In Videoverse, I'm scrolling through a community page, liking art, making comments, and checking the responses on my own posts. Then, I get a notification and start messaging an online pal. I can't quite get over how perfectly Kinmoku's narrative adventure captures the early days of the internet; I feel like I've been transported back in time. It triggers memories of how I used to spend my days in the early 00s after school. When I wasn't playing The Sims 2, Midtown Madness 3, Pokemon Sapphire, or GTA: Vice City (yes, I was too young for that one), I was on MSN Messenger. My time was also sometimes claimed by an old Nintendo forum I can no longer remember the name of.
The beauty of Videoverse isn't just in the way it recreates a fictionalized version of a game console and its online network, it's also in how it immerses you within it and tells a profound story that completely warmed my heart. The adventure pulled me in so much that I lost track of time as I was playing it, and even though it was far too late at night when the credits rolled, it was completely worth it. Exploring how games and fandoms bring people together, help shape us, and even act as lifeline, the moving message Videoverse left me with is one I needed to be reminded of.
