In the past year, I’ve played a few titles that deeply impacted me. The ones I’ll be discussing are Hollow Knight, Hollow Knight: Silksong, Undertale, and Expedition 33, in the order I played them. Each taught me something different about presence, honesty, perseverance, and what it means to keep going.

None of the Fromsoft Titles I have played nor my hundreds of hours in smash prepared me for Hollow Knight. It was my first time really trying a challenging platformer. 

Some of my confidence has been tied, consciously or not, to my gaming performance. Looking back at my early recordings, my insecurity was obvious.

I’d always relied on some degree of “spamming” in difficult games. But I eventually met a boss that wouldn't allow that: Nightmare King Grimm. After struggling with him for a while, chat suggested I take a round just to dodge, then slowly add one hit at a time.

After Nightmare King Grimm, I felt like I had unlocked a new capacity for patience. With that newfound confidence, I started Silksong immediately… and it crushed me.

All my insecurities came back. It didn’t help that I’d had extremely good guidance during Hollow Knight’s first playthrough, whereas Silksong was brand new. I was flying blind: sometimes literally into places like Sinner’s Road before Widow.

Despite steady improvement, I eventually took a break around Mount Fay (helped along by the fact that I’d literally formed a callous on my jump finger). During that break, I played Undertale.

The pacifist route rewards unconditional compassion and forgiveness, not because they make the world painless or fair, but because they create genuine goodness within it. We see this reflected again and again through the game’s characters.

Flowey’s evolution into Asriel makes this especially clear. Through Frisk’s refusal to abandon compassion, someone shaped entirely by “kill or be killed” is revealed to be a character who always longed for peace for everyone, even knowing he could never fully belong to it himself.

That same spirit appears in Sans and Papyrus. They couldn’t be more different, yet they support each other without judgment or hierarchy. Papyrus, in particular, reflects the person I’ve worked hard to become: optimistic, earnest, and committed to believing in people even when that belief is dismissed as naive or childish.

Seeing so many characters strengthened, not weakened, by keeping their hearts open gave me a quiet certainty. It affirmed the way I’ve always wanted to move through the world.

Returning to Silksong after Undertale, I realized something had shifted.

Hollow Knight gave me mechanical confidence, Undertale emotional confidence; in both, I learned to meet each moment with presence and handle it without fear of judgment.

This culminated in the True Ending fight with Lost Lace. Hornet’s perseverance, choosing compassion even in absolute darkness, struck me deeply.

I came away feeling fulfilled, not just by beating something I once “sucked at,” but by who I became through the process.

Next, I played Expedition 33. It was widely praised, so I wanted to understand why.

Unfortunately the game’s movement during combat made me very dizzy. So I decided to settle with watching all of the cinematics and read lots of lore instead of playing. I had never done something like this with a game before, so take this as the opinion of someone who wasn't able to play the game first hand, but is very passionate about the story.

At first watch, I felt confused and oddly isolated by the Maelle vs Verso dilemma. Because by the end of the story, I didn't agree with either of them.

Within the world of the paintings, the lives created there were not given a loving existence. The painters didn’t craft a place where painted people could thrive among their own kind. They crafted a world designed to manipulate its inhabitants for their own purposes. You can see the weight of that truth in the knowing eyes of Verso in Maelle’s ending, or in the shattered look on Lune’s face in Verso's ending when she realizes she is not only not of the “real” world, but that ultimately her life is secondary to the games the painters play to soothe their own wounds and no amount of her fierceness will ever change that.

But after I'd seen the whole story twice, my confusion started turning into clarity when Undertale echoed back to me:
“Not everything can be solved by being nice.” 

Then entire time I wrote this script I was scared. I have always had a desire to help people, but I had been afraid. I was afraid to even talk about the fear, afraid of seeming dismissive of something meaningful to others, and afraid that being critical would undermine my desire to help people.

But if I wanted to truly help people, I would need to enter the conversation too. I had to speak from a place of presence, clarity, and compassion and trust that honesty doesn’t have to be harsh.

I want to be clear: sharing my perspective isn’t a judgment of anyone who loves any one character in Expedition 33. I don’t believe in framing these conversations as right-versus-wrong moralizing. I understand deeply how powerful it is to feel seen by a story, and how that can be a stepping stone to further growth. I experienced that with Undertale. 

Before continuing with Expedition 33, I want to briefly mention Eckhart Tolle’s teachings.
He describes thinking as an addictive behavior when left unchecked, something that can create suffering when it runs you instead of serving a purpose. True freedom requires surrendering fully to the present moment.

From the perspective of presence, Alicia and Aline avoid their primary life in favor of a secondary one. Tolle teaches that in the face of a problem, there are three options: accept it, change it, or leave it. Instead of accepting a loss they cannot change or escape, they convince themselves other options exist but those come with devastating costs to themselves and others in both the real and painted worlds. And in their grief stricken blindness, they can't see those costs. 

Their refusal to accept reality becomes an addiction to a secondary world, leading them to miss the remaining opportunities for connection in their real world.

We must accept things as they are, not as we wish them to be. Only from that ground can we actually face the root of our pain and begin crafting real solutions in our primary worlds.

But acceptance is not easy. Depending on the loss or challenge, it can be unimaginably painful. It often requires tremendous strength, not just to hold ourselves upright, but to hold space for others who don’t yet have enough strength of their own. “Gustave would probably say, if more of us cared, then it would lighten the load for everyone.”

For me the idea of “when one falls we continue” isn’t only about death—it’s about the moments when someone emotionally can’t continue. When someone falls into despair, denial, or anger, continuing doesn’t mean abandoning them or hardening ourselves. It means maintaining our presence, our compassion, and our clarity even when they cannot. It means holding the light steady so that, when they’re ready, they can find their way back.

There’s an interesting thread running through many of my favorite games lately: they begin in places defined by avoidance, resignation, or collapsed worlds that seem too far gone. But the heart of each story lies in the few who refuse to look away. Their journeys show how determination, courage, gentleness, and the belief that forgiveness is possible can begin to pull even the most desolate worlds back toward life.

And this brings me back, one last time, to Undertale.

“Don’t you realize that being nice just makes you get hurt? … If you really did everything the right way... Why did things still end up like this? Why? Is life really that unfair?”

The answer to that is...

Yes ‘life keeps forcing cruel choices.'
But you can ‘keep that tenderness in your heart'. 'Accept things as they are, not as you want them to be.'' And 'when one falls you can continue.’

In closing, I think it can be harder to recognize these lessons in real life, where things are quieter, messier, and less dramatic than the worlds we lose ourselves in through games. There’s no boss music when you choose compassion. No achievement pop-up for staying present during a difficult conversation.

But those moments are where the same strength is practiced. In accepting what’s in front of you and trusting that you can handle it — mechanically, emotionally, moment by moment. In doing the next right thing, even when it’s small and unseen.

Those moments won’t feel like a victory screen, but they matter. When you do that, even briefly, that’s how these teachings leave the screen and enter real life.

Before we leave one another, I'd like to share a final scene from Hollow Knight: Silksong.

Mr. Mushroom: 

"...Do they realize it would only be the beginning? If they cleave themselves free, they would need to find their way anew...

...Oh. Wyrm child. No surprise it's you who meets me here.
Following me are you? Or calling me? It is true I would not have sought the lands below if not for your grand actions within them.
But now, having journeyed their breadth, what singular sights I beheld... Flaming lakes, tangled woods, caves consumed by sand and frost...
Remarkable things all, though given their void claimed state it seems you and I may be the last to hold those memories.

Hornet: 

I cannot allow that outcome, Herald. I act now to save that place, both for myself and for those bugs still alive within. As one who has seen so much, tell me simply, do you believe my efforts in vain?

Mr. Mushroom:

Me? Certainly you can ask, but I cannot provide good answer. I've no mind for outcomes. Always my vision is too clouded by the present.
Only the journey... the now. For myself, that is the purpose, and as far as my sight can see.
If any other could come to understand that state, Wyrm child, I suspect it may be you...
Though maybe not yet, not this present, hmmm? Maybe in a future far, when your actions might hail me so again?

Alas, from these quaking caves it is past time I made my swift exit. Ours each may be long and winding roads, but I hope you too come to know the many joys upon the path..."

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Something had been holding me back from sharing this script as a video.

I’ve been thinking how not everyone has the time, capacity, or desire to do the kind of inner work that presence requires. And trying to meet everyone there can quietly become its own form of strain, benefiting no one.

When I think of the teacher who has inspired me most, Eckhart Tolle, he doesn’t move through the world trying to convince everyone to be present. He doesn’t frame every interaction as an opportunity to focus on or point out avoidance or unconscious behavior. He simply embodies presence. And because of that, people who feel the weight of their own suffering recognize something in him that they want for themselves.

Holding that alongside my own experience, I began asking myself a different question: What is it that I want to embody regardless of whether it helps anyone else?

My thoughts kept returning to a brief exchange between Maelle and Verso.

Verso: “Can’t always shoulder the world’s problems, you know? That’ll drain you fast.”

Maelle: “Gustave would probably say, if more of us cared, then it would lighten the load for everyone.”

If I had two wolves inside me, they would probably speak in those voices.

But I’ve come to feel that the answer, perhaps, isn’t choosing one over the other. It’s stepping away from that framing entirely.

I’ve spent much of my life living in my head: cultivating emotional intelligence, trying to understand people deeply, and expanding my capacity to help. Yet when I ask myself when I feel most at ease, outside of basic needs like sleep, fitness, etc., the answer is simple.

It’s when I’m having fun.

And fun is something I’ve rarely allowed myself to prioritize.

So for now, I’m letting go of the idea that my role is to help people directly. Instead, I want to focus on embodying ease, presence, and playfulness as sincerely as I can. 

The deeper lesson of presence is trust. Trusting that if I remain grounded, attentive, and open to what’s actually happening, I’ll respond appropriately when something real asks something of me. Because presence, when embodied honestly, will always speak louder than explanation. Letting go of the burden of pre-emptive wisdom is what creates space for genuine care to arise naturally.

I’ve come to see that many of the videos I was planning were still rooted in future thinking. They were attempts to anticipate moments where I could help, or where someone else might need guidance. But presence teaches that those imagined futures are not where life is actually lived.

This is why this piece remains written rather than filmed. My previous instinct was to use games as a vehicle to explain myself and, through that, to help others. I don’t yet know what shape my next direction will take, but I trust the feeling behind it.

And for the first time in a long while, that feels like enough.

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Name meaning
Its etymology is from Sindarin, one of Tolkien's languages.

rî = n. “wreath, garland” - can also mean crown, for me I'm imagining hair

morn = adj. and n. “black, dark; night” - vorn is a mutation of the inflection

nith = n. neth “sister” is a diminutive for nîth “sister”

I have two brothers who mean a lot to me so - dark hair sister!