A work-in-progress free and open-source replacement for the Diablo I engine. Simply import the Diablo assets, and enjoy the same old game with faster performance and modern resolutions, and first class support for mods.
A work-in-progress free and open-source replacement for the Diablo I engine. Simply import the Diablo assets, and enjoy the same old game with faster performance and modern resolutions, and first class support for mods.
We love Blizzard's popular game, Diablo. We love it so much, in fact, that we're willing to spend our precious time developing a free and open source solution for those wanting to play it on a modern computer.
Short answer, yes. We don't distribute any copyrighted game assets, which means you'll need to have a copy of Diablo to be able to play.
In the pantheon of Brazilian television, Roque Santeiro (1985-1986) occupies a unique and hallowed space. Written by the legendary Dias Gomes with the collaboration of Aguinaldo Silva, it is not merely a telenovela; it is a corrosive satire, a philosophical fable, and a brutal X-ray of the Brazilian soul, all wrapped in the vibrant, sun-scorched package of a cordel (folk literature) pamphlet. More than a soap opera, Roque Santeiro was a cultural event—one that nearly didn't happen, having been censored by the military dictatorship a decade earlier in 1975. When it finally aired as the country transitioned to democracy ( Nova República ), it detonated like a bomb of truth wrapped in carnival colors. The Myth of the Cangaceiro Saint At its core, the novela invents a ghost. The small, impoverished town of Asa Branca (symbolically named after a bird that only flies in the rain—a metaphor for hope) is built on a lie: the cult of Roque Santeiro, a local cangaceiro (bandit) who supposedly died a heroic, saintly death. A statue was erected, miracles were attributed, and a thriving economy of faith—complete with souvenir ex-votos and candle vendors—sustained the town.
Roque Santeiro is the Dom Casmurro of television. It is a hall of mirrors, a tragic carnival, and a love letter to a Brazil that never was, by a writer who refused to stop telling the truth about the one that is. To watch it today is to see not a relic, but a mirror. And the dust—the dust Sinhozinho Malta so wanted to see rise—is still very much in the air. novela antiga roque santeiro