“Despite everything, it’s still you.” I played the game Undertale when I was eleven years old, and to this day, that singular line of text always evokes potent emotions of self-reflection within me. The line comes near the end of the game, being a continuation from the original “It’s you!” text viewed from interacting with a mirror in the beginning. It’s seen after traveling through the entire underground world and facing countless monsters–ones that, despite having the option of violent slaughter, you can all befriend through kindness and compassion. The mirror’s text appears only on this pacifistic route, and is a line whose meaning, like for thousands of others who played the game, has stuck with me long after completing it: a gentle reminder that no matter what horrors you face, you can, and will, persist. Like other forms of artistic expression, many video games I’ve played have fostered moments of introspection and humanness through quirky characters and emotionally evocative scenes. It feels funny to say, but those little sequences and lines of text on a screen have fundamentally shaped the person writing this today. As I’ve grown up, I’ve expanded my adoration for video games to encompass various aspects of game development, including art, music, and coding. This passion initially manifested through creating fanmade music and concept art for projects I followed. My dedication resulted in my acceptance into a group of game-modding teens–people who alter games to implement original creations–self-titled “Team ShatterDisk” in 2022. Over my years with the group, I have developed the artistic and mechanical skills to be capable of creating modifications of different games on my own, and these skills blossomed into fully original products as well. And the honing of these skills are all built upon the foundation of a simple idea: paying my experience forward. Video games, for many people, are seen as entertainment without much depth beyond it. While it may be the case for some, many of the most impactful stories I have experienced were felt while immersed in a game. In Undertale, I witnessed the zany skeleton named Papyrus try to capture me in hopes of gaining fame and recognition, and helped him understand popularity isn’t needed to have friends. I helped the intimidating and fish soldier Undyne learn that not all humans are bad, and assisted the anxious lizard girl Alphys in learning to face her fears of public ridicule at her mistakes. Inserting yourself into the world of a game enables a deeper view of a world and its inhabitants that other media often cannot recreate. Watching and relating to these victories and struggles has fostered deep connections to the characters, but also aided me in understanding myself as a person as well—even in aspects as fundamental as my own identity as a transgender woman. My true love of games comes from their unique way of connecting players to their worlds and characters. Their tales can shine lights on parts of ourselves that were otherwise kept in the dark, and provide an avenue to confront, reflect upon, and accept who we are as people. As small as many games are, I know firsthand how much they can help a person grow into the best version of themselves. My one goal is to weave together a world that allows another person to experience the same emotions I have—to design a character that inspires them, a scene that reflects them, and a line that sticks with them and helps them develop into themselves—not too different from the small child wandering into the underground all those years ago.

To know how to love all of oneself is one of the most important things a person could learn. That is the message I have obtained throughout the past three years of discovering my identity as a transgender woman. This journey arose from the game Celeste, a game centered around a woman named Madeline combating a hostile part of herself given form as she climbs a magical mountain. As they clash, Madeline is intent on abandoning this part of her, believing she does not need to keep a part of herself that is sabotaging her own progress. However, she comes to understand that this part of her is simply scared and trying to protect her, and that embracing her—all of her—is the only true way to move forward from her climb and the struggles of the past. Madeline’s experiences with internal battles and self-love are ones that resonated with me very potently as a young transgender woman. Her story pushed me to view myself differently, and to treat the parts of me I felt disdain towards with gentle reassurance, rather than sharp aggression like Madeline and I once did. This shift in perspective would extend beyond more than just towards myself, though: At school, I joined the Gay-Straight Alliance and Trans-Nonbinary clubs, student-led organizations that provide a comfortable space for students to discuss their identities and discover themselves among peers. These groups are small and tight-knit, allowing for more personal conversations and bonds to flourish. Conversely, I am also a member of the VIVID organization outside of school. Short for “Validating and Including Voices In Diversity,” the group focuses on arranging events to uplift our local queer communities. These events, such as Queer Prom, are larger spaces for members of the LGBTQ+ community to gather and express themselves in a safe and supportive environment. While the school clubs provide individual support, events hosted by VIVID offer external advocacy that can unite the broader community as a whole. My involvement in these groups across multiple years has showcased the importance of both forms of support, and I intend to continue upholding their levels of advocacy as I transition into college. Being able to watch both myself and many of my queer friends learn to understand and love ourselves fully has been eye-opening. Witnessing self-expression flourish in others makes the world feel that little bit brighter; it is as if weights drop off of their shoulders and let them relax for the first time in years. Forming a charity that focuses on promoting expression and exploration in others is a wonderful way to share that experience with even more people beyond local communities. Similar to many of VIVID’s events, it would house gender-affirming haircuts, an expansive wardrobe of clothes to explore style, and ways to communicate with peers who were in their same positions not long ago. Whether individuals are transgender like me, or simply aiming to uncover another aspect of themselves, actualizing the truest version of oneself is a feat that can be universally freeing. The journey of self-expression can be much like climbing our own mountains; sometimes you just need the right tools, and a little push, to reach the gorgeous view at the summit.

One short scene was all it took to completely shift my view of my own identity. The walls turned from orange to green as she stepped out from the doorframe. “I was trying so hard to wear this thing the way you would want. And I didn’t.” The details blurred from sharp lines forming a room to strokes of paint. She felt wronged by the world, confined into a role she had never asked for. She tried so hard to fit the mold that was given. She didn’t want to make waves, she didn’t want to hurt people. But she was dealt a hand in a game she never wished to play, a division she never wanted. “...They can only know half of who I am.” The paint melted to watercolor, devolved into abstract shapes. She felt fragmented in her own mind. One part high schooler, one part superhero, both parts incompatible. She was lonely. And I saw myself in her inability to understand her own selfhood. Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse is one of the few movies I wish I could have watched again for the first time. Gwen Stacy, like many other Spider-Men, had faced the realization that no one can know who she is under the mask, no matter how close. A part of her has to be locked away from the world to protect herself. Gwen’s father, however, learns of her superhero identity after the death of her world’s Peter Parker. Even in revealing herself, it's clear why she was so reluctant to show her identity—she was held at gunpoint, accused of murdering Peter, by her own father. She was reclusive, not out of a lack of love, but out of fear that was proven to be true. Later in the movie, though, Gwen confronts her father again, echoing her earlier sentiments with a confession: She doesn’t know what to do. There is no right decision to make, not in a world where she can’t just be Gwen without these fractures partitioning who she is into two equally false selves. When I watched Across the Spider-Verse, I had known I was a transgender woman for around one full year. I had opened up to close friends, found my new name, and began privately exploring who I was behind my own mask I hadn’t realized I was wearing for so long. Despite it all, I had yet to tell my parents about this reality, and the justification was identical to Gwen’s: fear of disapproval and loneliness, even when I knew I would be accepted. But unlike the reaction many transgender children unfortunately receive, Gwen was met with reassurance from her father. “My job, being captain, this whole…thing doesn’t matter anymore. You’re the best thing I’ve ever done.” Gwen’s struggles of weighing the different personas she must project to safeguard herself resonated starkly with my own, and through that, the scene instilled me with the same hope Gwen received from her father. It gave me faith, as I watched the room fade back into detail from pure whites and pinks, that I could be seen in the same way she was. It helped me believe that acceptance and understanding weren’t as daunting as I feared. I almost came out to my parents that same night; a part of me chose to wait for a better time than a Thursday evening to announce it. But Gwen’s speech persisted in the back of my mind until the day I finally did, giving me that simple reminder of hope—for myself, for her, and for our truest selves.

Exploring the impacts of science on our lives every day feels like watching a massive spider web of all the activities we do and devices we use: Everything is connected with each other. I have always viewed science and engineering as the dynamic duo of humanity’s technological advancements. No matter what you are interacting with, or what task you’re performing, there will be a link leading back to at least one of them. Many of these are more obvious; advancements in medical technologies are driven by discoveries in biology and chemistry, and shifts to renewable energy are predicated on information provided by environmental sciences such as ecology. However, the connections run deeper into daily life than I believe most people recognize. One prime example of this is the vehicles we use to travel every day. The production and optimization of fuels such as gasoline and diesel are influenced by chemistry, and the field can even be involved in protective paints for vehicles as well. Additionally, physics pairs with engineering to design aerodynamic structures for vehicles while still ensuring their safety. The same can be said for many other appliances, crafted with the science of their function in mind. Even devices as ordinary as a microwave use humanity’s understanding of physics and electricity to be designed to heat food of different types and qualities properly. Without the findings of countless researchers and scientists, much of the technology we utilize today would not exist—even the ones we perceive to be more mundane. These discoveries and inventions were spearheaded by scientists in the top of their field, and their leadership in directing projects and working to foster innovation allowed them to be utilized to the fullest. Science is one of the most prominent promoters of human-wide advancement, from technology and health to exploration and protection of our planet. Progression in technologies hinge greatly on the work that teams of professionals produce, and these leaders throughout the vast fields of science have the responsibility to lead their fields forward to new discoveries. Their revelations, and the changes they bring, will continue to create ripples that affect the way we interact with the world around us, and with each other.