Thomas Mahler vs. Mike Ybarra: A Rare Moment of Accountability

The spark came when Thomas Mahler — director of Ori and the Blind Forest and No Rest for the Wicked — was told by former Blizzard president Mike Ybarra to stop “putting down” competitors like Diablo 4 while promoting his own game.

Mahler didn’t dodge. He detonated.

“Mike, real talk: You were put in charge of Diablo and you didn’t treat it with the respect it deserved. Diablo used to mean something. Diablo 2 was an utter masterpiece… You OK’d turning Diablo into a MTX slot machine where people can buy horse armor for $65.”

Ybarra fired back, calling Mahler’s comments “stupid” and accusing him of desperation. But Mahler doubled down — praising Path of Exile lead Chris Wilson as a modern successor to David Brevik, while accusing Blizzard’s leadership of doing irreparable damage to Diablo through Diablo Immortal and Diablo 4.

The internet erupted — not because of drama, but because Mahler said out loud what fans had been screaming into the void for over a decade.

This Isn’t Drama — It’s a Symptom

This exchange wasn’t about ego or marketing. It was about what happens when beloved franchises are handed to executives who see games as monetization platforms first, and art second.

Diablo didn’t “evolve.” It was financialized.

The Soul of Diablo 1 & 2: Gothic Masterpieces Built on Passion

Released in 1996 and 2000, Diablo and Diablo II: Lord of Destruction didn’t just define the ARPG genre — they perfected it.

Procedural dungeons, oppressive gothic atmosphere, and relentless loot-driven gameplay created obsession without live services, battle passes, or storefronts. Diablo II’s runewords, skill trees, mercenary system, and open trading enabled near-infinite builds — offline, moddable, and player-driven.

David Brevik and Blizzard North poured soul into Tristram’s despair, Andariel’s screams, and the oppressive silence between monster packs. No MTX. No shops. No psychological pricing. Just hell, loot, and obsession.

Even today, Diablo II: Resurrected remains shockingly healthy, often rivaling or surpassing newer entries in engagement:

Diablo 1 and 2 endure because they respect players. They trust the game to be the hook.

Diablo 3: The Auction House Betrayal

Diablo 3 launched in 2012 with enormous hype — and collapsed under its own design.

Always-online DRM punished solo players. The real-money auction house (RMAH) turned loot into a marketplace, warping progression around cash transactions. Blizzard balanced drop rates around the auction house, killing the core thrill: finding your own gear.

The backlash was immediate. The art style abandoned gothic horror for bright, WoW-like visuals. Fans openly protested at BlizzCon 2008: “This isn’t Diablo.”

The RMAH was finally shut down in 2014 — but the damage was permanent. Diablo 3 eventually stabilized post–Reaper of Souls, but it never recovered its identity.

Diablo 4: A Monetized Slot Machine Wearing Hell’s Skin

Diablo 4 promised a return to darkness. What it delivered was corporate optimization disguised as atmosphere.

The game generated over $1 billion in revenue, with an estimated $150 million coming directly from the in-game shop. Battle passes, cosmetic bundles, psychological price anchoring — including the infamous $65 “Vitreous Scourge” horse bundle, priced higher than the game itself during sales.

Seasons reset progress to push engagement loops. The shop conditions players to normalize absurd pricing. Player counts spike on patches — then collapse.

As of late 2025, Diablo 4 averages roughly 16,000 concurrent players on Steam, with brief bumps around updates. The upcoming expansion, Lord of Hatred (April 28, 2026), looms — but retention remains an open question.

Why Mahler Was Right — And Why It Matters

Thomas Mahler wasn’t “putting down competitors.” He was demanding accountability.

Diablo didn’t lose relevance because players changed. It lost relevance because leadership chose monetization over meaning.

Diablo once stood for atmosphere, depth, and obsession. Today, it stands for storefronts, engagement metrics, and horse armor.

And when developers finally say it out loud, it isn’t bitterness — it’s honesty.

Hell wasn’t supposed to feel this empty.