the best there is at what he does. The best there has ever been. And he knows it.
HoloNet features call him the Hero With No Fear. And why not? What should he be afraid of?
Except—
Fear lives inside him anyway, chewing away the firewalls around his heart.
Anakin sometimes thinks of the dread that eats at his heart as a dragon. Children on Tatooine tell each other of the dragons that live inside the suns; smaller cousins of the sun-dragons are supposed to live inside the fusion furnaces that power everything from starships to Podracers.
But Anakin’s fear is another kind of dragon. A cold kind. A dead kind.
Not nearly dead enough.
Not long after he became Obi-Wan’s Padawan, all those years ago, a minor mission had brought them to a dead system: one so immeasurably old that its star had long ago turned to a
frigid dwarf of hypercompacted trace metals, hovering a quantum fraction of a degree above absolute zero. Anakin couldn’t even remember what the mission might have been, but he’d never forgotten that dead star.
It had scared him. “Stars can die—?”
“It is the way of the universe, which is another manner of saying that it is the will of the Force,” Obi-Wan had told him. “Everything dies. In time, even stars burn out. This is why Jedi form no attachments: all things pass. To hold on to something— or someone—beyond its time is to set your selfish desires against the Force. That is a path of misery, Anakin; the Jedi do not walk it.”
That is the kind of fear that lives inside Anakin Skywalker: the dragon of that dead star. It is an ancient, cold dead voice within his heart that whispers all things die…
In bright day he can’t hear it; battle, a mission, even a report before the Jedi Council, can make him forget it’s even there. But at night—
At night, the walls he has built sometimes start to frost over. Sometimes they start to crack.
At night, the dead-star dragon sometimes sneaks through the cracks and crawls up into his brain and chews at the inside of his skull. The dragon whispers of what Anakin has lost. And what he will lose.
The dragon reminds him, every night, of how he held his dying mother in his arms, of how she had spent her last strength to say I knew you would come for me, Anakin…
The dragon reminds him, every night, that someday he will lose Obi-Wan. He will lose Padme. Or they will lose him.
All things die, Anakin Skywalker. Even stars burn out…
And the only answers he ever has for these dead cold whispers are his memories of Obi-Wan’s voice, or Yoda’s.
But sometimes he can’t quite remember them.
All things die…
He can barely even think about it.
But right now he doesn’t have a choice: the man he flies to rescue is a closer friend than he’d ever hoped to have. That’s what puts the edge in his voice when he tries to make a joke; that’s what flattens his mouth and tightens the burn-scar high on his right cheek.
The Supreme Chancellor has been family to Anakin: always there, always caring, always free with advice and unstinting aid. A sympathetic ear and a kindly, loving, unconditional acceptance of Anakin exactly as he is—the sort of acceptance Anakin could never get from another Jedi. Not even from Obi-Wan. He can tell Palpatine things he could never share with his Master.
He can tell Palpatine things he can’t even tell Padme.
Now the Supreme Chancellor is in the worst kind of danger. And Anakin is on his way despite the dread boiling through his blood. That’s what makes him a real hero. Not the way the HoloNet labels him; not without fear, but stronger than fear.
He looks the dragon in the eye and doesn’t even slow down.
If anyone can save Palpatine, Anakin will. Because he’s already the best, and he’s still getting better. But locked away behind the walls of his heart, the dragon that is his fear coils and squirms and hisses.
Because his real fear, in a universe where even stars can die, is that being the best will never be quite good enough."
Matthew Stover's ROTS novelization is simply poetic.
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