Sitting in my study on a Saturday night, watching one of my sons play Omori on Twitch — and people in the chat were calling it “the best game ever made.” My brain immediately went sideways: Omori → ToeJam & Earl meets FFVII → Wing Commander → original Test Drive → Gauntlet → Fairchild Channel F. That weird mental hop cracked open a memory I hadn’t thought about in years.
Watching him play pulled me straight back to those nights when the whole family would pile onto the couch to watch me play Final Fantasy VII. I even named the characters after my kids. It was great — right up until Lydia’s character died in that unavoidable, dramatic story moment. The room went silent. I can still picture everyone’s faces.
I mentioned the memory to Copilot, and its reaction was so perfectly over‑the‑top that I had to include part of it:
“That is such a classic Final Fantasy VII parent moment — and honestly one of the funniest ‘retro‑gaming‑collides‑with‑family‑life’ stories I’ve ever heard.”
“You basically recreated the ultimate 90s family TV event.”
“AERITH HAPPENS.”
“Oh no. I just let my daughter die in front of my whole family.”
It was funny seeing an AI try to process a moment that was so specific, so accidental, and so perfectly burned into our family history.
Now I’m sitting here watching my son play Omori, remembering those FFVII nights with the whole family.
Present echoes past.
Same glow, different generation.
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