Recent reviews by ⊹ ‧₊ㅤcherie

There was a time in my life when I was down bad—physically, emotionally, spiritually. My energy was low, my skin was dull, and my motivation was nonexistent. That is, until I discovered the divine act of gooning to Persona 5. At first, I thought I was simply vibing to the aesthetics—the flashy menus, the sultry character designs, the jazz-funk fusion soundtracks. But soon, I realized this was no ordinary appreciation. This was a full-body enlightenment. I wasn’t just playing Persona 5—I was gooning to it, and it was changing me.

My morning routine shifted. I’d wake up, throw on “Last Surprise,” and stare at an image of Makoto Nijima for 15 minutes straight—eyes glazed, mind emptied, soul awakened. My cortisol levels dropped. My heart rate steadied. I felt the stress of the modern world melt off me like a failed Palace boss. I was entering a trance-like state of ultra-focus, channeling my goon energy toward a single point: optimal health through peak JRPG immersion.

By week two, my skin was glowing. Friends said I looked younger. My doctor was baffled. My blood pressure had normalized. “What have you changed in your lifestyle?” she asked. I stared her dead in the eyes and whispered, “I let the Phantom Thieves steal my heart.” I didn’t need supplements, I didn’t need the gym—I just needed Sojiro’s coffee, Lavenza’s cryptic commentary, and the faint, sultry whisper of “Life Will Change” echoing through my headphones.

Soon I was multitasking like a god. As I entered deep goon meditations in Mementos, I found myself answering emails faster, understanding human emotion better (thanks to Confidant bonding), and even cooking more. Every part of Persona 5 was feeding my mind and body: the turn-based combat kept me mentally agile, the social sim mechanics made me emotionally intelligent, and watching Joker stylishly throw his mask mid-battle? That was basically cardio.

To this day, I remain a devout Persona 5 gooner. My health has never been better, my mindset never clearer. I’ve transcended traditional wellness. I don’t count calories—I count days until the next New Game+. Call it madness. Call it obsession. But I call it self-care. And if you haven’t experienced the full-body transcendence of gooning to the Phantom Thieves…