One of the all time great video games is somehow made even better with this loving remaster. Metroid Prime in 2002 was often referred to as a game that felt plucked out of the future, and that hypothesis has been proven correct by this remaster. Over two decades later and the game still feels current. A slight update to the control scheme and an overall of the graphics to modernize them is all the game needed to immediately slot in as one of the best games of the 2020s so far. Retro's design work on the original game is legendary, and I think their artistic work on this remaster will wind up spoken of in similar regard.

Remasters almost feel like they've become more commonplace in this industry than actual new video games, but it's easy to see why. It's a lot easier, cheaper, and faster to put out an old game with some sprucing up than it is to design a game from start to finish, and everything that entails. But it's clear that this was no rush job. Retro spent years updating every single asset in the game, new effects added, adding several customizable control schemes to ensure every player was taken care of, and then throwing a bunch of fun extras in with the model viewer. When it comes to faithful remasters, this is probably the best that's ever been done.

The game itself, well, it's Metroid Prime, unruined. Still the best playing 3D Metroid-style series, Prime somehow holds up remarkably today. It's a first person game where platforming feels better than it often does in third party games not made by Nintendo. Before Prime I reviewed the quite-good action platformer Hi-Fi Rush, and despite being 20 years older and in first person, Prime's platforming manages to feel light years beyond that game's. Combat is a bit weaker in this entry than the following two Prime games, but it does the job. Bosses are fairly infrequent but quite fun, with the final battle against the titular monster being a particular standout. Prime's biomes are gorgeous now, and its music? Almost unparalleled. These 20 year old MIDI tunes are more memorable than basically any video game music released nowadays, and the visuals, music, and general design of these areas all lead to a game that is just so wonderful to spend time in. The atmosphere is perfect. It's perfect.

It's a perfect game. If you own a Switch, you need to play Metroid Prime. It's not even my favorite of the trilogy, but it's the one that does every single thing a video game can do to a very high degree of quality. The others do some things better and some things worse, but you'll be hard-pressed to find any video game even now that executes on every single possible level as highly and as effortlessly as Metroid Prime.

What happens to us when we die? I'm not talking about our souls, or any afterlife, but to the memory of us on this world. The imprint we made while we were here. Does it stick around, haunting corridors and the minds of those we were close to? Or does it dissipate, leaving no trace we were ever here? Fatal Frame 4 concerns itself prominently with this specific question about death, and its hyperfocus on such a specific unsettling subject matter is what gives the game itself enough impact to last long after you finish playing.

Written and partially directed by Suda51, Fatal Frame 4 dares to dream of what would happen if dementia were contagious, and if it spread simply by looking at an afflicted person. The answer is as devastating as you can imagine, complete annihilation. What a wonderful topic for a horror game, and unlike many of the game franchises in its wheelhouse Fatal Frame is the one where every design decision is focused purely on horror. Want to open a door? You're treated to an almost OG Resident Evil level door opening animation, every single time, occasionally accompanied by a spooky cut to a fixed angle. Want to pick up an item? That'll be a 5-10 second long interaction, with a small chance of a surprise jump scare every time. Want to run fast away from a threat? Fatal Frame laughs in your face, the sprint button in these games being a facade implemented purely to frustrate and annoy you. These games want to scare you, they want to scare the SHIT out of you, and nothing else matters. While not the scariest or most surprising Fatal Frame game, Fatal Frame 4 still managed to scare me quite frequently because of those aforementioned design decisions and some truly excellent atmosphere and level design.

Fatal Frame 4 is set primarily in a large hospital which is divided into two sections. You explore them both individually with different characters before both sections connect near the end of the game. This large level is so well designed, with several pathways leading to whatever objective you're headed for. The game will always guide you down one specific path, but the adventurous player that chooses another route will almost always be delighted to find completely unique encounters and scares down whatever route they choose. I let my guard down while exploring early on, and almost hada heart attack when a room I'd already explored a mile away from my objective suddenly exploded with activity, locking me into a fight with three enemies simultaneously - a lot to handle with only one measly magic camera. It felt great to know that the developers considered other ways players would choose to explore the game world, and once this happened I never felt I could let my guard down for even a moment. Horror perfection. The sound design deserves a special mention, too. So many rooms have a unique and awful flavor all their own thanks to the subtle soundtrack and all sorts of horrible creaks and gasps of air. You never feel safe because the oppressive soundscape never lets up.

Combat in Fatal Frame 4 is perhaps the easiest of any game in the franchise, thanks to both its dedicated lock on button and surprising lack of difficult spirits. Towards the end of the game there are definitely a few recurring threats that present a real challenge, but for the most part the enemies in this entry are of the 'slowly walk forward, and then lunge towards you' variety. Even at its most braindead, combat in Fatal Frame is still fun thanks to its multiple special moves and unique feel, but I often felt more scared outside of combat than within it, which is maybe not ideal for a game about fighting scary ghosts. The endgame also loves throwing some real film sponges your way, which I thought made the game's final levels drag on a bit longer than they should have.

With an interesting plot, excellent direction, and endless dread, Fatal Frame 4 does everything you could hope for. While its combat can be a bit too easy and the game runs out of gas towards the end, it's still a terrifying and completely unique experience from the most underappreciated horror IP in gaming. If you like horror games and don't need constant action to keep your attention, Fatal Frame 4 is a must play.

First time player here, always heard about Mario RPG. I think the thing I enjoyed most about this game is oddly its age. The way Mario feels, the snappiness of the story and dialogue, the ridiculous extra challenges like getting the Super Suit and how obtuse and annoying things like the Toadofsky songs are... it's all so 1996 in a way that brings a smile to my face. The music is great, the visuals are charming, and I sure did like Mallow a hell of a lot more than I expected to. Battles were mindnumbingly easy but the chain system and how fast everything was made it an extremely relaxing comfort-game experience... I just had a darn good time with this thing! Its slightness and clunkiness made the game much more enjoyable than it would have been if it were a grander, more polished adventure. I love a good RE4-style ground-up big-balls modernization remake, but this is great too. I hope more remakes in the future decide to just... be the old game, but shiny. It's homely.

Now this is what I'm talking about.

Perfect pacing, the best bosses in the series, great puzzles, and a focus on fun above all else, Pikmin 3 is the best game in the series and finally evolves upon Pikmin 1's gameplay and feel without the overly tedious nonsense introduced in Pikmin 2. Pikmin 3 is the perfect Pikmin experience.

An excellent remaster of a great game, Quake II's advancements in world/level design for the time are impressive even today.

This review contains spoilers

"We had no choice." "Always, we had no choice. Those were our magic words. We repeat them to ourselves again and again. But the magic never worked. The only thing we have left is regret."

Final Fantasy X-2 is a weird, cool, messy as hell little game. As a followup to the absolute masterpiece of Final Fantasy X it is undeniably a tremendous disappointment, but I don't really think that's the right way to look at it. I sort of look at it more like the Majora's Mask to Final Fantasy X's Ocarina of Time. In that sense, it's also a tremendous disappointment, but what can you do.

Final Fantasy X-2 is weird, man. Structurally the game thrusts Yuna and Rikku (along with newcomer Paine, who rocks but has pretty much nothing to do) into a Cowboy Bebop-esque scenario, roving Bounty Hunters with a cool motorcycle airship who fly around and take on odd jobs and do cool shit and shoot people with guns. It's certainly not what I would have come up with for an FFX sequel, but that's why it's rad. The tone is wacky and irreverent, the vibes are kooky, it's playful and sexy in the campiest and most sincere ways. You pick which locals to visit, find a quest to do, do the quest. This all builds up your % Completion, and at the end if you get 100% you get a big cool secret ending. That's all cool!

Also weird is the completely reworked battle system. FFX has a pretty simple but extremely enjoyable turn based system. FFX-2 has scrapped that entirely in favor of bringing back ATB and introducing Garment Grids and DressSpheres. It's a whole huge thing and I won't get into the nitty gritty, but safe to say that combat here is extremely customizable and you have nearly infinite options to tweak your party to your liking. Battles themselves are typically fast and frenetic, but very satisfying and fun to play. Once you figure out how you want to approach fights, it feels fantastic to tear through enemies and get to that awesome looking Rewards screen with that slick glimmering game logo in the corner of the screen. It's the little things that stand out! There are a lot of optional superbosses and bizarre endgame challenges that require careful play and management of abilities and DressSpheres, but the main game is shockingly easy - I killed each of the 5 final bosses in under 2 minutes each. Still, the depth is here if you want it, and the challenge can be found if you know where to look.

Knowing where to look is one of the big problems though. Final Fantasy X-2 points you in the direction of progression, but doesn't give you too many indicators for how to approach uncovering its TREMENDOUS amount of side content. Herein lies another comparison to Majoras Mask: Finding out where to go and who to talk to start and progress these sidequests, which often span multiple chapters across the game and are easy to miss or mess up. Some of these involve extremely frustrating and tedious minigames, so I stopped bothering with trying to get 100% pretty early on. I appreciate a game that has content meant for Freaks and Freaks only, but FFX-2 kind of feels like a whole game built around that. It's a little much for me, and so much stuff is either easily missable or tremendously lame to access that even I, a person who usually feels inclined to see and do it all, decided that I would skip a good chunk of content within only the first 5 or so hours of the game. I finished with 78% story completion, not too bad if I do say so myself. But the rest either required rigorously following a guide or dealing with some abhorrent minigames, so forget it.

The story is... boy, it sure is in there. I think the game tackles some interesting topics - the power of art to communicate feelings and the way artists can use their talents and life experiences to spread empathy is a very interesting theme for a Final Fantasy game. I just wish they were better explored. While the game does succeed at giving us the flavor of a lesbian road trip, and this does rule, everything else comes up short. It's either unclear, unsatisfying, or just plain lame. I lost interest extremely quickly in whatever was going on with the lead villain (whose name I forget even though I just beat him in a boss fight 30 minutes ago) and while the climactic scene of him embracing Lenne does somewhat work as a cathartic moment, it doesn't hit nearly as hard as it would if the game had been at all successful in establishing or expounding on these characters and what they represented. The similarities with Yuna and Tidus are so clearly intended thematically and narratively but the game barely ever mentions it and the whole thing winds up feeling half-baked. Pretty much a total miss for me, even if it was nice to see FFX's characters and settings repurposed for some interesting new themes.

"So cherish me. And I will cherish you."

For all its flaws, I'm glad I played FFX-2. The goofy sci-fi gay roadtrip vibes alone made this worth experiencing, there's a real heart and soul here that shines through under all the cruft and tedium. The UI is flashy and stylish, the character designs are audacious spectacles, the music is... well, it's there. There's plenty to like about Final Fantasy X-2. Even playing is usually pretty fun thanks to a great combat system, even if you can sleep through even boss fights by the end. But all that glitters ain't gold, even if the glitter got stuck to you during a dope-ass rave. The structure is overly harsh and unpleasant despite being cool on paper, and the writing and story feel downright unfinished. Still, games like this don't get made anymore. If Final Fantasy X-2 got made today and came out like this it would be lambasted by gamers and critics alike and be such a massive bomb that we'd be reading thinkpieces for years about what a woeful misstep this was for Square Enix's fortunes. So we should celebrate that a game like this got made at all, even if it came out kind of fucked up. FFX-2 represents a better time for its medium, and I can't help but be charmed by it.

A really solid first effort, doesn't come together 100% in the end but a lot of great ideas. Must have blown minds when it first came out, even today the atmosphere can be thick with dread. Trekking across the mansion while low on health items is classic survival horror.

An actual perfect game. Its design still stands tall above just about every video game released today. Its soundtrack is as iconic as any other. And all these years later, it still has so much to teach us.

It's hard to even know what to say.

Super Mario Wonder is the pinnacle of the design ethos Nintendo has spent almost 50 years crafting. Every level is a different joy. The core mechanics are hyper-polished and it's fun to just move around. There's a ton of stuff to collect, many different challenges to overcome, and many different abilities to employ as you set about overcoming them. I like to write longer reviews when a game really speak to me, but I'm flummoxed here. Super Mario Bros. Wonder is a game made by infinitely creative people with all the resources in the world to bring their ideas to life, and then all the time they needed to whittle and hone until it didn't have anything that didn't need to be there. I guess I'd have liked a few less textbox houses, but in the face of the awesome accomplishment that is all these amazing levels and ideas, I'd have to be a real asshole to whine about 4 minutes of dialogue skipping.

An unbelievable achievement that will be special in the hearts of just as many people as World was before it. Maybe more. It's the new top of the flagpole.

As average as average gets. Sometimes it looks really good and the set pieces are fun, but it's as cookie cutter as it gets and fun traversal can only keep a game great for so long. Plays very sloppily, very buggy (I softlocked SEVEN times) and the script is boring and pacing is bad. There are highlight moments for sure, but not enough to save this from being anything other than a mediocre timewaster.

The internet, with its haze of anonymity, clouds who we are. It obfuscates us from others and ourselves. We become other people, not just online but in person, either emphasizing the pieces of ourselves we think others prefer or by inventing new selves out of wholecloth. In fits and spurts we remove ourselves from ourselves, and our presentation becomes what we are. One day you'll wake up a stranger. The mask is glued on. Maybe this mask makes you hurt people, but the eyeholes are too small to see the world clearly. Eventually, the distinction between the mask and your real face fails to matter. You are what you are, and you do what you do.

All this is to say that Majoras Mask is a much better written exploration of personas than any Persona game. For all that's been said of this game's themes of death and acceptance, I think that its themes of identity have fallen a bit by the wayside, as on the surface that's a much less creepypasta idea. But ultimately I think it's a topic just as important to the game as the inevitability of ones death, if not even moreso. The Song of Healing is the game's most iconic song, and what does that song do? It removes masks, by reminding its wearers of who they really are.

Look at Pamela's father. Obsessed with his study of undead creatures, death comes for him and he begins to transform into one of them. His daughter locks him in the closet, where he waits, consumed by something that is not himself, compelled to cause pain. When you heal him, the mask falls rattling to the floor. He hugs his daughter, a person he's caused great fear and anguish.

"What have I been doing this whole time?" He asks her, confused and afraid.

"You haven't been doing anything." She sobs into his chest. "You were having a bad dream."

I've had bad dreams like that too. I'm sure many of us have. Clouded by a desire to fit in, or to appeal in a way we might naturally lack, we dream ourselves into monsters until one day there's nothing else, and the people we once loved remember us for who we used to be. It is a terrible sadness to lose ones self, and this is the true tragedy of Majoras Mask.

When the Skull Kid his free, he looks up towards the Giants, who very narrowly prevented him from destroying the entire world, killing everybody within it.

"You guys... you hadn't forgotten about me?" He looks down at the ground, hiding his face, whole body shaking with emotion. "You still thought of me as a friend?"

Life is hard and life is long. We will forget ourselves, it is inevitable. But if our truest selves are good to others, than it is those others who can bring us back to who we are. A life is not defined by the good or the bad that we do, but by the Self we return to in the moments between. With kindness, with love, with conviction, we can stop ourselves and stop the ones we care about from hurting. When we die, the only face we wear can't be changed. Don't let it be a mask.

Everything that Signalis takes from classic survival horror, it excels at. The atmosphere is excellent, the inventory system is punishing, and the levels are perfectly designed to incentivize thoughtful enemy dispatching and routing. The visuals are also fantastic, taking an anime-ified PS1 polygonal approach that looks great from every angle, a striking aesthetic that never really escapes the shell of the games and anime it's apeing (particularly Neon Genesis Evangelion) but manages to land with confident aplomb all the same.

Where Signalis falters is in its clarity. I love a weird trip, but I have to feel confident that the work is doing something in order to give myself up to it. Signalis does have a story, and it's a pretty cool one, but in my nearly 8 hours spent with the game I never once understood the any part of it. Which, in itself, is fine. But in the endgame, when the tension is ratcheting up and the final boss reveals itself for the climactic battle, no amount of visual effects trickery or raucous music can make the battle feel any less weightless. The stakes are nonexistent, because there is nothing either in the plot or in the themes that feels worth fighting for. You beat the boss because the game will end afterward.

It's a great ride, and the developers nailed everything they were going for, but I came away from Signalis thinking the exact same things I thought going in: that it was a cool looking PS1 survival horror sendup. Everything else about the game will fade and distort, just like the world of Signalis itself.

While I've respected the franchise from afar for a very long time, my first Fire Emblem game was Three Houses. I loved that game. I loved it a lot. But despite its promise of 4 separate story campaigns, I never felt much desire to go back to it after my first playthrough was finished. The combat wasn't good enough, the pacing was downright bad, and I rarely felt as if I was doing anything but going through the motions at all times. A great game, for sure, but one plagued by playability issues that couldn't be papered over by its interesting stories and attractive characters. Fire Emblem Engage does not have those same issues, instead opting to solve those problems and have new issues entirely the opposite.

It's been said a lot that this game is the sharp opposite of Three Houses, and it's been said for good reason. Engage does not have a great story, or even a good ones. It does not have interesting characters, or emotional resonance, or difficult decision making that has serious consequences for the game's plot. What it does have is a bunch of awesome maps, baby. I had more fun tackling single maps in this game than I had throughout the entirety of Three House's entire campaign. Between the unique Engage mechanics, the reworked weapon triangle, and the host of new classes that synergize with one another, it's just fun as hell to play. You're always making decisions about how to classify and teclassify your units, what weapons to give them, what rings they should wear, where do they start, how should they maneuver, there is SO MUCH. It can be overwhelming, but it's always satisfying. The UI does an excellent job of giving you all the information you need, and the (mostly optional) fluff between battle can help provide additional assistance if you decide that you need it. It's a great system and I hope vestiges of it remain in future games.

That story though, it really is pretty rough. It's a very simple story, and one clearly told with one-and-a-half eyes focused very intently on budget. Most characters appear, at least at first, to be paper thin anime stereotypes, to the point that many of their supports become punishing to sit through. Seriously, it isn't good. Fortunately, all this represents the vast minority of what your time in Fire Emblem Engage will be spent doing. This is a game that knows well its strengths, and loves nothing more than to press you with them.

Overall, yeah, it's what you've heard. Great gameplay, bad story. But the gameplay is so good and the story so unintrusive that there's no good reason for any Fire Emblem fan to pass on this game. It's a winner.

This review contains spoilers

"Master, I believe at this juncture that a prayer is required. Focus, and wish with all your might for the destruction of Demise."

The Legend of Zelda series has always been gaming's most spiritual long-running franchise, even by the time Link to the Past first released. The vast majority of its games are battles between the Goddesses and the Demon King, locked in an unending tug of war, the Demons yearning for power and blood and the Goddesses yearning for peace. Skyward Sword focuses itself entirely on this struggle, and spares a lot of heart for the poor saps caught in the middle. A lot has been said of Skyward's controls, its linearity, its dungeons, all the things that make a game a game and that's great, but I want to spend some time touching on its heart. Only Majoras Mask has more to give than Skyward Sword, and these are two very different stories.

The Goddess Hylia seals away the Demon King Demise, and then sheds her divinity to be reborn as a human for the opportunity to ensure the use of the Triforce, a God-made artifact of legend that grants the desire of those who possess it. To ensure that the Demon King does not return, Hylia crafts many tools. The most apparent of these Tools is the Goddess Sword, which over the course of the game becomes the Master Sword, blade of evil's bane, designed to destroy and seal away monstrous forces that seek to bring death. Inhabiting this tool is another tool, Fi, a 'messenger' of the Goddess who gives instructions to the hero who wields the sword. And that wielder, Link, is just another tool. Zelda, too, is a tool. All of humanity and all that they have to love are all pawns in a game, pieces on the board positioned by the Goddess long ago. The residents of Skyloft give much thanks to the Goddess for providing them with a peaceful life in the clouds, a life they do not understand but have long since stopped inquiring about. Only Link, in his journey through the surface, comes to understand that they all have a role to play. Zelda, a tool of Hylia, was crafted solely to manipulate Link, another tool, into picking up the Goddess Sword, another tool, and being guided by Fi. I'm sure you see where this is going.

If this game were just a message that we are all predestined to reach whatever end some divine force laid out for us, that would be one thing. But that's not what Skyward Sword ultimately tells us. It is in Zelda that I think the true message of Skyward Sword lies. A tool, yes, but while the Goddess rests in her she is still a human being. And it is only humans who have the power to save this world. The Gods may have created the Triforce, Zelda tell us, but they cannot use its power. Tools we all may be, but tools can break and fail or be lost. It is the human spirit that leads us to overcome the many trials we are set to face. After all, we are only tools, so if we fail we can be replaced. That is the secret, I think.

In Skyward Sword we are made to visit three regions, time and time again. A bountiful forest, a scorched volcano, and a desert. The desert used to be a prosperous civilization, but its guardian dragon fell ill and perished, and climate change has since destroyed all but the most stubborn remnants of that era. Incredible technologies, hundreds of curious souls, extinguished by the ravages of time. It is not just this desert where we see the wrath of climate change made manifest: The forest is overcome by great flooding, displacing its residents, and the volcano erupts with fury rendering the sky dark and the air polluted. Through kindness and action, Link is able to restore these lands to a much better state. The guardian of the desert is healed, giving hope that their civilization may eventually spring up anew. The flooding is abated in the forest, and the eruption is ceased in the mountains. The creatures of these lands return. By the end of the game, Demise itself is defeated by human hands, and human beings return to the surface world.

Zelda has been long-obsessed with destinies and divine war, but Skyward Sword is where this franchise's meaning is made clear: No matter what evils we face, or what sacred forces above us push and prod us into places both wonderful and terrible, we and we alone possess the ability to change the world. To save it.

Also the dungeons are so good that sandship one goes crazy, and the music???? Third best Zelda game.

This review contains spoilers

It will never happen again.

For the six years following the release of Breath of the Wild, the Zelda team at Nintendo have been cooking. More than half of those years were spent marketing the game, barely showing it off and leaving desperate fans to postulate and bicker about what this game would be and whether it would be worth being. Eventually, we got the game. Tears of the Kingdom. An unassailable masterclass in game design, able to be so because the Zelda team spent over a decade building up its world. The reuse of the previous game’s map was a strong source of contention in the discussions leading up to release, but wound up being one of the best choices the Zelda team made. Reusing the landscape allowed the development team to repurpose it, and fill it with a seemingly infinite amount of unique things to do. Hundreds of quests, and many of them have design goals that separate them from everything else in the game. Hundreds of shrines, many of which exist to tutorialize and later expand on mechanics that Breath of the Wild didn’t even have. An entire underground map, the size of Hyrule itself, that serves to turn aimless exploration into a survival-based journey, radically changing the way you play the game. And the Sky Islands, many of which exist to offer bite-sized little Mario Galaxy-esque challenges to the player with a freedom of approach that can’t be found in the enclosed shrines or dungeons. And, yeah, dungeons, dungeons that are much more involved and smartly designed than the Divine Beasts of Breath of the Wild. Towns full of quests and life, NPCs that all have fun or interesting things to say, dialogue that changes depending on how cloudy the sky is or what Link is wearing or how progressed you are in various quests. There has never been a world in video games as alive as the world in Tears of the Kingdom, and it is this way because of the reuse. The repurposing of the existing world. It is this way because over ten years were spent creating it.

It will never happen again.

Ganandorf has awoken, and Zelda has been spirited away. Link awakes in a Hyrule assaulted by an Upheaval, significant chunks of the landscape destroyed, Hyrule Castle lifted high into the sky and raining stone and misery down upon the world below. It isn’t the Calamity of old, but a different sort of disaster. The faded wounds of the Calamity have been ripped open anew. The people of Hyrule see ghosts, the memory of their beloved Princess visiting them and causing them harm. Links sees ghosts too, but not all are harmful. His memory of Zelda gives him the ability to Recall things as they once were, essentially rewinding an object’s movement through spacetime. It is just one of several new abilities in Link’s toolset, a toolset that is so much better than just about any other powerset in video game history. Ultrahand in particular is simply unbelievable, its versatility unmatched by any other game of this scale. As if the game wasn’t already filled to the brim with an unrivaled variety of content, you now have a way to interact with its world that goes far above and beyond any other game that’s ever been made. All of your powers, you must use in your journey to find Zelda and put an end to the Demon King Ganandorf once and for all. He himself a ghost of the past returned to cause harm, Link must help people from across the various regions of Hyrule and bring the various races together to put an end to him. A terror from ages past, still felt today. And all with Zelda gone, transfigured into something unspeakable and sad.

It will never happen again.

After hundreds of hours of varied and fun exploring and combating and puzzle-solving, Link and friends take the fight to Ganandorf and yes, ultimately they win. Zelda is returned, forever changed but with an attitude positive and a love true. Link too is returned, his injuries healed and his sense of self reclaimed. But the world is still changed, Hyrule Castle floating in the sky, massive islands dotting the horizon that still threaten to drop ruins upon the land at any moment. We can never fully get back the things we’ve lost. Scars are made and they don’t heal, they just become a part of the skin. But we can recall the things we’ve lost and keep them with us, and we can keep true to who we are, not letting the evils in the world win. We do it with love from others and with love from ourselves. What was lost will always be lost, but they will be with us all the same.

It will never happen again.