「2025の最初のデッドロックアップデート：驚くほど小さい」
Valveは新年の休日から戻ってきており、ゲーム開発者はさまざまなタイトルで新しいパッチを展開し始めています。デッドロックが隔週の更新サイクルから離れるという発表の後、多くは包括的な変更ログを備えたパッチを予想していました。ただし、Valveは、1年だけのヒーローに焦点を当てたパッチをリリースして、その年までよりリラックスしたスタートを選択しました。
パッチは、わずかなnerfを受け取ったヤマトを特に標的にしました。これには、ダメージスケーリングの減少と、シャドウ変換の最初のレベルでの攻撃速度ボーナスが低下しました。さらに、Frenzy、Berserker、Restorative Shotなどの能力は弱くなり、錬金術の火は軽微な再加工を受けました。
画像：x.com
このアップデートの控えめな範囲を考えると、プレイヤーはより実質的なパッチを待つ必要がある可能性があります。しかし、それがいつ起こるかを予測することは現在困難です。
Deadlockが最近プレイヤーベースの顕著な減少を経験したことに言及することが重要です。これは、多くのゲーマーの注目を集めているマーベルライバルの人気に起因する可能性があります。深いベータ版になっているにもかかわらず、7,000〜19,000の安定したオンラインプレーヤー数を維持することは、デッドロックにとって立派な成果です。また、Valveがゲームの収益化モデルに関する潜在的なリリース日または詳細をまだ開示していないことも注目に値します。
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Two Embers – Part 1
By [Your Name]
The wind howled across the shattered plains of Eldryth, carrying with it the scent of ash and forgotten prayers. Once, this land had bloomed beneath twin suns—golden and silver—cradled in the arms of the sky. Now, only two embers remained: one buried deep in the heart of the Obsidian Spire, the other flickering faintly in the chest of a girl who did not know her name.
She awoke beneath a sky split in two.
One half burned crimson, the other wept silver mist. The earth cracked like old parchment, and from the fissures rose whispers—voices not of men, nor beasts, but of memory itself. Her fingers curled around a shard of obsidian, warm to the touch, humming with a rhythm that matched her pulse.
She didn’t remember how she got here. She remembered nothing—not her mother’s lullaby, not the sound of her first breath, not even the shape of her face in the still pools of long-dead lakes.
Only the ember.
And the dream.
“When the twins fall, the world will wake,” the dream whispered. “But not as it was. Not as it should be.”
She sat up. The shard pulsed. Her reflection shimmered within it—not a face, but a storm: a woman with hair like flame and eyes like dying stars.
“You’re not real,” she said, voice cracked from disuse.
But the reflection smiled.
And spoke.
“I am you. I am what was lost. I am what was never meant to be found.”
She stumbled to her feet, wind tearing at her tattered cloak—the color of dust and midnight. Around her, ruins of a cathedral rose from the earth, its spires fused with bone and blackened iron. The name carved into its fallen arch read: Aetherion.
Her hand trembled as she touched the stone. A vision tore through her:
A war not of swords, but of light.
Two beings—twin stars forged in fire—clashing in the sky. One wore the face of a god, the other… a child.
She gasped.
And the ember screamed.
From the east, a sound like a thousand bells made of glass. A procession of shadows moved across the horizon—hooded figures with eyes of ash, marching in silence. Their chants were not in any tongue, but in absence. In silence.
She turned to flee—then stopped.
Because behind her, in the west, a new light rose.
Not silver. Not gold.
Blue.
And from it stepped a man—tall, scarred, wearing armor of woven wind and memory. In his hand, a sword without a blade. Its hilt bore the same mark as the shard in her palm.
“Eira,” he said, voice like wind over graves. “You’ve come at last.”
She stepped back. “Who are you?”
He looked at her, and for the first time, his face cracked—just slightly.
“I was your father,” he said. “And I thought I’d buried you with the world.”
The ground trembled. The sky split again.
And from the ember in her hand, a voice rose—not hers, not his.
“The first ember dies. The second awakens. The war begins.”
To Be Continued in Part 2: "The Blood of the Twin Suns"
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