Jessica and I danced under the lights at the Lombard Graduation Recital, June 21st 2014. Our senior years had finally ended three weeks prior, and the graduation ceremony had at last come to a close. I don't remember why we danced together, but we did. She was leaving for Iowa in August. A terrible Coldplay song was playing. Somehow our hands fell together, and there was a harmony. We melted like two squares of butter on the flat of a pan, and when my eyes next opened our lips were pressed together. It didn't last long. We returned to ourselves and separated. She blushed deeply. "I don't think my boyfriend is going to like that." She said with a smile. We parted ways.
Three days later I was sitting at a Steak & Shake fauxdiner with my friends Marco and Brandon. We were in the midst of some ugly spat, but we were hungry, so we ate. At some point during the meal all in the restaurant grew quiet, and just as I sensed a presence coming up from behind me my head was being slammed into the table, directly onto the small pool of ketchup I was using to finish up my fries. "What the fuck is wrong with you, man!?" It was Jared. "I should kill you for putting moves on my girl." I strained my eyes to the other side of the table where Marco and Brandon had been sitting. It was empty now. I was on my own.
"Sorry, I'm sorry." I squeezed out, the pressure in my head turning to pain. For a moment I felt his grip release, and I lifted my head only for it to be roughly smashed back down, this time into the corner of my meal tray. I yelled in pain, and fell onto my back on the booth. I heard some people gasp and a few goons laughs, but Jared didn't seem to think it was funny. He leaned over me and grabbed my shirt collar, pulling me up towards him, my life in his hands.
"Don't fucking tell me it was her. Why did you mack on my girl?" This was red hate. His spit flecked onto my face.
"I really don't know, I don't remember kissing her. Maybe it was her!" I stammered out the words, growing desperate for relief. He looked at me for a long time, his dark eyes seething. Eventually, he let me go.
"Stay the fuck away from her." He and his bros left the restaurant, while I gagged and bled over what was left of my meal. The waitress told me that I didn't have to pay.
In October of the following year my friends shared with me a news story that Jessica was dead. Beaten by Jared, her body found on some forgotten roadway in Iowa somewhere. For his defense, Jared said she was cheating on him, using his money to go to bars in town and meet boys and have one night stands with them while he was out with his friends. He said he couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't help but feel the smallest wince of blame.
Omori was released on Chirstmas Day, 2020. I bought it that day, and played through it to completion over the following two weeks. My playthrough took me around 33 hours. I have not booted up Omori since, nor have I purchased the later ports of the game that feature additional content.
In the coming-on two years since Omori's release, I have thought about it every single day.
Ignoring any and all gameplay or aesthetic discussion, where Omori leaves its mark is the heart. This game has a heart that beats and bleeds and pumps its feeling from itself into you, and you see yourself in the mirror and you see the things Omori put into you creeping across your face. You see smiles forgotten. You see tears wiped away. You see a hand on your shoulder. Everything will be okay. It's a game that may well have the most potent and excellently constructed narrative of any game ever made. Every single decision made during this game's development was one done to amplify the potency of the way this game makes you feel. It never goes away. If I'm fortunate enough to grow old, I wil still think about Omori every day. It will always be relevant. The things it says don't rust over with age. It will no longer just be my face in the mirror. I will always see her, and countless others.
Three days later I was sitting at a Steak & Shake fauxdiner with my friends Marco and Brandon. We were in the midst of some ugly spat, but we were hungry, so we ate. At some point during the meal all in the restaurant grew quiet, and just as I sensed a presence coming up from behind me my head was being slammed into the table, directly onto the small pool of ketchup I was using to finish up my fries. "What the fuck is wrong with you, man!?" It was Jared. "I should kill you for putting moves on my girl." I strained my eyes to the other side of the table where Marco and Brandon had been sitting. It was empty now. I was on my own.
"Sorry, I'm sorry." I squeezed out, the pressure in my head turning to pain. For a moment I felt his grip release, and I lifted my head only for it to be roughly smashed back down, this time into the corner of my meal tray. I yelled in pain, and fell onto my back on the booth. I heard some people gasp and a few goons laughs, but Jared didn't seem to think it was funny. He leaned over me and grabbed my shirt collar, pulling me up towards him, my life in his hands.
"Don't fucking tell me it was her. Why did you mack on my girl?" This was red hate. His spit flecked onto my face.
"I really don't know, I don't remember kissing her. Maybe it was her!" I stammered out the words, growing desperate for relief. He looked at me for a long time, his dark eyes seething. Eventually, he let me go.
"Stay the fuck away from her." He and his bros left the restaurant, while I gagged and bled over what was left of my meal. The waitress told me that I didn't have to pay.
In October of the following year my friends shared with me a news story that Jessica was dead. Beaten by Jared, her body found on some forgotten roadway in Iowa somewhere. For his defense, Jared said she was cheating on him, using his money to go to bars in town and meet boys and have one night stands with them while he was out with his friends. He said he couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't help but feel the smallest wince of blame.
Omori was released on Chirstmas Day, 2020. I bought it that day, and played through it to completion over the following two weeks. My playthrough took me around 33 hours. I have not booted up Omori since, nor have I purchased the later ports of the game that feature additional content.
In the coming-on two years since Omori's release, I have thought about it every single day.
Ignoring any and all gameplay or aesthetic discussion, where Omori leaves its mark is the heart. This game has a heart that beats and bleeds and pumps its feeling from itself into you, and you see yourself in the mirror and you see the things Omori put into you creeping across your face. You see smiles forgotten. You see tears wiped away. You see a hand on your shoulder. Everything will be okay. It's a game that may well have the most potent and excellently constructed narrative of any game ever made. Every single decision made during this game's development was one done to amplify the potency of the way this game makes you feel. It never goes away. If I'm fortunate enough to grow old, I wil still think about Omori every day. It will always be relevant. The things it says don't rust over with age. It will no longer just be my face in the mirror. I will always see her, and countless others.