Some good ideas, i like the demon possesion thing.
Blizzard will want to make it a really fast kill so that the game can continue at the pace they want it, especially if its a MP game and other guys are still fighting the same beast. So think quick fatalities.
i would think some sort of telekenetic fatality would be cool. Perhaps using the physx in the game, for example: monster uses telekenisis to move a huge boulder to crush you to death, or even better to use a sharp object to skewer you with, pinning you to the closest wall.
Also imagine if monster grabs you in one hand, crushes you, making your full plate mail armour seem like tin foil and throwing your paralysed body into your party members knocking them from there feet.
Also would be cool to see a poison death, watch your guy writh in agony while the poison makes its way through the blood stream. Perhaps add some choking effects in there or something, lol.
67. A powerful demon rips a hole in the ground, summoning a dozen Fallen Imps, and quickly grabs one in each of the demon's many hands and hurls the Imps at you (killing the imps in the process). He continues, throwing the imps faster and faster until all the imps are gone, blood spewing forth upon each impact. Then the great demon shoves his hands into the ground again, and this time, a massive pair of jaws come crashing out of the ground to engulf the hero. The jaws chomp down, leaving only your head to bounce around, until it comes to settle in a pool of your own blood.
Massive force of particles forced into the body's internal organs, causing the internal fluids to violently vibrate. With the speed of the particles and vibrations of the fluids, many particles collide creating a miniature black hole consuming all parts of the body... Side effect: Anything within 25 feet (2 screens) gets slowly sucked in to, meaning possible team killing
boss freezes you standing straight and reaches over and crushes your head leaving your body by itself before your upper torso shatters leaving the rest crumbles to the ground; semi-slowmo and just a moment afterwards.
add me if you want to^^
Europe non ladder and ladder player
I'm gonna put my highrune in your socket
flyarion, flyarion_third, flyarion_fourth, flyarion_fifth
u get pulverised and facemelted. then after, what's left over is turned inside out and explodes after your bones are squeezed out. fun! =D
lorenado?
Quote from "snillum101" »
The boss bitch-slaps you to the ground and holds you down as he casts an Ice beam at you, you struggle but in the end are frozen trying to sit up with one arm outstretched. Your corpse then becomes a permanent feature of the map. It would be cool if different people died in different positions so the battlefield could be littered with varied ice corpses.
The demon boss summons from de depths of hell... the two rainbow unicorns from the diablo 3 shirt. Then, the unicorns say (in a "we-are-in-a-baby-tv-show" fashion) "AAh, fresh meat!". Then they both rush on you an rip your flesh, eating it with little baby laughs as background. Blood splash everywhere and even the unicorns are tainted with it, until there is nothing left but bones.
77. You get chopped up like a thin sliced ham, the boss has two big meat cleavers. He knocks you down and slices you like a cook would slice a cucumber.
#78. Your health has been reduced to 1 point due to being poisoned, instead of turning back for town you press on eventually kicking a trapped barrel.. *BOOM* RIP
The demon slams you against a wall, all but knocking the life out of you. You slide slowly down the stone, slump at the bottom, gaze unfocused as the beast slowly walks over to you, the claws on his feet quietly clicking against the unpolished granite of the dungeon floor.
As he reaches you, you try to look up, to make one last stand, but your limbs won't respond to your mind's frantic orders, tendons snap and muscles convulse as you try to force arms that are already dead to lift a weapon that you know won't be able to save you.
The demon stops before you, reaches out a clawed hand to tilt your head back, almost tenderly, almost maternal. Thoughts of your mother rush into your slowly dying brain. Her incessant, ignored hopes for your future come filtering up from the depths of your memory.
What if you had followed her advice, instead of becoming a warrior? What if you'd put aside the sword, ignored the axe, and allowed your mother's years of wisdom to guide your future?
Your gaze moves, slowly, unwillingly but out of your control, and meets the burning pits where the demon's eyes should be.
Something happens, the world around you changes.
Is it a gesture of mercy, a gift? Is it one last torture? Is it simply a curious whim?
The demon shows you what could have been.
There's a flash, and it's around you. You've taken your mother's advice. Books sit before you, not battle tactics, but the secrets of medicine. You learn, swiftly. You're good at this. Very good. You can feel the knowledge not sinking into your brain but flowing. You know this. This is right.
Another flash, and on your hat, where once a heavy steel helmet sat, bestowing upon you otherworldly strength, sits a small black cap, a square on top, a swinging tassel. Draped around is a black cloak, not heavy, enchanted leather and chain, black from dirt and the long-dried blood of foes, but simple black cloth. It suits you. You're graduating, head of the class.
Once more a flash, and you're in a white building, the black cloak replaced with something white, more practical. Around your neck there is no charm of strength, but a stethoscope. You've made it. You're a doctor. You see your daily rounds sped up, see the people smile to see you. You help them, you cure them. You're very, very good at your job. Your colleagues smile to see you, a smile filled with respect and admiration. You feel warm in the glow of their affection.
One last flash, and you're old. You sit in a comfortable chair, not a nursing home, but an extremely well-appointed manor home. You need no one to look after you, a lifetime of healthy, hard, cleansing work has left you well in control of your body and mind. You smoke a cigar, a gift from a man who's daughter you saved. Around you are photos of friends, family. On the wall are framed certificates, awards you've received for astonishing work you achieved in your life. You look around, you smile. You are content.
It melts away, dissolves.
You're back in your broken body, gazing at the demon before you, blood dripping from his open mouth onto your filthy armour, blending with the blood of thousands of others, one more drop of pain onto an outfit made to ease the causing of it.
The house, the family, the awards, the knowledge,the success.
The hospital.
The doctor.
All are gone.
All have vanished.
But the smile remains.
You look away from the demon as he raises one clawed hand to end your all-to-short life. You gaze at a shrine just out of reach, red ichor overflowing from it's bowl: the only healing you've ever known. You straighten the lapel of an imaginary white coat, shrug your shoulders slightly to make the imaginary stethoscope sit a little more comfortable.
You turn your face to the cool wall behind you, a small comfort, here at the end.
You whisper into the stone, very softly, through the blood, the sweat. Through that smile, still lingering on your lips.
"I could have helped people. I would have worked miracles."
the boss cast a magic orb and imprison you there, then shrink it until it disappear... like in the "sin war"... technically you wouldn't be dead.. but, anyway, i think it would be fun...
Blizzard will want to make it a really fast kill so that the game can continue at the pace they want it, especially if its a MP game and other guys are still fighting the same beast. So think quick fatalities.
i would think some sort of telekenetic fatality would be cool. Perhaps using the physx in the game, for example: monster uses telekenisis to move a huge boulder to crush you to death, or even better to use a sharp object to skewer you with, pinning you to the closest wall.
Also imagine if monster grabs you in one hand, crushes you, making your full plate mail armour seem like tin foil and throwing your paralysed body into your party members knocking them from there feet.
Also would be cool to see a poison death, watch your guy writh in agony while the poison makes its way through the blood stream. Perhaps add some choking effects in there or something, lol.
yeah!! that would be EPIC
nice one!! with a big "pop" sound at the end
Your head explodes.
add me if you want to^^
Europe non ladder and ladder player
I'm gonna put my highrune in your socket
flyarion, flyarion_third, flyarion_fourth, flyarion_fifth
lorenado?
best...death...ever... *pose death*
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Fuck you, I'm a dragon.
As he reaches you, you try to look up, to make one last stand, but your limbs won't respond to your mind's frantic orders, tendons snap and muscles convulse as you try to force arms that are already dead to lift a weapon that you know won't be able to save you.
The demon stops before you, reaches out a clawed hand to tilt your head back, almost tenderly, almost maternal. Thoughts of your mother rush into your slowly dying brain. Her incessant, ignored hopes for your future come filtering up from the depths of your memory.
What if you had followed her advice, instead of becoming a warrior? What if you'd put aside the sword, ignored the axe, and allowed your mother's years of wisdom to guide your future?
Your gaze moves, slowly, unwillingly but out of your control, and meets the burning pits where the demon's eyes should be.
Something happens, the world around you changes.
Is it a gesture of mercy, a gift? Is it one last torture? Is it simply a curious whim?
The demon shows you what could have been.
There's a flash, and it's around you. You've taken your mother's advice. Books sit before you, not battle tactics, but the secrets of medicine. You learn, swiftly. You're good at this. Very good. You can feel the knowledge not sinking into your brain but flowing. You know this. This is right.
Another flash, and on your hat, where once a heavy steel helmet sat, bestowing upon you otherworldly strength, sits a small black cap, a square on top, a swinging tassel. Draped around is a black cloak, not heavy, enchanted leather and chain, black from dirt and the long-dried blood of foes, but simple black cloth. It suits you. You're graduating, head of the class.
Once more a flash, and you're in a white building, the black cloak replaced with something white, more practical. Around your neck there is no charm of strength, but a stethoscope. You've made it. You're a doctor. You see your daily rounds sped up, see the people smile to see you. You help them, you cure them. You're very, very good at your job. Your colleagues smile to see you, a smile filled with respect and admiration. You feel warm in the glow of their affection.
One last flash, and you're old. You sit in a comfortable chair, not a nursing home, but an extremely well-appointed manor home. You need no one to look after you, a lifetime of healthy, hard, cleansing work has left you well in control of your body and mind. You smoke a cigar, a gift from a man who's daughter you saved. Around you are photos of friends, family. On the wall are framed certificates, awards you've received for astonishing work you achieved in your life. You look around, you smile. You are content.
It melts away, dissolves.
You're back in your broken body, gazing at the demon before you, blood dripping from his open mouth onto your filthy armour, blending with the blood of thousands of others, one more drop of pain onto an outfit made to ease the causing of it.
The house, the family, the awards, the knowledge,the success.
The hospital.
The doctor.
All are gone.
All have vanished.
But the smile remains.
You look away from the demon as he raises one clawed hand to end your all-to-short life. You gaze at a shrine just out of reach, red ichor overflowing from it's bowl: the only healing you've ever known. You straighten the lapel of an imaginary white coat, shrug your shoulders slightly to make the imaginary stethoscope sit a little more comfortable.
You turn your face to the cool wall behind you, a small comfort, here at the end.
You whisper into the stone, very softly, through the blood, the sweat. Through that smile, still lingering on your lips.
"I could have helped people. I would have worked miracles."
The beast's hand descends, swiftly.
You die.
b.net profile
Or Less than 10hp causes hallucinations of some sort with guy trying to attack with blurry warped screen. Then eventually dies.
Win lol