---
title: 'The Games That Got Me Through 2025'
source: 'https://youtube.com/watch?v=Hh4IGoNFEPQ'
video_id: 'Hh4IGoNFEPQ'
date: 2026-06-28
duration_sec: 0
---

# The Games That Got Me Through 2025

> Source: [The Games That Got Me Through 2025](https://youtube.com/watch?v=Hh4IGoNFEPQ)

## Summary

The creator reflects on 2025 as a year of profound connection with video games, contrasting with a previous year where he struggled to find meaningful experiences. He highlights several games that left a lasting impact, including Hypnospace Outlaw, Burggeist, Angeline Era, Elden Ring: Nightreign, Cyberpunk 2077, Clair Obscur: Expedition 33, and Hollow Knight: Silksong. The video explores how these games helped him process existential dread and find hope through community and creative design.

### Key Points

- **Year of Profound Impact** [01:02] — The creator played more impactful games in 2025 than in any previous year, with multiple titles that would have been the focus of a 2024 video getting lost in the shuffle.
- **Hypnospace Outlaw's Authentic Nostalgia** [01:43] — Hypnospace Outlaw uses a 90s internet aesthetic with authentic humanity behind every page, elevating nostalgia rather than just imitating it.
- **Burggeist's Unique Blend** [03:49] — Burggeist feels like a PS2 game but with modern design philosophies, blending influences from Shadow of the Colossus, Drakengard, and Brutal Legend into something unique.
- **Angeline Era's Thoughtful Design** [04:31] — Angeline Era uses a simple bump-to-attack mechanic but creates depth through clear conditions for progression, testing both skill and knowledge.
- **Nightreign's Multiplayer Magic** [08:32] — Elden Ring: Nightreign is a messy but fun multiplayer experience that brought together friends and new acquaintances, with the creator putting in over 100 hours.
- **Cyberpunk 2077's Immersive World** [11:42] — Cyberpunk 2077's Night City felt real and substantive, with the creator never fast-traveling and instead exploring every corner, leading to deep empathy for characters.
- **Clair Obscur's Theme of Legacy** [15:50] — Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 explores the theme of fighting for a future you may never see, resonating with the creator's shift to seeing the future as something to steward.
- **Silksong's Surprising Impact** [18:20] — Hollow Knight: Silksong finally released and exceeded expectations, with Hornet's confident personality and the game's exploration of power and corruption inspiring the creator.
- **Games as a Tool for Hope** [22:22] — The creator concludes that games helped him process existential dread by refocusing on community and action, rather than just distracting him.

## Transcript

2025 has been another year, and luckily I was 
able to play a bunch of video games throughout  
it. As it has become tradition, that means 
it is time for me to talk about some of the  
ways they had an effect on my life. In last year’s 
video, one of the main takeaways was that I didn’t  
play anything that meant all that much to me. I 
enjoyed a bunch of games, but I didn’t connect  
with any in the way I often do. While I largely 
assumed that this came from picking the wrong  
games and also being in a weird headspace as I was 
navigating life with both a toddler and a newborn,  
making it hard to process much of anything, a 
small part of me worried that my relationship  
with games had fundamentally shifted. That this 
change was a part of me getting older—that I was  
becoming less capable of finding experiences 
I resonate with on a deep personal level.
And 2025 has proven that this was not the case.
I don’t know that there’s been a single year of 
my life where I have played more titles that left  
a profound impact on me than I did in this past 
one. Like there are multiple games that if I had I  
played them in 2024, they probably would have been 
the primary focus of that video, but they kind of  
get lost in the shuffle when put next to the many 
incredible experiences I had last year. It was one  
of the most enjoyable years of playing games I've 
had in a long while, and I wanna talk about it.
So, I’m going to start where I always do,  
with the first game I played last year, 
which this time was Hypnospace Outlaw.
Hypnospace Outlaw is the type of game where what 
would be considered the actual game part largely  
is just a vehicle to get you to engage with lore. 
The player takes the role as a moderator of forums  
and webpages that feel straight out of the 1990s, 
and this set up provides all the motivation needed  
to scour every page for potential infractions. 
While finding these violations requires a good bit  
of deduction, making them satisfying to discover, 
it is the actual contents of these pages that make  
Hypnospace Outlaw a game I reflect on often and 
fondly. It presents an alluring representation  
of the Old Internet; an era that I know is overly 
romanticised, but has an undeniable appeal all the  
same. One of community, of sharing passion, 
of making art, all without the algorithmic  
hand and financial incentive that defines the 
current internet. Every page is filled with so  
much personality and explores the stories of the 
various characters in ways that feel shockingly  
authentic. There is no shortage of media that 
cops the 90s aesthetic, but a lot of the time it  
feels like a hollow imitation, one that coasts on 
the belief that doing stuff like reminding you of  
the pattern on the side of those disposable cups 
will be enough to pull you in, but here there is  
humanity behind everything. There’s a sincerity to 
even the most unhinged pages that makes the forums  
feel like the kind of digital space people would 
want to be a part of. Honestly, the artistry on  
display is on another level; whether it be 
writing, images, or music all of it weaves  
together to make these webpages feel like an 
artifact of the past but with all the boring  
parts shaved away—even the art that is meant 
to be quote unquote bad, is enjoyably bad.
They pulled off a nearly impossible feat, and 
it really is something special. As a trademark  
90s kid, it's no real surprise that this game 
tapped into my nostalgia for that era, but  
that’s not really why I enjoyed it. It did more 
than just remind me of the past. It elevated it.
I had this same feeling with a couple other 
titles I played throughout the year. The first  
being Burggeist; it’s a game that feels like 
it would have been right at home on the PS2,  
but has design philosophies that are decidedly 
more modern than anything that actually would  
have come out on the PS2. To my knowledge the 
developer Ghrian studios hasn’t specified what  
games influenced Burggeist, instead pointing 
to things like history, animal behavior,  
numerical sequence and oddly shaped rocks, 
and honestly all of that does show; however,  
it feels like it takes cues from stuff like 
Shadow of the Colossus and Drakengard and even  
Brutal Legend, leading to something entirely 
unique and surprisingly singular in vision. It  
finds ways to meld these ideas that seem like they 
should never work together, and somehow nails it.
The other game was Angeline Era.
Through a chunky ps1/n64 aesthetic, it takes what 
seems like the most simple approach to combat,  
that being bumping into enemies to attack, and 
creates all sorts of interesting levels and  
encounters around it that brings far more depth 
to the mechanic than it has any business having.  
The design is just so thoughtful. For instance, 
the majority of levels are made up of locked  
rooms where you need to clear the encounter 
to move forward. As the game is pretty tough,  
especially so if you’re on a higher difficulty, 
there’s a good chance you’ll die a bunch, setting  
you back to the start of the level, and making you 
do it all over. It's a runback of sorts which I  
know people have opinions on, but what works about 
it here in terms of avoiding the frustration that  
can come from this type of setup is that unlocking 
the door to the next room doesn’t require killing  
every single enemy—instead each encounter has 
a specific clear condition, generally tied to  
taking out a much smaller fraction of the enemies. 
So with every attempt you’re not just figuring out  
how to better position yourself in order to not 
take damage, but also what the criteria is to  
unlock the way forward. It adds a new layer of 
thought to every room, keeping these runbacks  
from becoming tedious. Not to mention, once you’ve 
played enough, you’ll start to recognize sort of  
themes and patterns, making it possible to predict 
what might clear the way, and when you’re able to  
do this on a first time through a level, it feels 
incredible. It's an elegant approach to difficulty  
and failure as it tests both the player’s skill as 
well as their knowledge. This makes it so having  
to replay some sections feels far more palatable 
as there are multiple ways to improve and the  
success almost always comes from an increase 
in the player as opposed to the character.  
Angeline Era is filled with playful design like 
this that rewards players for noticing things.
As Giovanni Colantonio put it in his piece on 
Angeline Era, “The result is a rare “retro”  
game that actually plays the way I remember old 
games feeling, even though it’s nothing like them  
at all.” In my experience this felt true with 
Angeline Era, Burggeist, and Hypnospace Outlaw.  
Each of them harnesses an aesthetic from the past 
to set players expectations, and then deploys game  
design ideas that do not draw specifically from 
a single title from those eras but instead from  
many, many titles, and many, many ideas where you 
may be able to see some sources of inspiration,  
but would struggle to really say it is just like 
one specific thing. It is not uncommon for indie  
games to look like retro games or even feel 
like retro games, but to Colantonio’s point,  
it is rare for them to make you feel the way you 
did when playing old games or when living in old  
times. It is the familiar inside of something 
fresh, and it reminds me of how much I love video  
games. Not just playing them, but thinking 
about them. Of seeing creative spins on old  
ideas that prove that we are really just at the 
beginning of what games can be. Not to mention,  
these three games were made by relatively small 
teams—and to be clear I am not saying that to  
demonize games with far bigger ones, but to point 
out that there are many ways to make a game,  
and that a team with a strong creative 
vision that learns to master limitations  
and iterate in unexpected ways can create 
some of the most compelling art out there.
Throughout 2025, I continued the trend 
I started the year before of getting  
more into multiplayer games as playing stuff 
with other people, as it turns out, is fun.  
I finally got around to It Takes Two with my 
Wife, which maybe will be a video some day,  
but at the very least it was just fun to watch 
her adjust to the evershifting nature of that  
game. I established a game night with a couple 
of my friends that I’ve known since we were kids,  
and it has been such a welcome routine in my life. 
I don’t think that when we were 10 years old,  
playing melee in my parent’s basement, we 
ever would have expected to still be doing  
some version of that nearly 25 years later, and 
so it has been a great joy that we have. Now  
with the wide spread of games I’ve played with 
them as well as with other friends, there is  
one title that really defines my multiplayer 
year, and that was Elden Ring: Nightreign.
Nightreign is a weird kind of good. In a lot of 
ways it feels messy, which is understandable as  
it smashes together a bunch of stuff from older 
FromSoft titles and uses the fortnite storm to  
tie it all together. It’s a testament to how 
fun the combat is and varied the options are  
in Elden Ring that Nightreign stays as enjoyable 
for as long as it does. After my first few runs,  
I figured I’d play it until beating all the bosses 
once or twice and then never picking it up again,  
however, at this point I got all of the 
achievements around the 30 hour mark,  
and have put in 70 hours since then, and frankly 
I feel like I have a lot of runs still left in me.
And of course, a big part of it is the 
people I got to play with. There was just  
a ton of interest in it from people in my 
wider circle of friends and acquaintances,  
so along with my game night group, I played with 
so many different people, ranging from friends I  
play stuff with all the time to folks I’ve long 
known but have never really been in a voice call  
with before to friends of friends, and I loved 
it. Meeting new people and seeing my friends from  
different circles merge brought me a ton of joy. 
I also loved helping people get through the game,  
and really that has been a big motivating factor 
to keep playing. I still have people I wanna beat  
all the bosses with. There’s something about 
seeing the game click for new players—watching  
them go from being overwhelmed by the scope and 
time limit to making calls of where to go next.  
It’s been a special game to learn and teach, and 
one that I am still shocked FromSoft decided to  
make. While hanging out with friends and meeting 
new people doesn’t have to be tied to the pretext  
of playing a game, having something to rally 
around does seem to make doing both more likely,  
and it’s been awhile since I’ve played something 
that does that as effectively as Nightreign.
One thing that’s been interesting for me is given 
the amount of time I put into Nightreign as well  
as other titles that roughly could be described 
as roguelites, 2025 was the year where I finally  
had to admit to myself that despite always saying 
I am not a huge fan of roguelites, I am actually  
a pretty huge fan of roguelites. Ravenswatch 
provided a satisfying co-op experience with plenty  
of cool synergies to experiment with. Absolum 
mixed roguelite structure with a beat 'em up,  
which honestly just makes too much sense, and 
I am surprised I have not seen far more games  
use this combination. Blue Prince created an 
ever expanding puzzlebox that I don’t know if I  
will ever be able to fully solve, but a part of 
me will always want to. And Hades 2 took nearly  
every system from the first game and found a way 
to elevate them, and while it does end up being  
a bit messier than its predecessor especially in 
regards to its narrative, it still had my brain  
buzzing for dozens of hours. I know that the 
genre has moved so, so far away from its roots,  
but in doing so, developers have found tons 
of interesting ways to iterate on the core  
concepts and combine them with other established 
genres, leading to wildly compelling systems that  
I have been able to connect with more than 
the ones in traditional roguelites. Frankly,  
this kind of was the year of connecting to genres 
I often struggle to connect to; maybe the best  
example can be seen with how much I fell in 
love with the open-world of Cyberpunk 2077.
I’ll be honest, I am still a bit surprised that I 
like 2077 as much as I do. I imagine a big part of  
that comes from expectations—for the longest 
time, my only exposure to it was hearing how  
terrible it was. That it was broken beyond just 
being buggy. Even as CDPR updated the game and  
the conversation around it began to shift, a part 
of me still expected it to kinda suck. It’s just  
so rare to bring a game back from the brink like 
that. Not to mention the cyberpunk setting isn’t  
one I’m all that interested in, so it was easy 
to feel like it would never be a game for me.  
But then it was. Something about Night City felt 
different from any video game world I had been in  
before. The density, the detail, the depth—it felt 
material; it felt substantive. I’ve played a lot  
of video games, plenty of which have impressive 
worlds that strive to create a sense of realism,  
but none of them have felt real to me in the 
way Night City did. And it isn’t because it  
has a strict adherence to realism—plenty 
of other games do far more on that front.  
It’s more that it is so overwhelming in scope, 
from the size of skyscrapers to the mess of roads  
to the number of pedestrians to the limits of 
the city, that it becomes easy to fall for the  
illusion it aims to set up. One of it being a real 
place where you are the tiniest part of it. And  
this illusion is bolstered in some surprising 
ways. For instance, nearly every building can  
be scaled and parkoured across; they are not just 
things to fill the skybox. In Night City, whether  
you’re at the top or the bottom, so much of it 
feels considered. Of course, there are gaps; it’s  
far from perfect, but there is a solidity to the 
city that made it so I couldn’t help but buy in.
I talked about it in a video earlier this year, 
but a trap I find myself falling into regularly  
is relying too much on mechanical motivation. 
I have trouble engaging with parts of a title  
that don’t necessarily build to something 
bigger; that don’t fold in with the other  
mechanics all that cleanly, but with 2077, I 
didn’t struggle in that way at all. I didn’t  
need any convincing to be in this world. To 
explore it, to engage with it, to take my  
time being in it. I didn’t fast travel a single 
time, instead opting to ride my bike everywhere,  
weaving between traffic as the lights of the 
city flashed by; I often called V’s friends to  
help pass the time on longer trips. I found the 
city so alluring, so overwhelming, and so there  
that I couldn’t help but appreciate every minute I 
spent in it. And look it does plenty of the things  
that normally pull me out of an experience—the 
biggest being its story that calls for urgency,  
despite that urgency not actually mattering. But 
I was fine to live with some of that dissonance.  
To even try to headcanon my way of it—if these 
were Vs final days to live, my final days to live,  
I was going to live them deliberately. I 
connected to the world, and that made it all  
that much easier to connect to everything within 
it, to empathize deeply with characters I kind of  
assumed I would never care about. I not only fell 
in love with a game that I never expected to love,  
but I also love it for reasons I never expected 
to matter so much to me. I’ve always found a title  
having a real sense of place to be an important 
aspect, but typically as a supporting piece,  
not the primary one, and so it was refreshing to 
experience it the other way around. To forgive  
things that are often dealbreakers for me due to 
the excellence of an element I tend to look past.
After finishing Cyberpunk 2077, I planned 
to play some shorter games to refresh  
my palette a bit as the idea of jumping 
into something else all that substantial,  
especially another RPG seemed like it’d be 
exhausting, but then out of nowhere this  
game called Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 came 
out, and the next month of my life was gone.
About a month before playing Clair Obscur: 
Expedition 33, I turned 34. Thankfully, as  
I began the game and the gommage claimed everyone 
my age, I did not dissolve into petals. Instead,  
this moment, as well as the wider concept acted 
as one of the most intriguing hooks I’ve ever  
seen in a game. The initial question Clair Obscur 
explores, that of how should one live their life  
in a world that is fading away is one that makes 
my mind burn. As individuals we accept that one  
day there will not be a tomorrow for us, but 
the silver lining in that comes from the ways  
we live on through those we love, through the 
things we make, through the change we bring;  
but what if all of that is slowly ticking away as 
well? For Gustave, the members of his expedition,  
as well as those of expeditions past, the answer 
is to find a way to make things easier for their  
successors. To bring them a step closer 
to stopping the Paintress. They fight for  
a future they can’t even really envision but 
will die in the hopes that it can come to pass.
I found this energy to be irresistible. 
Everytime someone said For Those Who  
Come After or Tomorrow Comes, I couldn’t help but 
echo them under my breath. As it is a video game,  
I figured that one way or another this would 
be the final expedition, but I still approached  
it all with the hope of bringing about 
something better for the next generation.
Of course, Clair Obscur ends up 
being about more than just this.  
It explores purpose and existence from many 
different angles that stray far away from  
the initial conceit, and while those explorations 
are interesting and effective in their own ways,  
the ideas introduced at the start are 
what really made the game matter to me.
As I’ve gotten older, the way I view the future 
has shifted. For so long I saw it as something I  
would inherit, and in some ways I still do. 34 
feels much younger than I expected 34 to feel,  
and with any luck there is significantly more 
future ahead of me than there is past behind,  
but also I now see the future as something 
to steward. To keep safe for those who come  
after. I’ve felt this way for awhile, but 
obviously having kids has escalated it to  
new levels. Clair Obscur is compelling on so 
many different fronts, but it was this ethos,  
this dedication to making sure Tomorrow Comes 
that got me to care so quickly and so fully.
Because sometimes the only way to overcome 
the impossible is through years and years  
of consistent actions that add up until 
it doesn’t seem so impossible any more.
Speaking of which, on September 4th, 
2025 Hollow Knight: Silksong released.
Given the amount of time that has passed since 
its initial announcement, I grew beyond having  
any sort of expectations for the game. I pretty 
much entirely stopped thinking about what it  
might be like and instead only thought about it 
through the lens of being a running bits, whether  
it was reposting my Pain of Waiting thumbnail, 
or ending every one of these yearly videos  
with some variation of “here’s to hoping Silksong 
actually comes out this year” and I’ll be honest,  
when I said it in the last video, I did not 
expect that this would be the year. I figured it  
would largely be more Hollow Knight, and in some 
ways it is although far less so than I expected,  
and it differs in surprising and welcome ways. 
They didn’t just take the Knight and add more—they  
took Hornet, adapted her to make sense as a 
protagonist, and built everything around that.  
And so it walks this line of both feeling like a 
natural progression of Hollow Knight through its  
general approach to aesthetics and world design, 
as well as feeling like its own thing. It operates  
at a completely different speed than Hollow 
Knight, and while this took a bit to get used to,  
once I did, I never looked back. Regardless of 
whether or not it was the game I expected or  
thought I wanted, it ended up being the one that 
I needed. It not only resonated with me more than  
its predecessor, but more than almost any other 
game I can think of. There certainly is a chance  
that the shine of recency will wear off and my 
opinion on it will dim a bit, but right now, it is  
in that top 5 zone. I relished every opportunity I 
got to get better at the movement and the combat,  
which is to say I was always relishing as the 
two are so often are paired together; I basked  
in getting truly and utterly lost, refusing to use 
the compass because I wanted to really know my way  
through Pharloom, and by the end I did; I found 
assurance in Hornet’s strength of personality,  
her insistence on imposing her will on the 
world despite how treacherous and powerful that  
world may be, and refusing to let it happen the 
other way around. Really, this last part is the  
one that surprised me the most. Hollow Knight’s 
narrative primarily exists just below the surface,  
but Silksong’s stands in the forefront. Hornet 
has purpose, and she makes that known. Through  
her and her observations, the game explores the 
effect of power, whether it be from structures  
or individuals, and I never thought I’d be so 
inspired by the confidence of a little bug—I  
never thought I would need to be so inspired by 
the confidence of a little bug, but here we are.
Over this past year, I’ve dabbled a bit 
with doomerism. I’m not proud of it,  
but it regularly seeps into my thoughts. 
Never before in my life have I seen  
more pieces of news where it was hard to 
think anything other than “it’s so over.”
To be clear, I don’t really think that it 
is. Or at least, I can’t really think it  
is because…I just can’t. However, we are in the 
midst of an era of great consequence socially,  
economically, and technologically, 
and those who are at the helm,  
those that have the most power to dictate how 
the next 20 years will go, are the people I  
trust the least to act in the collective us’s 
best interest proven by how they never do.
And so maybe it isn’t a surprise that the 
three games I connected to most last year  
explored what it takes to survive within an 
ultra-capitalistic hellscape in its latest  
stage, what we are left with when each passing 
generation has less of a future than the last,  
and how the stubborn and careless use of absolute 
power decays a society from the top down.
It’s sometimes good to be seen by 
the things you play. I think a lot  
about games as a form of escapism, and 
what always has been the case for me,  
what it always seems to come back to with 
the Games That Get Me Through The Year,  
is that the ones that bring me the most relief 
aren’t the ones that make me forget everything;  
they’re the ones that help me process it 
all in a way that doesn’t feel as heavy.  
In a way that doesn’t feel as impossible. In 
a way that doesn’t feel like it’s so over.
Because thinking that it’s over is useless. 
It doesn’t help anyone. Despair is easy,  
and those who wield it as a weapon know 
this. The goal is to make it all seem  
like an impossible machine for any individual 
to do anything about it, but it's not about  
any individual doing everything; it’s 
about many individuals doing something.
It is about community, and reminders of this are 
what get me through each day, whether they come  
from watching my kids grow up, and witnessing the 
ways they are loved not just by me and my wife,  
but by family and friends and teachers, all of 
whom have played a part in shaping who they are  
now and who they will be one day. Or from seeing 
people rally together, like those in Minneapolis  
who have engaged not just in protest and 
fundraising but also in a level of dedicated local  
mutual aid unlike anything I’ve seen before in my 
life, or even from playing as a bug who discovers  
that despite there being no quick and clean way to 
undo the rot of corruption, the best path forward  
is and will always be helping those who need 
it and be willing to accept help from them too.
There are many reasons to want to despair, and 
so it has been important for me to do everything  
I can to find even more reasons to not. It 
doesn’t matter where they come from—it just  
matters that they do. That instead of feeling 
paralyzed by the inability to fix everything,  
I have the clarity to focus on 
the ways I can do something.
I needed games in 2025 in a way that I don’t 
think I have in a long time—maybe ever. And what  
surprised me is that they met the moment. Frankly, 
I probably willed them to meet the moment. Playing  
them and talking about them made me feel human. 
What’s more is that instead of simply distracting  
me from the pervasive sense of existential dread 
that is just a part of my life now, they helped me  
refocus; they made tackling everything else feel 
easier. I get the sense 2026 will be the same way.
Like, always, I do not know 
what this next year will bring.  
I have my hopes and I have my fears, 
but neither truly matter that much. What  
does matter is that it isn’t over. It’s 
never over. So here’s to the new year,  
and remembering that Hollow Knight: Silksong 
actually came out, so anything is possible.
Reflecting on my year in gaming is something I 
look forward to every single year, and I also look  
forward to hearing other people’s thoughts on the 
stuff they’ve played and what it means to them.  
With that in mind, I thought it’d be fun to have 
a recorded conversation with two of the people I  
talk about games with the most, Iron Pineapple 
and Yakkocmn, where we discuss our thoughts on  
gaming in 2025. We talked about our games of 
the year, our not so obvious games of the year,  
more granular stuff like favorite mechanics and 
moments from games we played last year, and even  
our hater take of the year. If you’re interested 
in the conversation, you can watch it right now  
over on Nebula. I’ve talked about it before and 
will again, but Nebula is a big part of why I get  
to do the things I do. It supports the work of 
tons of incredible creators, many of whom are in  
the gaming space like Jacob Geller, Game Maker’s 
Toolkit, Eurothug4000 among many others, and  
provides various opportunities for those 
people to create great stuff. For instance,  
KingK’s series Masterful Mimicry where he 
delves into the artistic and historical  
influences of various games. He’s covered Okami, 
Silksong, and most recently Cuphead. In general,  
there is a ton of exclusive content over on 
Nebula, and even a fair bit made by me. Along  
with the conversation I had with Pine and Yakko, 
I’ve put out a dozen or so videos you can only  
watch over there, so if you’d like to check them 
out, you can go to nebula.tv/razbuten or click the  
link in the description to get 50% off for the 
year, coming out to 2 and a half bucks a month.  
If you really love the idea of Nebula, right 
now you can get a lifetime subscription which  
is normally a one-time payment of $500 for just 
$300 dollars. You even can gift monthly, yearly,  
or lifetime memberships. Nebula is a massive 
pillar of support for myself and all of the  
creators on there so I appreciate you all for 
listening to my yap about it for a bit. Anyway,  
go check out my conversation with Pine 
and Yakko, as well as Masterful Mimicry  
and everything else the site has to offer. 
Thanks to Nebula for sponsoring this video.
For all of you still here, hi. Hello. 
Thanks to my patrons for making this  
possible. It makes all this easier. It makes 
all this better. I appreciate you. And yeah,  
I don't know. Have a good day and 
or night. I hope you're well. I  
hope your New Year is going okay. 
Take care of yourself, okay? Bye.