This level, without a doubt, is Zoroa's obra maestra. Three solid minutes of probably some of the rawest emotions in the entire game. I don't know if there was any sort of connection between Zoroa and Michigun, but Zoroa was clearly affected by Michi's death. I think a lot of us back then were.

The level starts off simple (thematically, at least); the only thing to notice, really, in the first part is the piano keys at the top and bottom. The piano seems to be a common motif; the keys return towards the end of the level, and the second part shows a grand piano in the background and has a short section where pre-1.9-style piano keys are used as platforms. The usage of pianos as a motif is probably just because of the song being a piano arrangement of another song, but I think it really ties the level together. I also really love the way the piano keys in the second part light up and fall down in sync with the music, which brings me to another point:

Color. This level hardly uses any of it. It's almost entirely grayscale (mostly black), which seems like a clear indicator of feelings of depression — after all, someone's just died, and it's obviously someone you care about because who doesn't care about them, and you don't really experience much color while you're grieving someone's death. The grayscale also has the effect that any color intentionally placed within the level has a massive impact. This level has only four major instances of color unrelated to gameplay elements: the aforementioned piano keys; two small arcs of color in the same part, before and after the piano keys; and the cube's tears in the immediate next part. Perhaps I'm not the best equipped to analyze what they might mean (my best guess is that they represent positive memories?), but they're clearly important enough that Zoroa wanted them to stand out.

Speaking of the karaoke part, the song. I somehow don't listen to Porter Robinson yet, but I am well aware that he is a widely-acclaimed musician. From what I can tell from the given lyrics, Shelter seems like a song about moving out from your parents' house? In any case, the lyrics seem to imply that the person the singer is soliloquizing (just learned that was a word) towards is still alive; however, the person who's intended to fill that role here has just died, which recontextualizes the lyrics somewhat. I don't honestly know how to analyze this new context. I'll leave that to other people better suited for doing such. Whatever exactly it means, the song choice is perfect; Phyrnna did a wonderful job arranging this, and Zoroa did a beautiful job converting it into a level.

I find it interesting that the next part is the dedications. Typically, that's put at the end of the level, and that's also the case here, but there's dedications in the middle of the level, which is interesting because of how unconventional it is. Could be that Zoroa found that to be an appropriate place to acknowledge his friends who supported him during the level's creation.

Anyway, the next part is the climax of the level, and it really stands out a lot from everything else. Most of the level is a cleaner art/design style, but Zoroa decided to lean slightly towards realism here and make the platforms look like clouds more than clean structures, which kinda detracts from the readability a bit, but does wonders for the storytelling. It gives the impression that — for a moment — you've ascended to visit heaven and see Michigun himself. And then the backwards dash orbs take you back through the rest of the level, all the grieving and everything, and the lyrics from the song echo through to remind you that "I know I'm not alone" — although the person himself is gone, Michigun's legacy lives on in our souls; all we can do is carry on and keep him in our memories. And maybe it'll hurt for a while, and that's okay.

All in all, this masterpiece of a level is easily the best in Zoroa's portfolio, and probably one of the best across the entire servers.