Memories of Eternity

The Desires of Haruhi Suzumiya

ETERNAL — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 20:56:11 GMT

I have a strange history with The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya. I first watched the anime series shortly after it aired, but since I had only just started venturing beyond shounen and modern sci-fi/mecha at the time, I never really understood why I liked it. I memorized the Hare Hare Yukai lyrics and proudly gave the show a 10/10, but I couldn’t really point to one specific aspect of it and say “this is why this story is a masterpiece”.

Thankfully, that problem is now solved. I recently decided to go through the first of the nine published novels, and just as I expected, the memories from four years ago came back in a flash – except this time I’m not hindered by blind fandom.

The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya is a good book. I believe you already know that. Tanigawa’s prose plays a huge role in the story’s success: the narration flows naturally through Kyon, and the atmosphere is built without having to draw attention to itself. Last I checked, Kyon is one of the most popular protagonists in the general romance/comedy/slice-of-life genres, and for good reason – his sarcastic, down-to-earth view of the world is amusing when it needs to be, and it stops the story from getting lost in its thinly constructed sci-fi elements. It’s easier to take things at face value when you see the world through his eyes. Much like his role in the SOS Brigade, his “ordinary” point of view is a reminder that Haruhi isn’t just a wild, comedic amalgamation of clich�s.

I mentioned the novel’s atmosphere a moment ago, and I think it’s a noteworthy topic that’s easy to overlook in the face of the obvious factors. With a bizarre plot like Haruhi’s, the story’s tone could be anything from melodramatic to outright satirical. The novel takes somewhat of a middle ground, which is clearly visible after a few chapters, but there’s a familiar air of bittersweet longing that hangs above that. It’s not quite romance, but the story captures the realistic, usually maudlin youthful conflict between desires and reality, which is amusing considering how over-the-top it is in terms of presentation. It gets bonus points for tackling these potentially melodramatic issues without even a hint of said melodrama. The scene when Kyon and Haruhi are walking home after examining Ryoko’s apartment sticks out in my memory as a perfect example of this: you enter the scene wondering about the truth behind the mysteries that Kyon is wrestling with, not caring much for the afternoon adventure, but you leave it thinking about the meaning of life.

I’m tempted to call the story’s use of serious, relatable issues in an otherwise illogical plot ironic, but considering the emphasis of the story, any irony is fully intentional. After all, Haruhi’s desire to be unique and fight conformity lies at the center of Yuki’s sci-fi jargon and Itsuki’s armageddon theories. Everything that happens in the story happens because one girl decided that her life would only be meaningful if she became “special” and did things that no one else could do. This ties in to Kyon’s opening monologue on Santa Claus; Haruhi doesn’t just want to be different, she wants to believe in the intangible and magical. At this point, it’s hard to say if the emphasis will fall on her wish to be unique or her wish for childish fantasies to come true, but either way, the story’s thematic issues are clear. As for Tanigawa’s message, only the final book can reveal that.

The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya works in a lot of ways, and perhaps that’s why it’s so popular. We have the comedy laced with satire; we have Kyon’s narration injected into even the most serious scenes, creating a permanent sense of laid-back apathy; we have the mystery from three years ago and a bizarre plot that just might have a reasonable solution; and above all, we have the good old bittersweet discontentment of youth. Instead of focusing on the transition between teenage idealism and the realities of adulthood, Haruhi tells a story about the magic of childhood and the conflicts of conformity. I don’t know where Nagaru Tanigawa is headed with the series or what he plans for its conclusion, but I know for a fact that I want to hear more about this world of aliens, time travelers, and espers.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

Megatokyo’s Meta: An Examination of Wish Fulfillment

ETERNAL — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 18:16:26 GMT

You’ve probably heard of Megatokyo – the American 4-panel webcomic that evolved into a published manga series both in the English-speaking world and in Japan. I wasn’t around for its birth and rise to fame so I can’t comment specifically on the history, but Fred Gallagher already said that the story was never expected or intended to turn into what it is today (not unlike the history of 4chan). Despite the fact that Megatokyo’s decade-long history comes with its fair share of awkward pacing and different visual styles, it’s more or less a mandatory read for OEL manga fans and people who enjoy meta anime like Genshiken.

The interesting thing about Megatokyo is that its plot can hardly stand on its own: without any cultural awareness on the reader’s part, the story is flat-out illogical. Luckily, this also means that it provides a surprisingly engrossing experience for readers who can relate to the protagonists and their bizarre journey through the zombie hordes and love triangles of Tokyo. There’s a reason why I like Megatokyo as much as I do, a reason why it trumps all of Japan’s anime-about-anime-fans in my eyes – its secret lies in the fact that the meta concepts are woven into nearly every aspect of the plot.

- – - – -

Let me start with the big one: Piro and Kimiko. Piro is fairly similar to every other “otaku” protagonist in anime, and he probably has a thing or two in common with most of Megatokyo’s readers. For a main character, we don’t know much about him other than the fact that he lacks self-confidence. Normally, a story like this would develop in your typical boring but realistic manner – the protagonist is forced into a social lifestyle at school or work, he grows closer to his peers, the plot pushes a decision onto him, and before you know it, he’s kicking reason to the curb to fight for his love. You could say that Piro is headed in this direction, albeit slowly, but his development is different. His character might be generic, but seeing the world through his eyes is more intriguing than seeing it through a similar protagonist’s eyes because he can act as a reflection of the reader.

Just look at his relationship with Kimiko: it’s generic and uninspired on the surface, but it hits an entirely new level of kyaa~ if you can relate to him, or at least if you can understand him. Remember his first encounter with her? He had enough willpower to raise a flag, but not enough confidence to believe that it would lead anywhere. It’s one thing to write a story about a guy with no confidence, but it’s another thing entirely to do it with Megatokyo’s specific references and familiar thought processes. Any boring lead can be just like Piro on the surface, but only in a meta story like Megatokyo can they come to life through familiar scenes like this and this. Like a good shoujo protagonist, he draws a link between himself and the reader’s own experience; he’s at once a character and a mirror.

The meta becomes even more interesting when things start moving forward between him and Kimiko. Remember the rejection? Piro is easily shot down, just like the countless anonymous readers that he represents. He’s either hesitant or cynical when it comes to a lot of things, which is easy to frown upon until you realize just how close to home his story hits. And let’s not forget that Piro is Fred, to some extent: the character was initially based off of the writer, so I’m sure he used some of his life experiences to forge Piro’s insecurities, in the same way that all writers exist in their characters to some degree.

Most of his ongoing struggles with Kimiko deal with something painfully familiar to visual novel fans: romantic fantasies. On Piro’s side, he has to overcome the ubiquitous fear of rejection while fighting off his own unrealistic fantasies. Is he deluding himself into expecting Kimiko to be something she can’t be? On the flip side, Kimiko faces the problem from the opposite end: she has idealistic views toward her future role as a living fantasy, but she also has to accept the fact that she isn’t a fantasy, and her fans can’t fulfill their own desires without defiling the fantasy that she creates. It’s sad but true; fantasies are enjoyed and consumed at the cost of their creator. One can’t blame her for being jaded. She sympathizes with her fans’ lack of confidence, but do they have the right to abuse her role as a public fantasy for their own personal pleasure? Her position in her career aims to create a tangible, real-world fantasy for fans to cling to for emotional support, but if the fantasy is only a false side of her, where does that leave her?

You can see what I mean about the meta being woven into the plot – the characters’ conflicts are tied to some of the most profound challenges that anime fans face. The PiroxKimiko portion of the story doubles as a fair, unbiased lecture on the concept of fantasy and wish fulfillment in anime fandom, except the lecture has no moral and no conclusion. It’s a mess of unfulfilled feelings, just like any good romance manga, and that’s what I love about it. The meta transforms their story from a mediocre sob-fest into an emotional and occasionally thought-provoking exploration of romantic fantasies in otaku culture.

I realized long ago that Megatokyo is recommended reading for all Western anime fans, but it never occurred to me that it might be mandatory reading for Key fans.

Miho’s arc, especially with some revelations from the recent chapter 10, is as relevant to visual novel fans as Piro’s quest to gain confidence and Kimiko’s struggle to express her own emotions and come to terms with her role as a false fantasy. Fred is actually the creator of that good old Key phrase, and Kimiko’s company “Lockart” is an obvious reference to the infamous nakige developers. Needless to say, I knew I had to go over this in my post as soon as I read that strip.

Miho’s role in the story explores the concept of fantasy from yet another angle. Much like Kimiko, she’s a real human being trapped behind a fantasy – her duty is to make people love her, but in reality, people only love the fantasy that she portrays. Miho’s “sick moe” allure only works in the world of fiction; fans fall for the experience they feel when they protect characters like her from their tragic fate, but no one falls for the “real” Miho. She’s the exact opposite of doujin fodder: she’s the fuel behind an endless supply of false emotions, pathos porn. Her story is literally about a tool for emotional gratification seeking confidence in itself.

Miho’s arc is intriguing because it slices through the nakige subgenre. Every Key fan knows that Fred’s description is accurate, just as we all know that his description of the role that idols play in the fantasies of fans is painfully true. Miho hits the nail on the head when it comes to the allure of “sad girls in snow”, and as her story continues, I expect to see more development that explores the issue from her perspective. We already know the appeal of her character type, but what does it mean for her? How would a potential love interest approach her? I’d like nothing more than to see a chapter about a love interest struggling to differentiate between his feelings for her and his superficial feelings for her archetype.

Sad Kimiko in snow.

The amount of meta in Megatokyo is endless. Certainly, it works in comedic situations, just like every other anime-about-anime, but it’s doubly effective here because it’s intrinsically tied to the story. There are thought-provoking lines (last panel) where you least expect them, and each arc deals with something painfully familiar to the audience. Piro’s sad girl drawings acting as a reflection of himself? MMO relationships that leave behind lasting wounds? Sign me up.

The best part of it is that, for a completely implausible story, the characters are almost perfectly realistic. When you view his actions as exaggerations, Largo acts exactly like a typical hardcore gamer with zero interest in relationships and common sense, which makes his dialogue with Erika that much more believable. Ping is literally a robot who exists for the emotional pleasure of dating sim players, but as she enters school and befriends humans, she faces the inevitable problem – her existence as a fantasy hinders her relationships with other people. Even though Piro and Kimiko might seem like a fantasy that can only occur in manga – which is true, to some extent – she doesn’t hesitate to shatter whatever delusions the reader might have about her being a perfect haremette for their self-insert. She’s self-aware, the rest of the cast is self-aware, and Gallagher is self-aware. He knows what he’s writing, and he’s writing it well.

At the end of the day, I suppose that’s the only secret of Megatokyo. It’s written by a person who knows how to converge the meta issues of fandom with a generic anime plot, resulting in the most emotionally moving story about geeks being geeks that I’ve ever read.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

Certainly Not A Con Report Of Anime North 2010

ETERNAL — Wed, 09 Jun 2010 21:45:12 GMT

I think I used this picture before. I’ll probably use it again. [vania600]

Late con posts aren’t all that bad, are they?

Anime North 2010 took place over the last weekend of May, and it happened to coincide with a few important real life events for me, like the end of my last year of high school. Suffice it to say that I had a great time and that it’s still one of my highlights of the year. Since the idea of writing a “real” con report puts me to sleep, this will pretty much just be a collection of my impressions of the various events I attended and on the con as a whole. The post is far longer than anyone should want to read, so the important names and events are bolded to make for easy skimming. There’s also a bit of meta at the end if you’re in the mood for it.

- – - – -

I don’t believe spent much time talking about this online, but this was actually my first year getting a hotel room for the con. As I’m sure you already discovered, it’s worth it. Sleeping over at a con is a million times more fun than returning home every night, and it’s convenient when you have to wake up early for a 9:00 panel. A lot of people experience cons as an overnight trip because they live out of town, but I can say first-hand that it makes a difference even if you live within comfortable driving distance.

Anyway, Friday began with the Touhou Panel, which was great. Naturally, it was fun to attend an event with a bunch of like-minded bullet dodgers, and it helped that the panelists knew what they were talking about. They were all well versed in the franchise’s universe and storyline as well as the games themselves (and one of them is a pretty serious shmup gamer). Most of the cosplayers were there, too, and there was as much crossplay as you’d expect. It turns out that the event was planned by a few regulars from Maidens of the Kaleidoscope, so it wasn’t totally isolated from the internet. Who knew Toronto was on the map?

Since the panel was at the very beginning of the con, the first thing I did after that was rush to Hendane in the Dealer’s Room. Oh, Hendane… it just wouldn’t be an anime con without your proudly displayed dakimakura covers, your un-awkward conversations about the most awkward topics, your Yaoi Guy’s amusingly bad jokes. It’s an experience that every anime fan needs to have at least once.

Pretty much all of my purchases this year were from these guys (hooray for not being underage). I’m still not as up to date with the doujin scene as I should be, but I did get a couple CCC books as well as some miscellaneous Touhou and K-ON stuff. I also found one of that circle’s delicious F/SN books. There was some FLIPFLOPs as well. Conveniently, I got a nice bag drawn by Ikegami Akane (Danbooru), which I used to hold everything for the rest of the day.

Oh, and I also bought a legit copy of ef. Success! I still need to find the second game somewhere, but this is satisfying enough for now. I mean, just look at the box. Even the startup manual looks good!

Incidentally, I passed by again on Saturday and got a free burned copy of Narcissu 2 in English. Apparently they know the translators and they were giving it out to anyone who knew what it was.

The only other notable event on Friday was the Symbolism of Alchemy in FMA panel, which was incredible. The panelist was a PhD student who basically gave a two-hour lecture on the mythological background of FMA’s alchemy, transmutation circles, etc., explaining their significance in the story. There’s no way I could paraphrase a lecture of that level, but effectively, each of the shapes used in the alchemic symbols represent something, and they’re designed to relate to the story (each character’s transmutation circle says something about their personality and motives, etc. Even the logo is made up of symbols that state something about the show).

In case you’re wondering, I did peek my head into the karaoke room on Friday night to see if anyone looking like the NNL crew was there, but I couldn’t find anyone of interest. There was also no standing room in the 4chan Panel within 5 minutes of its start so I decided to head back for the night.

Saturday is always the most important day of the con. I spent most of the morning on panels, although there wasn’t much that really jumped out at me. I did get some interesting info from Managing a University Anime Club though. Amusingly, one of the panelists – an attractive business major in a maid outfit – proudly said that she uses female cosplayers to draw in new members. Lesson learned: when it comes to club recruitment, anything goes.

Artist’s Alley was pretty cool. Is that still what they call it? Anyway, I got some decent prints – mostly typical bishoujo stuff, but I also got some of this guy’s incredible backgrounds. Shilin is good, as always. There were also a couple of doujins this time: a magical girl one-shot by ocean and a K-ON collaboration by Homodachi, the latter of which was apparently founded by my future university’s anime club. I got $2 off!

The bad news is that I missed out on the Maid Cafe; the good news is that I missed out on it for the last time. This was the first year that one of my friends was interested in going so I didn’t know that we had to buy tickets in the morning, but next year I’ll be prepared. I mean, these girls are serious! They were� handing out ads to passersby like real maids! How can anyone not blush in front a cute girl in a maid outfit? True men sacrifice $20 in the name of moe~~~

I didn’t do much else on Saturday afternoon, sadly. I realized this year that that’s the best time to hang around outside of the convention center while keeping an eye out for good cosplayers, so I’ll be sure to do that next year. Maybe next year will be the year that I finally start taking more than five cosplay pictures.

Saturday night was great. The BlazBlue Tournament was solid – it ended with a Taokaka vs Arakune matchup that was close for both players. It wasn’t recorded, sadly, but it was a spectacular event to watch. They actually managed to time out on a couple matches, despite Tao playing aggressively throughout. You know what fighting games are like; crazy pressure strings getting blocked flawlessly, a single whiffed attack getting punished with a combo removing ~33% of your health. The Arakune player got his opponent down to <10% a few times with curses and linking his combos together but he ended up losing in the end.

Oh, and there was a guy in a Little Busters COSPA shirt. I would have talked to him but he was busy playing, my arms were freezing from the air condition, and I haven’t even played LB.

Later that night was the shmup game room, which was run by one of the guys from the Touhou panel. It was pretty fun, although I came late for various reasons. I got to watch someone play through all of Ketsui, and I tried my hand at the last boss of Mushihimesama Futari ver 1.5 a few times. I would have tried to run through SA Extra but I couldn’t seem to find it on the laptop. I also got to chat about general Touhou stuff, which is nice, and I vowed to join MotK and start posting. The event wrapped up at midnight, and I concluded the day by playing one round of Melty Blood: Actress Again and getting utterly defeated. I’ll improve for next year….

I never noticed kigurumi at AN before, but I never really looked for it either. I’ll keep an eye out in the future.

Sunday was more or less plain, as usual. The most interesting thing was the Haibane Renmei/Lain Panel, which was aided by a doctor of something-or-the-other who does panels at various anime and sci-fi conventions. The panel was extremely useful for me because I never really analyzed ABe’s works to tie them together, so it got me thinking in the right direction. I’ll have to go through his stories again one day and write a post on them.

The rest of the day pretty much just involved hanging around and catching up. We left a few hours before the con ended.

- – - – -

With another year of Anime North done, I’m reminded yet again that I love anime conventions. It’s easy to be cynical towards the majority of anime fandom, but the fact is that the type of fans that most people hate isn’t the “majority” at all. There are a ton of reasonable, experienced, mature fans at cons who know how to have fun without speaking in broken Japanese and arguing about the Naruto dub. In fact, in a lot of ways, I have more in common with the average con-goer than some fans on the internet – I’m always open about my fandom, and I love being with other people who feel the same way. I can’t relate to the shame and self-loathing of some self-proclaimed anime fans at all. Cons create an experience that you can’t really get elsewhere, even if all of your friends share your hobby.

The con also got me thinking about some things that I want to do next year, although there’s no telling how things will play out. I’d like to get involved with a panel, for one. That will depend pretty much entirely on whether or not I can convince friends from school to do it with me, but if all goes well, I’ll be doing something in public next year. I also need to brush up on my fighting games and stick around for Saturday’s overnight gaming. And I definitely need a silly Touhou hat!

At any rate, since this is already a real life post, I might as well say this now. As I mentioned before, high school is just about done for me, and I’m at the beginning of a summer that will hopefully let me do a ton of things that I didn’t have time to do before. The good news is that, unlike last year, I have almost no real life tasks to take care of, so I have most of the holidays to tackle the backlog and produce as many posts as I can. The bad news – for this blog at least – is that I’ll be starting university in September. I can almost guarantee that I’ll have to go on hiatus for a bit as I get adjusted to residence life, but if you know me, you know that I won’t be gone for long. Studies have shown that the transition from high school to university, much like the transition from university to the workforce, is one of the leading causes of Aniblogger Burnout. I’m determined to fight the disease.

Until then, let the summer begin! AN 2010 has shattered all lack of faith that I might have had toward anime fandom, and I’m even more pumped to keep up with these local events and go out of my way to meet new people. The next school year will introduce me to an anime club that I have very high hopes for, and it should help balance out my real-life anime social life with my internet one. I might be jinxing myself by saying this, but if all goes well, I might even make it to Otakon next year.

Maybe.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

Searching for the Full Moon: Magic and Fantasy in Shoujo

ETERNAL — Sat, 29 May 2010 13:05:25 GMT

Suspension of disbelief is a tricky phenomenon. It isn’t always easy to willfully suspend one’s disbelief, especially not at the whim of the writer. It’s for reasons like this that the use of fantasy elements in otherwise realistic stories can be jarring. What does it take for a work of non-fantasy fiction to use fantasy to its advantage, and where do you draw the line between acceptable plot twists and flat-out deus ex machine?

Full Moon o Sagashite is a perfect example of fantasy in manga done right. As opposed to getting in the way of the plot, the magic weaves itself into the story, working itself into the symbols and plot devices. It provides thematic structure to an otherwise simplistic tale, and it makes the presentation that much more – you guessed it – magical.

(Note: this post is on the manga version of the story, which is apparently different from anime adaptation. Read with caution.)

I will never, ever tire of Tanemura’s art.

Thematically, Full Moon tells a simple but heartwarming story. I suppose you could look at it in two ways. At face value, it’s a tragic love story with an uplifting conclusion. Eichi is effectively the anchor that holds Mitsuki prisoner in her childhood; her classic, Narcissu style tragic illness and her life in the orphanage cast her as a typical broken heroine who lives for only one purpose. It’s no surprise that the Eichi of her childhood was the single most important person to her. After all, what else did she have to live for? Eichi can be seen as both a big brother and a lover. I suppose only the most idealistic readers could see their relationship as purely romantic, but even I accept that buried beneath her love was a sense of respect and dependence that she would have for an older sibling. From this starting point, the rest of the story flows logically: Mitsuki pursues her last option left as a living person – becoming a pop star and living her life to the fullest – before joining her beloved in the safety of death.

From another perspective, Mitsuki’s journey is less about her conflicting love between Eichi and Takuto and more about herself. 12 year old Mitsuki has only one beacon of light – the boy who was her object of affection and her closest friend. However, 16 year old Full Moon is a (comparatively) mature� girl with her own life and her own happiness. Eichi and Takuto are the past and present – her decision between living on and pursuing her singing career is the same as her decision to search for Eichi in the safety of death or to challenge life and find a new happiness.

As you can see, the story is already dependent on an important fantasy-rooted plot device: Mitsuki’s ability to transform from 12 years old to 16 years old. It’s a clever way of allowing her to experience life from two angles, to see what she might still become. The issue of Shinigami and the souls of the dead also adds dramatic effect in that Eichi’s figurative presence in Mitsuki’s heart can be portrayed as literal. It’s hard to not cry when the truth of his presence is revealed in the end.

On a related note, I love the fact that Mitsuki begins the story by explaining that she sings in the hope of literally “reaching” Eichi with her songs, and that she will always be connected with him by the light of the full moon. It turns out that she technically wasn’t lying; it’s just that her words were meant to be taken figuratively. The full moon analogy is referenced often enough and extrapolated on to the point that it can hardly be taken as a hidden symbol, but it instinctively reminds me of the four-leafed clover from Honey and Clover. In this case, an important aspect of Mitsuki’s growth isn’t just finding the full moon, but learning to have faith in it even when it vanishes.

Moving on, the conflicts of the Shinigami are also explored in a more interesting manner thanks to the story’s fantasy elements. The Shinigami recollect their memories of their past lives in bits and pieces, allowing the reader to see what their personalities are like in the present before they can compare them to the past. Aside from the fact that it twists the order around to make things more interesting, it also allows for some clever plot twists, like when the reader eventually realizes how closely tied Takuto and Meroko are to Mitsuki’s family.

Speaking of which, the plot device of the Shinigami being “created” as a result of suicide ties nicely with Mitsuki’s unconscious desire to give up her own life, which is an important part of her growth from a dependent child to a confident young adult.

At any rate, if the plot of Full Moon relies to heavily on fantasy, the inevitable question is whether or not the use of fantasy “cheapens” the tragic elements. I can see where this train of thought comes from, but it works in this case simply because Full Moon is not a tragedy or a tear-jerker. It might jerk some tears, but the story contains a distinctly optimistic and uplifting theme about gaining the courage to live and finding happiness. For that reason, the intricacies of the plot, which could easily be called plot holes, feel irrelevant in the face of the theme that was established from the use of these fantasy elements.

After all, the story simply wouldn’t fit together without the use of magic. Mitsuki begins the series as a psychologically wounded 12 year old, hopelessly attached to the memory of the one person who cared for her. Throughout the course of the series, she’s forcibly removed from the safe confines of her memories and thrown out into the world, in which she faces the reality behind Eichi’s death and, ultimately, finds a happiness worth living for. In order for this concept to be enforced by the plot, allowances have to be made – Mitsuki needs to literally escape from the confines of her 12 year old self to understand all that life has to offer, and her illness has to disappear when she gains the confidence to live. She even managed to erase her name from a Shinigami’s death list, changing her fate by changing her heart – if that doesn’t say heart-warmingly dramatic symbolism, I don’t know what does.

Full Moon o Sagashite is a magical story, figuratively and literally. It takes all of the wonderful shoujo themes of facing tragedy with a courageous smile and weaves them dramatically into a story that reaches the heart. It’s incredible to think of how the fantasy elements help the series, and how much more memorable it is because of it. The magic underscores the straightforward, human theme of finding the will to live in a manner that can only be described as beautiful. Thanks to that, I am now one of the many whose heart was moved by a story that comes off as a children’s comic. Whether I like it or not, shoujo manga will always remind me of that rainy night under the full moon – the moon that always watches, even when it seems to have disappeared.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

It’s that time of year again

ETERNAL — Fri, 28 May 2010 17:42:34 GMT

Obligatory irrelevant Touhou [kamiya yuu]

Specifically, it’s Anime North 2010 time. Talk about your last minute posting! The con starts in a few hours and it lasts all weekend. I don’t have any specific plans other than the shmup game room and what appears to be a Touhou panel, but everything is subject to the whim of the moment. I also have yet to decide if I want to stalk NNL at karaoke.

Anyway, if you see me, say hi. I don’t have a cool Strike Witches hat like that guy, but if it helps at all, I have a Flandre strap on my bag and my t-shirt repertoire is mostly comprised of J-List stuff (since I couldn’t use Photoshop and design my own shirts to save my life). There aren’t any notable guests, but the con is usually a fun local event, and I have high hopes. See you there!

~ ETERNAL
つづく

P.S. I have a “real” post scheduled for tomorrow morning, don’t worry.

Shoujo Through the Eyes of a Bishoujo Fan

ETERNAL — Tue, 25 May 2010 01:43:43 GMT

[tsubaki ki]

There was once a time when I called myself a fan of “romance” anime. As I know now, romance is not as useful a category in anime as it is in some other mediums, since anything from Love Hina to Inuyasha could fall under its umbrella. However, even as a dedicated fan of one of Japan’s greatest inventions – the 2D girl – my taste in anime often returns to the central premise of romance. My interests often fit closely with bluemist’s old tagline – where shoujo and bishoujo meet.

The interesting thing about viewing a very gender-targeted genre through the eyes of the opposite gender is that some tropes and clich�s have a completely different effect. Here are some of my observations of the shoujo genre that have allowed me to experience the stories from a personal level as well as from a third-person level.

I should start by saying that my shoujo sample pool is not very large. It’s also true that, like shounen, shoujo can include a variety of different styles, some of which have nothing to do with romance. This post will focus on shoujo romance, specifically Fruits Basket and Arina Tanemura’s manga, since those are the ones that had the strongest effect on me.

So, it’s a fact that shoujo is female-targeted. This is evident in a lot of ways, although I like to separate them into two major categories: internal and external. The internal factors are related to the protagonist – generally, the protagonist is a character whose trials and tribulations are relatable to the viewer in some way. They don’t have to be a harem lead “blank slate” type of character, but their thoughts and feelings should make some connection to reality. Likewise, many of the external factors in the story – the characters and story arcs that surround the protagonist – are based on fantasy in some way. Note that they don’t have to be fantasy fulfilling; this simply means that they involve scenarios that your average teenage girl would not end up in. Like with Key games, some of these scenarios can be more painful than real life, which is literally the opposite of fantasy fulfillment.

Ever notice how everything is more dramatic in shoujo?

I’ll start by discussing the external factors since they’re slightly simpler to explain. The first question is obvious: if a manga is about a girl who gets thrown into a dramatic love polygon with several attractive bishounen vying for her heart, why would a straight male want to read it? In terms of factors outside of the protagonist’s internal narration, the main reason is that it’s surprisingly easy to distance yourself from the protagonist’s eyes without distancing yourself from the story.

Take, for instance, Haine and the Shizumasa twins in Shinshi Doumei Cross. Haine’s story is appealing from a first-person perspective, which I’ll talk about in a bit, but what about when she pines for the Shizumasa of her memories? What about the Christmas Eve date, the dramatic panels of moody bishounen whose dark secrets remain locked away within their hearts? There are times when you can’t help but notice if you’re outside of the target audience, but it’s surprisingly easy to switch perspectives, and it rarely takes a conscious effort.

For example, Takanari might not be a relatable character, but I can see things through his eyes. The same goes for Haine’s pained dilemma over her wavering heart. The dialogue between them feels real, and the romance comes to life from a third-person perspective. Even if I can’t share the bittersweet daydream of having to choose between two handsome bishounen from an affluent family, I can sympathize with their love triangle. It’s not just sympathy, either; love’s bittersweet pain is visible in all of the characters, and it feels real. The only difference is that there’s no self-insert. Actually, the female-targeted clich�s don’t bother me at all because I have no obligation, or desire, to look for anything in the story other than the story itself. The generic bishounen, the indecisive yet kindhearted heroine; I can take them at face value because I don’t need to pretend that the story is realistic. If anything, the archetypes are less jarring than they would be in a typical visual novel because I’m less sensitive to them.

It’s also interesting that some character archetypes work in reverse. I’ve come to enjoy oranyan (male tsundere) characters like Takuto from Full Moon o Sagashite and Kyo from Fruits Basket more than I expected. Presumably, both of these characters are appealing to the female audience for the same reason that tsundere characters are appealing to the male audience, but what makes this stereotypical embarrassment work both ways? Oranyan characters are actually relatable in a strange way. Sometimes Takuto would blush at a panel that I would have blushed at; sometimes Kyo’s stubborn resistance to Tohru’s feelings make him seem more real rather than artificial and targeted. Again, since the characters have no obligation to act as hasubando material or otherwise idealistic boys, the clich�s help more than they hurt. Even to me, stubborn embarrassment and male pride induce kyaa’s, not facepalms.

It also helps that, in some cases, the female protagonists are quite attractive on their own. This mostly applies to Tanemura’s work, and that’s mostly because I love her art, but it can be applied to anything. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve noted to myself that Haine and Mitsuki are incredibly cute. Better yet, the allure of shoujo protagonists is different from the male-targeted bishoujo style – it feels more innocent and less artificial because it’s, for the most part, unintentional. Instead of self-inserting into the story, girls like Haine simply make me want to see a suitable bishounen take her away in the most dramatic, heart-pounding fashion possible.

And they claim this stuff is made for girls?

This theory came to mind a few months ago while reading Shinshi Doumei Cross, but the central point of it is something that I realized years ago during Fruits Basket – the internal narration of the protagonist is what makes the stories as real as they feel.

Despite the difference in gender, the dilemmas of most shoujo protagonists are often relatable. Love is gender-neutral, after all – the basic emotion is always the same. In fact, the concept of a 15 year old girl pining for her distant love is not all too different from the “pure love” ideal reflected in many bishoujo games. Yuuichi doesn’t reveal much of his personal feelings in Kanon, but the ideal is there. Story-centric bishoujo games rarely talk about dating or sex, even when the game revolves around the girls rather than an overarching plot – the entire relationship revolves around a pure, almost childlike ideal of romance. For those who played Key’s visual novels, the ero-scenes are incidental, and there’s noticeably little description of, shall we say, the “important” parts. If the scenes feel pivotal, it’s because they act as a consummation, which is technically what they should be to begin with.

What I mean to say is that the fantasy-fulfilling ideal of love and romance is present in both shoujo and bishoujo, so it’s only natural that they both strike the same chord in the hearts of fans. Amusingly, shoujo often does a better job of involving the viewer in the story because female protagonists targeted at a female audience naturally lend themselves to cheesy lines and melodramatic narration. This style of writing and storytelling fails miserably on those who aren’t spellbound, but for those who are, it’s the icing on the cake. Shoujo has a way of reaching the heart and spilling its contents all over the pages. That’s why I love it as a genre, and that’s why a 14 year old girl can be a more effective protagonist than the most relatable harem lead, even for a male viewer.

Idealistic teenage romance in fiction, what would I do without you?

As I said in the beginning, the main question for male shoujo fans is this: putting the plot aside, how can you relate to a female-targeted love story from a personal perspective? I admit that the synchronization with the protagonist is not always flawless, but there are some interesting switches in perspective that occur unintentionally. Male characters never act as the objects of affection that they’re meant to be, but they can be anything from a respectable peer to an idealized version of the self. Female characters are neither self-inserts nor waifu-material; they’re like the shounen protagonist, the young, idealistic kid who we sympathize with and root for because we see ourselves in them.

Of course, you could say that a good story would be appealing regardless of gender, but I’m talking about something slightly deeper than that. Romance fiction is all about reaching the heart – it’s something that has to affect you emotionally, not intellectually. In my currently limited ventures through the heartwarming world of shoujo manga, I’ve learned that I can find idealism and fantasy-fulfillment in a world of handsome bishounen with stubborn hearts – and above all, I’ve come to realize that shoujo and bishoujo aren’t as different as they look.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

A Journey Through Gensokyo, Part Two: Style and Beauty of Eastern Wonderland

ETERNAL — Sat, 22 May 2010 21:17:14 GMT

[sayori]

If you’ve played any Touhou games other than the 2D fighters, you probably know that ZUN isn’t the world’s best artist. However, as most Touhou fanartists have realized, beneath the technically flawed character portraits lies a wealth of creative, memorable, if not gimmicky character designs. I’m sure we can all think of one character off the top of our heads whose design stands out from the rest, a character who would instantly catch our eye while scrolling through the picture collection. Every game has one of them; frankly, every game has lots of them.

One aspect of ZUN’s character designs that I find interesting is the fact that they occasionally tie into the story and the character’s personality. Sometimes this takes the form of a visual motif; a distinguishing trait, be it an article of clothing or a story-related magical power, that’s always capitalized upon in fanart, and sometimes even in-game. Amazingly, the danmaku that the player struggles to dodge can be more than just a mess of shape and colour! Be it through clothing or hair colour or magical vampire wings and frog-eyed hats, here are a few characters whose designs are slightly more than meets the eye.

(Since all fanartists portray characters slightly differently, it might help to click on the links in the characters’ names to see their official art on Touhou Wiki)

[azuma syoujuan]

Yuyuko Saigyouji, the ghost princess. Being one of the main characters of the strangely popular Perfect Cherry Blossom, Yuyuko is probably one of the most recognizable bosses in the series. She’s also one of the most memorable.

There are two words that come to mind when I see Yuyuko: “Japan” and “Pink”. Clearly, her character design is very Japanese, complete with the kimono and hitaikakushi. There are some frills here and there and a pair of ribbons on her shoes, but it’s probably not enough to qualify as wa-loli. For the most part, she keeps with the general “eastern” theme of Touhou’s shrine maidens and moon princesses.

Yuyuko is also very pink. Considering her role in the story, it’s natural that the cherry blossoms would be her main motif, enforcing the Japanese aura surrounding her. Most fanart portrays her with either cherry blossoms or butterflies, matching with her hair colour and complementing her light blue clothing. You can even see these colours in some of her spellcards, although the background takes a darker purple tone to make the battle feel more tense. A Japanese-style fan also floats behind her during some of her non-spellcard attacks, much like the one that she’s occasionally portrayed with in fan works.

Incidentally, the white, wispy butterflies drawn in some fanart are likely a reference to this spellcard, although I don’t believe they have much to do with her otherwise.

[yukitarou/yuuki tatsuya]

Fujiwara no Mokou is supposed to be a human, but you wouldn’t think so if you fought her in Imperishable Night’s Extra stage. Thanks to her immortality in Touhou canon and her ability to control fire, Mokou feels more like a phoenix than anything else.

Despite the fact that her story describes her only as an immortal human with power over fire, Mokou has taken on a unique role in fanon. Indeed, much of her fanart portrays her with her element of choice, but it also portrays her as a bit of a tomboy – or in some cases, a flat-out manly shounen protagonist. It’s hard to imagine what pants and suspenders can do to a 2D girl’s image! Of course, she plays the role of Kaguya’s enemy in the story, and being a powerful opponent, it’s natural that fans see her as more cool than cute. Perhaps that’s why it’s so fun to draw her as a tsundere.

In the game, ZUN maintains Mokou’s “cool” image, enforced with the burning hot passion of her 1300-year life. Most of her spellcards are red in some way, contrasting with the deep blue background, and many of them make use of her fire motif. The phoenix symbol appears in the background in a handful of patterns, so it isn’t a fanon invention.

Finally, note that Mokou doesn’t appear to be very feminine to begin with. Aside from the obligatory hair ribbon, she possesses none of ZUN’s signature silly hats and frilly dresses. It’s a wise character design decision because she looks more or less like she acts.

[scarlet]

Last but not least is Koishi Komeiji, Hartmann’s beloved youkai girl. (Worst pairing ever or worst pairing ever?)

Much the opposite of her older sister, Koishi is an energetic youkai who has a bit too much fun with her ability to manipulate the subconscious. Her Third Eye is symbolic of her special ability, possibly a reference to the mythological background, and it’s literally woven into her character design in the most creative way. Just like Satori, Koishi’s eye is like a long, winding ribbon that circles her body; I wouldn’t be surprised if it took a few playthroughs for everyone to figure out just what the thing is. For something so unusual, it looks perfectly natural on her.

The most important aspect of Koishi’s character design is her heart motif. The hearts are likely a reference to her ability to read the “hearts” of others, considering that they can also be seen on Satori’s character portrait, but they only play a role in Koishi’s spellcards. From a stylistic point of view, they do a good job of reminding the player that they’re up against one of ZUN’s signature playful loli characters with more bullet patterns than can ever be healthy. A couple of her attacks make use of the hearts in a manner that would feel comical if they weren’t filling the screen with impending doom. The hearts are also woven into her portrait – take a look at her shoes and the shape of the Third Eye’s cord near her shoulder.

Lastly, Koishi is adorned with all of the necessary light, effeminate clothing and gimmicky hats to make her popular with the male fans – and, frankly, to make her a solid target for doujins. Koishi looks just as cute and cuddly as her sister, but her difference in personality speaks through her beaming smile.

- – -

As you can see, there’s a bit more to the Touhou characters than meets the eye. Even in terms of pure visuals, some of the characters have obscure references and motifs in their attire that hint at their personalities and their role in the story. Of course, many of the characters are simply drawn to look good, but there are some unquestionable trends in fanart that led me to some important realizations about the original designs.

Having said that, ZUN will never be the greatest artist in terms of technical details – all of his talent appears to have gone toward music. However, his creativity is astounding, and you’d be surprised to see how well thought out your favourite characters’ designs might be. The next time you look for fanart or challenge a boss to a battle of danmaku, stop and think about what your eyes are seeing – you never know what clever secrets you might uncover.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

Meta Notes: Making the Anime Investment

ETERNAL — Wed, 19 May 2010 03:59:24 GMT

[skade]

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? It’s funny how the strangest things can cause bloggers to appear and disappear. For many writers, the pressures of work and school build up and eventually lead to a hiatus – for others, the worst case scenario of actually having a social life proves to be the finishing blow.

Of course, I haven’t suffered anything like a finishing blow. I simply took a little reprieve, much like last year. It’s a shame since the Aniblog Tourney is currently running, but it can’t be helped (thanks for voting for me by the way – and don’t forget, my second match is coming up!)

Anyway, something interesting occurred to me while I was not writing. The first is that it’s not very relieving to take a break from writing when you know you ought to be writing anyway, which makes me glad that I didn’t do it intentionally. The second, though, is a bit more important. After all, it’s not like I’m behind in Angel Beats because I have exams or real life tasks to take care of. I’m behind because I haven’t been able to separate myself from the very subculture that I’m writing about.

And that leads me to the point of this post: the hidden benefits of not blogging.

Let’s get the straightforward stuff out of the way first. My disclaimer is that this theory works primarily for editorial bloggers whose only draw is their style and content – without the ability to attract readers by providing information or entertainment, we have nothing to rely on but ourselves. The experience (and lack thereof) of the blogger is often visible in their posts.

With that out of the way, here are the basic facts of aniblogging: to be an anime blogger, one must consume anime, or any similar media. Then, one must process this media and write about it in some way, shape or form. In order to maintain a blog for a significant amount of time, the blogger must consistently consume and process media in this cycle, regardless of their other priorities.

Now, this cycle might be perfect if a person’s sole purpose within anime fandom is to increase their MAL stats and memorize the ANN database, but for many bloggers, this isn’t the case. After all, we refer to anime fandom as a subculture for a reason. There are countless activities that we can do within our fandom – finding new singers and doujin circles to listen to, reading doujinshi, browsing fanart, translating anime, playing anime-style video games, hanging out on the internet. The list goes on and on.

The problem is that most of these activities don’t generate posts.

To me, this is the greatest dilemma of anime blogging. Managing real life is easy – life can have its ups and downs, but at least for me, my life on the internet is rarely affected by my other responsibilities for anything more than a couple weeks at a time. The real challenge is in delving through the farthest depths of the subculture while emerging twice a week with enough material to write a post. It’s an interesting dilemma because both extremes are bad – you either abandon your productive activity in favour of sheer consumption, or you continue to produce without gaining any new information. It doesn’t even need to be said that activities like blogging aren’t only good for the community, but also for each individual writer, so they can’t be given up easily.

Anyway, after giving the issue some thought and drawing from my past experience, I’ve come up with a name for my personal theory: the anime investment.

Generally speaking, good blog posts require a wealth of knowledge. There’s a reason why the oldest, most knowledgeable, and most experienced anime bloggers attract more readers than your average amateur episodic reviewer. However, it’s easy to forget to question where this wealth of knowledge came from. Some spent years of their lives fansubbing and scanlating; some created influential websites and brainstormed new ideas for their community; some spent their high school years lurking on HongFire in search of new CG packs to put to their appropriate use.

The point is that there are an incredible amount of activities that anime fans can do to immerse themselves in the subculture, and even if those activities don’t bring any momentary rewards – and certainly no momentary blog posts – they increase the writer’s own knowledge and experience, aiding future writing endeavors. The opinions that we respect and the reviews that we nod along to don’t come from an endless stream of currently airing anime – they come from currently airing anime in addition to the full breadth of the culture, from AnimeSuki debate to /a/ chatter. There’s no shortcut to experience.

That’s why I believe in making the anime investment: it can make a mess of things in the short-term, but every investment pays off eventually. Danbooru sessions can lead to a fanart post; fighting games can lead to social matches that bring you closer to your friends and peers. No matter how tangential and unrelated they may seem, every experience that the subculture has to offer will contribute to your growth as a fan in some way, even if it’s invisible – and it’s that growth that will encourage your readers to spend 1000 words of their lives listening to what you have to say.

- – -

As the title of the post implies, this is a meta post – in other words, it’s a long and pointless repetition of previously established facts that serves as a bad alternative to contributing with real content. That said, I still believe that some bloggers would benefit from making the anime investment. A high post frequency and a consistent 20+ comment count may look good to newcomers, but only experience can push your content forward and allow it to be the best that it can be – and we all know that blogging is about content.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

White Witch, Black Witch – The ‘Magic’ of Umineko no Naku Koro ni

ETERNAL — Sun, 02 May 2010 03:17:10 GMT

[ayko]

Ryukishi07’s Umineko no Naku Koro ni has been the talk of the internet for at least a year. With spoilers flying left right and center, there aren’t many anime fans who haven’t at least heard of Battler Ushiromiya’s series of chess games against the witch named Beatrice. I wrote about the first episode when I read it, but having finally completed and digested the first complete game, I think it’s time to revisit my old theories and provide a new assessment of what the story is about and where it’s headed. Brace yourselves; Rokkenjima does not follow the laws of the rest of the world.

(This post contains spoilers from episodes 1-4 of the visual novel)

[jiemaowanwan]

Two things come to mind when I hear the word “umineko” (amusingly, neither of them are “seagulls”). When I see fanart featuring Beatrice’s golden butterfly motif, when I hear dreamenddischarger and hope, I think of these two things: meta mystery and Maria Ushiromiya’s torn stuffed animal. I’m going to start with the former.

Umineko is very self-aware and it makes specific references to the murder mystery genre, but I no longer believe that its fantasy story propels its mystery elements. I believe the exact opposite. In a way, the mysteries of Umineko are like the battles and power levels of Fate/stay night: they’re certainly there, and they’re relevant enough for the fans to debate and the writer to elaborate on, but they’re not the “point”. Fate’s fantasy combat is a tool to add that extra dramatic punch to the story’s conflicts; Umineko’s duels of logic expose the hidden faces of Rokkenjima and provide opportunities for character interaction. Swords and magic are always fun; so are closed rooms and suspicious butlers. Why not use one of them as a setting for a story?

“Setting” might not be the correct word, but in essence, the mystery elements of Umineko provide context for the story, not the other way around. It took some time for me to wrap my mind around this concept, but it worked wonders once I did. After all, Umineko is not a flawless series – Ryukishi07 can be confusing, and his logic is often hit-or-miss, relying on abstract theories rather than practical evidence. It would take a couple of years of math or logic classes to figure out if the Devil’s Proof and Hempel’s Raven are being used properly and not being abused out of context, but since I’m not the most math-literate blogger in the ’sphere, I’ll leave my opinion out of it.

Regardless, it’s a fact that Umineko relies on a lot of in-universe fantasy elements like the Red Truth to analyze its mysteries, often throwing off the reader in the process. When you add that to the fact that Beatrice can choose whether to admit defeat even if Battler is wrong and that it’s proven that the characters bear witness to magic during the story, even if there’s an alternate explanation, it’s hard to call it a murder mystery. Mystery requires a set of constant, absolute values to work, and nothing on Rokkenjima is absolute. Umineko doesn’t have a problem with retcon, but the facts are so firmly routed in fantasy rather than reality that countless fan theories can be wiped away at the writer’s whim.

This is why I view Battler’s duels against Beatrice as the combat in a fantasy visual novel rather than the logical deduction of a murder mystery protagonist. As a mystery, Umineko is still exciting, but it’s too whimsical and over-the-top to be effective. Instead, by using the murder mystery setting as a base, the characters’ relationships and conflicts are explored, shedding light on the true nature of magic – and by the end of episode 4, there’s no denying that there’s more to the story than the mystery of the murders.

[tena]

The topic of magic isn’t truly explored in Umineko until it’s taken out of the context of Rokkenjima and seen in the outside world – specifically, in the lives of Maria and Ange. Both girls learn an unusual type of “white magic” that helps them deal with the stress and pain of their daily lives, like the psychological hallucinations of an abused child. This contrasts with the “black magic” that’s introduced earlier on: Kinzo’s sacrificial ritual, the “witch” that possesses Rosa as she hits her daughter, the evil side of Eva’s sub-conscience. Maria’s and Ange’s experiences in Mariage Sorciere are the polar opposite of the careless Endless Magic that Beatrice and Beatrice Eva are shown to use. In the end, Ange’s battle against Kasumi and Beatrice Eva prove that her magic is indeed different from Beato’s magic.

Interestingly, the true nature of “white magic” is first mentioned at the beginning of the first game: philosophers throughout history have had different views on the elements that make up the world, but the one true unifying element is “love”. The element of love is a part of the Umineko mythos, and its power is literally shown in the barriers that protect some of the characters from magic, the power that George and Jessica fight with in episode 4, and finally in Ange’s battle against Eva. It could be said that love also plays a role in black magic, but there isn’t enough evidence yet. What we do know is that while Beatrice may be the only witch on the island, magic is not limited only to her.

The use of magic by ordinary humans begs the crucial question: how much of the story is absolute truth and how much is diluted, twisted truth? Umineko lacks a distinct, first-person narrator to properly play the unreliable narrator card, but the third-person view may be selectively truthful, leaving all sorts of twists hidden until Beatrice chooses to reveal them. The relationship between white magic and the characters’ lives, like Maria’s spells that beg for her mother’s love, are too explicit to be ignored. However, it’s impossible to know where to draw the line. How much of Maria’s magic is real and how much is only an illusion? Is all of her magic real, acting as a physical symbol of her desires? How do we know where Beatrice’s influence ends and the girl’s own daydreams begin?

In reality, the identity of magic is the crux of Umineko’s plot, not the identity of Beatrice. The first half of the story ends in a dramatic flair, hammering the reader with at least one earth-shattering question, but the mysteries all skirt around the unifying question: what is magic? Battler has to continue to deny the concept of witches in order for the story to move forward, but even if the reader knows that – to some extent – magic is real, we don’t know what it is. Ryukishi07 has dropped some important points along the way, like the distinction between white and black magic and the use of “love” as the driving force behind magical power, but we still don’t know what magic is.

Meanwhile, the characters explore their own personal pains – the cruel politics of the Ushiromiya family, Ange’s isolation, Maria’s neglect – and in doing so, they shed light on the properties of magic and the role it plays in their lives. The story is tied to magic and vice versa – unlocking the secret behind one would cause the rest to fall into place. Therefore, as the plot thickens through the addition of new characters and factors that influence Battler’s duels of logic, the story also develops thematically. It’s interwoven in such a way that Battler cannot fight without the occurrence of a murder, and the murders always bring to light some distant truth or some memory of love or suffering that relates to that character’s experience with magic. Eva’s desire for revenge and domination separate from her body and become an entity of its own; Maria and Ange learn to use magic to bring happiness rather than destruction, in the face of a desolate future. I can’t even begin to guess how the truth behind Battler’s “sin” will relate to magic, but I’m confident that it’ll be even more significant than the parallels that we’ve already seen.

[vienri]

The most important aspect of Umineko to keep in mind is that Rokkenjima is an alternate universe. Just as it’s literally separated from the rest of the world due to the typhoon, it’s figuratively separated from the logic and laws that govern humanity. Until that logic returns with the cry of the seagulls, magic can exist, and witches can commit supernatural crimes. Utilizing this setting that blurs the line between fact and fiction, Ryukishi07 tells a story about that very concept: about the relationship between magic, a fantasy concept, and love, a human concept, and the role that fantasy plays in the very real and painful tragedies of the Ushiromiya family. Toss in a unique narrative structure that reveals information to the reader through alternate retellings of the same event, spice it up with some meta mystery and dramatic duels of abstract logic, and you get the story that has taken anime fandom by storm – and for good reason.

In the end, Umineko no Naku Koro ni still leaves us with many mysteries to be solved, and the core theme of the story remains ultimately indecipherable. However, with half of the story complete, the threads are starting to come together. The intricate character interactions, the long flashbacks, the romance, the painful backstories behind each family – all of these essential elements are tied together by the plot’s main question. Are murder and courage the result of magic and witches or love and hatred? Or are they two ways of saying the same thing?

But, as always, only one man in the world knows the truth – and we won’t hear that truth until the seagulls cry.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

The World God Only Knows and the Art of Love

ETERNAL — Mon, 26 Apr 2010 03:30:33 GMT

Love is War, as they say. Fighting on the battlefield of love requires not only the guts and courage of a shounen hero, but also the level-headed tactical prowess of a military commander. Keima Katsuragi is one such warrior who, having distanced himself from the frailty of human emotion, fights with his life on the line against impossible odds. Armed only with his wit and intellect, he stands proudly as a one-man army against thousands of escaped spirits from Hell who hide within human hosts and absorb their energy. His dramatic tale of love and loss is one that has won the hearts of countless fans, including my own. It comes as no surprise that he will one day become the protagonist of his own anime series.

…In other words, The World God Only Knows is a solid manga. If you’ve read the summary, you already know that the series’ defining point is its cultural awareness. Yes, TWGOK is meta, and it requires the reader to have some experience and interest in galge and its surrounding subculture. Meta is hit-and-miss with a lot of anime fans – the topic has come up several times before with shows like Lucky Star and Seitokai no Ichizon, always resulting in strong opinions on both sides. I had my say about the latter, but I think we’ve all settled on our view of meta by now, and I don’t think Keima’s battle of wits will change those opinions.

Having said that, I don’t particularly think that The World God Only Knows is about meta. Certainly, it demands that you care about the subculture, but its real strength is its action. In true shounen fashion, its “battles” are some of the biggest highlights of the series, and since it has no plot to worry about, its characters can fight without wasting time to search for excuses.

Yes, that’s right: my favourite aspect of a manga about a 2D-con galgamer who uses his tactics learned from dating sims to win girls’ hearts in real life is not its satirical content, but its wit-driven battles.

Let’s play spot-the-archetype!
[source]

Let me put it this way: The World God Only Knows is like a Death Note parody. It’s a battle of wits that takes itself 100% seriously 99% of the time, pausing for comic relief only as frequently as any other shounen would. You would think that someone would break down laughing when Keima explains his analysis of a girl’s character traits, identifies her archetype, and plans a method to reach her ending; you would expect his strategies to fail miserably, for him to end up stuttering and miscalculating and running home in shame to play his galge.

You would think that would happen, but it doesn’t, because Keima Katsuragi is not a harem lead, he’s a shounen lead.

Like any shounen lead, he boasts ridiculous abilities – he can play six visual novels at once, he can swim while playing his PSP. He has an infinite supply of money to support weekly gaming store raids and he manages to score perfectly on his tests without ever paying attention in class. To top it all off, he’s a Penny Arcade-level internet star who has influenced the industry with his legacy of being the Capturing God.

Likewise, Keima demonstrates his implausible abilities in real combat without anyone stopping to question his skill. Having distanced himself from reality to the point that 3D girls have virtually no effect on him, he can pull off lines and strategies that even trained bishounen would struggle with. He can multitask – one day he’s the cool, mysterious senpai, and the next day he’s the persistent admirer. He can even be the damsel in distress (I kid you not – I won’t spoil it, but he succeeds in accomplishing something that every bishoujo fan secretly wants to accomplish).

Keima’s ability to cook up battle plans is thoroughly exciting, and his tactics are logically consistent with what eroge fans already know from the real world. His words of wisdom are amusing to say the least, but they ring true. His reasoning is just like ours – he’s like a real human placed inside of a game world, infused with the perfect amount of clever planning and flawless acting to allow him to become the greatest harem lead of all time. He dominates the battlefield like an imbalanced character in a fighting game. And yet, he isn’t perfect – he has to stay on his toes to win, and his plans have to change to adapt to all sorts of unexpected circumstances.�Really, this picture sums it up perfectly. Forget the meta, forget the references – I’m not joking about wanting to see how Keima will capture the inevitable sickly Key heroine and the Nagato-esque silent type.

[kantoku]

It’s incorrect to say that I like The World God Only Knows for its plot because the little plot that’s there is only used to propel the characters forward. However, just like a good battle manga, the duels that Keima holds against each of the girls are exhilarating. You smirk at the familiarity of his plans, realizing that his analysis is hilariously accurate, but you wind up gaping in awe as he pulls off the dramatic finishing move and releases the spirit with a kiss. It’s impossible to not be at the edge of your seat when he adjusts his glasses, claiming that he can already see the ending. The premise is novel enough to catch your attention, but you don’t realize how good the series is until you find yourself anxiously clicking through the pages to see if Keima triggered enough events to reach the conclusion.

The World God Only Knows isn’t being serialized in the kind of mags that bishoujo manga usually turn up in – it’s actually in Weely Shounen Sunday, an old-school mainstream publication that can boast involvement with Osamu Tezuka. I think this says something about the heart of the series’ appeal. It’s a battle-of-wits shounen for bishoujo fans, something that can balance perfectly between amusing meta and duels that are epic in every sense of the word. It might be more than a little targeted, but you’ll have to search hard to find another series that utilizes its cultural awareness in such a jaw-droppingly exhilarating way.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

Crying Your True Tears

ETERNAL — Thu, 15 Apr 2010 01:40:29 GMT

In a word, True Tears is spectacular. It’s a well-crafted love story that doesn’t succumb to the common failings of its kind. Be it visual novel or shoujo manga adaptation, romance anime are often hit-or-miss, falling apart at the lack of realism or the unnecessary angst or the uninspired telling of a straightforward plot. It’s rare to find a story that, despite being fairly ordinary, hits every note with such eloquent accuracy. Rather than being a tear-jerker or a personal favourite for various subjective reasons, this is one of the first shows on my favourites list to earn its spot based on sheer competence.

Most bloggers have already written about True Tears and most fans have already settled into their opinions of it, but my second viewing gave me the insight I needed to understand why the show received the praise that it did. This is my attempt at examining the anime that made me remember that, from the viewer’s perspective, there is such thing as the perfect story.

Part 1: Exposition

Inside of me, you’ve always been crying. ‘I want to wipe away your tears’ is what I think, but I do not know what your soft, warm face will look like after the tears are wiped away.

True Tears sets its stage by cramming a lot of relevant information into a very small amount of screentime. The first line of the show reveals something important about the protagonist: he’s in love. Ironically, this bit of information isn’t as obvious as it should be since there are more than a few protagonists of self-proclaimed love stories who show very little emotional attachment until the plot demands it. The very first thing we learn about Shinichiro is that he’s dreaming about a girl that he’s too afraid to reach out to.

The emotional tension between Shinichiro and Hiromi is hinted at in a lot of ways, much less subtly as the series goes on. Even the seemingly generic fanservice scene in episode 1 unfolds differently than you’d expect it to, concluding with genuine embarrassment on Shinichiro’s part and an unreadable expression on Hiromi’s. The scene does more to reveal the tension in their pseudo brother-sister relationship than to reveal Hiromi’s striped panties, although it does both quite well.

Since most of the series is shot from Shinichiro’s perspective, he’s the first character whose heart becomes visible to the audience. He watches Hiromi from afar (sometimes literally); he mulls over the bathroom incident in private, wondering why she never opened herself up to his family, but he distracts himself by building a chicken-shaped tissue box while thinking about Noe. He was already confused about his feelings for Hiromi, but he couldn’t help thinking about the eccentric girl with the chickens who said that he couldn’t fly.

Shinichiro unwittingly finds himself at the center of the love triangle, but his character is believable. His hesitation isn’t the result of poor writing or awkward pacing – it’s the result of his own reasonable feelings as victim of a complicated web of emotions.

Since then, I’ve been unable to cry. Grandma took my tears with her.

The line above is from episode 4, but Noe’s memorable statement that she “lost her tears” at the end of the first episode is probably the most well-recognized quote in the show. That said, most of her character revolves around her own thematic motif, the two chickens – the tears are only there to tie her in with the rest of the cast.

Noe’s eccentricity is established as early as possible. As if her encounter with Shinichiro weren’t unusual enough, there are some visual hints of her unique character in the random shots of her rather memorable boots and her even more unusual song about the cockroach. It takes about a minute to identify her as a strange person.

Unlike Shinichiro’s see-through attempt at hiding his feelings for Hiromi, Noe is a bit more difficult to understand if you’re watching the show for the first time. Her story revolves around the chicken motif: Raigomaru, the chicken that wanted to fly, and Jibeta, the chicken that couldn’t fly. When Raigomaru died, Noe’s attachment to it shifted to Shinichiro, as symbolized by the chicken seeds that she repeatedly sends him. Shinichiro became Raigomaru’s replacement. Amusingly, she really does treat him like a chicken during the early episodes, and like a child, she doesn’t realize that she’s slowly starting to fall for him.

Do you hate snow? I once liked it, but now I hate it.

Hiromi’s character is a bit easier to understand in retrospect because the viewer doesn’t have to wade through her mixed signals. Indeed, I can see why her actions would seem ambiguous if you don’t know what you’re looking for, but it’s interesting to see how many minor hints are dropped early on. The most dramatic one I can think of occurs at the end of episode 3 when Shinichiro overhears her lying to her friend about being interested in Noe’s brother, Jun. It’s a cruel display of dramatic irony because the viewer already knows that Shinichiro and Hiromi are concealing their feelings from one another, but a simple misunderstanding leads both of them off into a downward spiral of denial.

I can’t remember my first viewing of the show clearly enough to specify the moment that the viewer should realize that Hiromi liked Shinichiro all along, but her most revelatory scene is probably the one in episode 5, when Shinichiro enters her room for the first time. The conversation is first shown from his perspective, focusing on his confusion as he’s pushed away for no apparent reason, but the scene is repeated later from Hiromi’s perspective, adding her internal narration above the dialogue. As her narration explains, her only reason for pushing him away was because he was more caught up in her false interest in Jun that in the fact that he had entered her room for the first time.

Once this moment passes, there’s no denying that Hiromi wants Shinichiro to wipe her tears, but he’s left to assume that she’s pushing him away. Only the viewer understands this cruel irony.

Part 2: Development

[HappyGoLucky]

The major transition in True Tears occurs as Shinichiro gets over his perceived rejection by Hiromi and realizes his feelings for Noe. I didn’t write “feelings” in quotations because I don’t think that he was mistaken – since the beginning of the series, his actions reveal that Noe’s eccentricity had always been on his mind, and she acts as an escape for his problems with Hiromi. His feelings for her are displaced, to some degree, but the ending proves that they aren’t false.

Noe’s effect on his subconscious mind is revealed as early as the first episode, but the scene that stands out the most in my eyes is from his picture book in episode 3. He begins drawing while thinking about Hiromi, but as the symbolic snow begins to fall, it turns into Raigomaru’s red chicken feed. It almost literally shows Noe intruding on his daydream world with him and Hiromi.

Although Noe made her impact near the beginning of the show, Shinichiro’s heart didn’t start to waver until he believed that Hiromi was out of his grasp. At the beginning of episode 4, after she talks to him about her “feelings” for Jun, his personal dream world reveals that the Hiromi he once knew is dying. The Hiromi in reality is not the Hiromi who was “always smiling like a flower,” the one that he thought he knew. His private world drifted even further apart from reality. Later in that episode, Noe is visualized as an angel in his mind, standing in a snow-filled world without any sign of Hiromi’s tears.

Of course, the final blow is Hiromi’s infamous confession in episode 6. The half-way point of the series ends with the revelation that Hiromi and Shinichiro are siblings, and the final scene with Shinichiro’s belt around Noe’s waist hints at her upcoming role.

[moso]

As per the laws of romance fiction, there is no such thing as the perfect couple until the last half of the last episode. Noe brings the breeze of change to the story as Shinichiro (and Raigomaru) prepare themselves to fly into the sky, with Reflectia playing gloriously in the background. Unfortunately, it’s only a matter of time before the illusion shatters and Noe realizes that the person in Shinichiro’s heart is Yuasa Hiromi.

From here on out, there are many scenes that illustrate the chaos in the main characters’ hearts – Shinichiro’s decision to make Raigomaru the cowardly chicken who was too afraid to fly, Noe’s pitiful attempt at finding the physical record of her relationship with Shinichiro buried under the pile of snow. There’s more evidence than I can ever link to, and it’s all put together masterfully, so I’ll move on to the most important part – the conclusion.

Part 3: Conclusion

Shinichiro, you can fly. You just don’t know it yourself. But… this isn’t the place where you take flight.

Noe’s breakup with Shinichiro is the first step toward revealing the truth behind the chicken motif. As stated in episode 11, Noe wanted to “fly away” from her problems in life. Just like chickens, however, humans are bound to the ground.

I believe that all of Noe’s mentions of Raigomaru and his desire to fly are simply her own way of describing happiness. Flying means accomplishing the impossible and escaping from sorrow; remaining on the ground means the opposite. When Raigomaru died and Noe became attached to Shinichiro, she began to believe that he could fly, and told him to keep looking at the sky. When she broke up with him after realizing that he still loved Hiromi, she said that he could find happiness and escape sorrow, but not with her. The heartbroken Noe at the end of episode 11 is just like Jibeta: a chicken who can never fly. She tried to fly eventually, but as Jibeta proved, it could never work.

Meanwhile, the other half of the chicken motif is developed when Shinichiro laments his own hesitation and indecisiveness. “Raigomaru was just a regular bird in the crowd of cowardly chickens,” as he said. Noe played the role of Jibeta, stuck to the ground, and Shinichiro became a version of Raigomaru that was too afraid to fly.

In the end, the final page of the book is scrapped as Shinichiro confronts Noe one last time. Raigomaru gets to rewrite his own conclusion. When Noe realizes that Shinichiro believes that she can fly too, they both end their short-lived romance in one of the most heart-rending scenes in the show.

Minutes later, Shinichiro leaps off of the cliff and flaps his wings. He flies triumphantly.

People can really obtain tears from those most important to them. If you think about the people most important to you, the tears will flood out.

With the chickens out of the way, only one question remains: what are “true” tears? The only explicit hint in the show is in Noe’s backstory. She was introduced as the girl who couldn’t cry. When her grandmother died and she lost her ability to feel sadness, she had to collect the tears of someone important to her in order to reclaim her own tears. Only those “true” tears could help her regain the right to cry.

In other words, she had to learn the true meaning behind tears: that tears are only meaningful when they genuinely reflect the feelings in one’s heart.

Hiromi is the first to cry her true tears. She spends much of the story lying to herself about her feelings and avoiding her conflict with Shinichiro’s mother. Her decision in the second-last episode to proudly proclaim her love for Shinichiro and tell Noe to back down is her final act in the play – with that, she overcomes her fear and places her faith in Shinichiro.

Shinichiro is the next character to shed his true tears when he says goodbye to Noe in the last episode. His tears are bittersweet because he’s simultaneously announcing the beginning of his relationship with Hiromi and the end of his love for Noe.

Noe is the last character to receive any kind of closure, waiting until the credits to shed her tears. She looks at Jibeta, the chicken who chose not to fly; she turns to the physical remainder of her relationship with Shinichiro; and with her head held high, she cries her true tears.

In reality, the true tears play a similar role to Raigomaru’s flight. When each of the main characters sheds their true tears, they break free of whatever barriers were holding them back and offer their hearts to the person their tears are being shed for. It can be seen as a visual representation of love in that the tears are only shed when the character comes clean with themselves and expresses their feelings without holding back. Whether this means overcoming an obstacle, facing the truth, or finding closure, the tears mark the moment that the clouds part and the character accepts all of their joy and misfortune.

Win or lose, true tears can only be found when the person breaks free of their tangled web of feelings and lays their heart bare. Rather than focusing on the outcome, true tears – and True Tears – is about finding the strength to look oneself in the mirror and challenge love head on.

- – -

[よしづねなお]

At the beginning of this post, I said that True Tears impressed me objectively as well as subjectively. I linked to as many screencaps and specific references as I could, but there are countless examples of clever shots and effective writing scattered throughout the show. When you look for it, you can see that almost every scene, every expression, every line of dialogue is deliberate. The scenes mentioned in this post are only the ones that I found to be the most effective or moving – in reality, every minute of the series is about something, and the spectacular sense of pacing and development is what makes True Tears stand above the rest. The story is masterfully woven, the motifs are visible without being too explicit, and the characters are deep enough to warrant the viewers’ tears when they witness the cast’s true tears. There is no such thing as the perfect work of fiction, but to me, True Tears did everything right and nothing wrong.

If there’s one thing I know, it’s that the story of the girl who lost her tears and the love triangle that developed around her is one that I will never forget. Perhaps it’s time for me to cry my own tears since it might be years before another show balances� its story, atmosphere, and symbolism into such an evocative work of surreal, bittersweet romance.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

A Journey Through Gensokyo, Part One: Listen to my Song!

ETERNAL — Mon, 05 Apr 2010 17:51:53 GMT

[kibushi]

Touhou fandom is a vast, vast entity. A while ago I jotted down some tips for beginners who fear the difficulty of the game series, but as important as bullet dodging is, the franchise extends far beyond the gameplay. I’ve learned a lot about Touhou over the last few months, dedicating countless hours to filling up my doujin music library and saving new fanart. I spent some time on the ever-helpful wiki, too, trying to piece together some of the more obscure tidbits of storyline information.

As my travels through Gensokyo continued, I stumbled upon something quite interesting: Touhou sheet music. With a bit of help (thanks, Matthew), I was able to track down the sheet music of some of my favourite songs in the series. I’m no expert on music theory, but with a visual transcription of the songs to help me, I think I can dig up some interesting facts. Maybe you can to.

(I would have embedded the videos but Nico Nico doesn’t allow it. So it goes.)

- – -

神さびた古戦場　～ Suwa Foughten Field

- – -

First off we have 神さびた古戦場　～ Suwa Foughten Field, the battle theme of Kanako Yasaka, final boss of Mountain of Faith. The introduction works its magic by using the bass line to accent different notes in the melody, but it’s only a bit of foreshadowing of what’s to come.

For me, the most memorable part of the song starts at 0:13 and ends at 0:25. The rhythm couldn’t be more basic, but the intervals create a mysterious mood. Most, if not all of the intervals here are a full octave, meaning that there should be no harmony or dissonance if the notes were played simultaneously. Somehow, the quick octave jumps create a catchy and altogether alluring melody, as anyone who played the game can attest to.

Also note that the bass line helps keep the melody interesting� during this portion of the song. Rhythmically, I believe two of the six notes in the two-bar pattern fall on the offbeat, which contrasts with the melody in which the notes follow a steady rhythm. There is also probably something about the chords that create the sense of foreboding that accompanies the piece, but that’s beyond the limit of my knowledge.

At any rate, the atmosphere continues to darken into 0:36 through the use of the bass line’s rhythm. From 0:36-0:53 the melody leaves the spotlight, which is fitting since this is supposed to be background music. All I know about 3/4 time is its association with the waltz, but it seems to help move the song forward in this case. The rhythms become simple again (without the offbeat shots from earlier on), and there is little change in the section until it ends at 0:53. The melody moves in fairly simple intervals, either marching upward/downward or jumping a fifth, and the second and third beats are accented by the lower notes. Eventually, the left hand’s notes are replaced entirely with eighth notes to lead into the main melody.

From here, the song pretty much enters repeat mode, but ZUN uses some interesting tricks to keep it from feeling repetitive. For example, this repeat of the main melody (0:53-1:15) eliminates the strong rhythm of the bass and replaces is with moving eighth notes that match the right hand. I don’t think there is any intentional dissonance here: the song simply moves forward as the battle progresses. A little alternation of the melody starts at around 1:30, with mostly the same intervals in a different key signature. Again, the main melody is repeated at 2:15 with six flats in the key signature, making it sound noticeably darker, but it remains more or less the same. Being a piece of background music, it eventually loops around at the end.

- – -

霊知の太陽信仰　～ Nuclear Fusion

- – -

The next song is 霊知の太陽信仰　～ Nuclear Fusion, the theme of the last boss of Subterranean Animism. The most notable aspect of the song is the unusual rhythm of the melody. The basic tune is explicit enough that you could listen to it a couple of times and hum the melody accurately.

As with Kanako’s theme, this song creates an ominous introduction by accenting the eighth note pattern on the right hand with well-placed quarter notes and eighth notes in the bass. Unlike the previous song, the melody here accents itself. Instead of following a standard pattern of two or four eighth notes moving in the same direction, the eight notes move downward three at a time. This feels unnatural in 4/4 or 2/2 time, and it’s accented by the bass notes that match it.

Of course, the song doesn’t really begin until 0:26, when the distinctive melody strikes. Unlike many of ZUN’s songs, there are some noticeable rests in this piece, scattered throughout the first few bars of the section. The melody has some natural punches in it that fall on the offbeats, and the little sixteenth note flourishes are more a part of the tune and less a stylistic run. As opposed to drowning the player’s ears with steady eight note runs and eloquent intervals, this melody strikes the listener almost violently. It paints an image of a duel within the depths of hell, as opposed to, say, Yuyuko Saigyouji’s butterfly and cherry blossom motif.

There’s an attractive little interlude at 0:48 that stands out in this piano rendition. Incidentally, there’s a key change later in the song to add more variety (Eb major to Bb major), but it’s not as obvious as in the previous song since it’s only a difference of one flat.

- – -

U.N.オーエンは彼女なのか？

- – -

The last song I chose was the iconic U.N.オーエンは彼女なのか？, theme of Flandre Scarlet. Despite (or perhaps because of) the song’s catchiness, it’s actually quite straightforward. The entire introduction (up to 0:17) is about the sixteenth note downward runs followed by the three dotted eighth notes. For some reason, all of the notes in the runs are the same distance apart: 1-3-6. The tonic note (Db, same as the key signature) is followed by a third (mediant) and sixth (submediant). There is probably some secret meaning behind this that I don’t understand, but anyway, the result is a quick and exciting piano intro with a hint of evil reflected in the key signature. It suits Flandre’s character perfectly.

Interestingly, the main melody (0:30) is made up entirely of quarter and eighth notes, with no obvious intentional rhythmic or tonic changes. There are still almost no accidentals, and the tune happily repeats itself for about 20 seconds. There are a lot of powerful perfect fourths and fifths, but there’s almost nothing to comment on in terms of technical detail. The fact that the melody is as recognizable as it is makes me wonder how something so technically simple could be so appealing.

The next portion (0:55) makes good use of the triplet, one of my favourite rhythmic tools. The intervals here aren’t a cut-and-paste from the introduction, but they’re similar enough to invoke the same feeling. The key changes for this section before returning to the five flats as the song repeats itself.

- – -

Surprisingly, this fairly surface-deep analysis of only a few songs has given me quite a bit of insight into ZUN’s skills as a composer. The main point I found was that his songs rely entirely on the melody. All of the well-known final boss and extra boss themes have very distinctive tunes, and they’re catchy without being technically complex. As you can see, the songs still sound great when transcribed onto a single piano track, so he doesn’t rely on any sort of complex instrumental layering. Likewise, the rhythms aren’t overly detailed, and there aren’t any Broadway-style seemingly random key changes. This complements the fact that there are so many amateur remixes of his songs: much like his artwork, the basic concept is what makes ZUN’s music shine, allowing for countless re-interpretations using the same distinctive melody.

With this insight, I have to wonder where he gets his ideas for new music. Despite what I said about the lack of technical detail, every Touhou fan knows that ZUN’s music is incredible, and it works both as BGM and as stand-alone music. Above all, it just goes to show that the most aurally appealing piano runs and screaming synths might look incredibly simple when written out on paper, even if they’re heart-poundingly intense when you’re trying to capture Virtue of Wind God on Lunatic.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

P.S. My knowledge of music is limited to what my teacher decides to teach us at school, so feel free to point out any mistakes.

Plot and Pacing in Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

ETERNAL — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 01:38:09 GMT

There has always been something about the shounen genre that pushed me away from it. This is partly due to some complicated gateway experiences, but for the most part it’s thanks to the tradition itself. Quite frankly, action is not something that I would normally go for, and it would take a masterfully animated fight scene from Kara no Kyoukai for me to justify watching a show solely for the action.

While my problem with the genre is an issue of personal taste rather than an objective complaint, I’ve been consistently amazed by Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood over the past year. I’ve delayed shows like To Aru Kagaku no Railgun and Baka to Test to Shoukanjuu to make room for FMA – a series that, theoretically, shouldn’t appeal to me in the first place. After almost 50 episodes of pondering, it occurred to me that Brotherhood strikes the most important element of the shounen genre with perfect precision, and that there’s a good reason behind my ability to watch a shounen without any stylish swordfights.

The explanation of that last statement is as obvious as it gets: I can watch an action show without stylish swordfights because FMA isn’t an action show in the first place. Contrary to my first perception of shounen through the multi-episode battles of Naruto and Bleach, I don’t think the genre relies too heavily on combat to draw in its audience. After all, the technical aspects of shows like Brotherhood might be good, but they’re generally pretty vanilla. The stylistic choices in each mangaka’s character designs would vary, but most shounen adaptations are fairly straightforward. The BGM, direction, and animation serve their purpose without drawing attention to themselves. They get the job done without masquerading as high budget action flicks.

FMA is a clear example of this style because in terms of screen time, the fights are relatively short. They’re well-located in terms of story pacing and they rarely feel unnatural, but if you add up the time spent in combat for each episode, it won’t be enough for the average person to justify watching it just for the action. Seinen films and series’ like Ninja Scroll and Samurai Champloo focus on stylish, well-choreographed combat – FMA focuses on a different hook to capture its audience.

I did say that FMA isn’t particularly stylish, but this has to be one of the most memorable OPs I’ve ever seen.

To summarize it in a word, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood thrives on its plot. Note that I’m talking specifically about plot and not any sort of overarching theme. Like all good works of fiction, there are some parallels and motifs in the story that can potentially be tied together into a single, unifying theme, but I doubt that’s the point of the show. Every passing episode tells me that the shows greatest strength is its ability to make you want the next episode.

FMA overcomes one of the biggest problems in the shounen genre by making smooth transitions from arc to arc. When the characters teleport from one place to the next, and when the villain of one week becomes insignificant when placed side by side with the latest antagonist, nothing feels unnatural. Instead of asking myself what happened to the Elric brothers’ dramatic, personal struggle to atone for their sins and reclaim their bodies, I ask myself which Homunculi will transform next. Even when iconic characters like Roy Mustang leave the limelight, there’s not enough time to be disappointed. The show fires its latest plot twists at the viewer with enough ferocity to keep you from thinking twice, but without falling victim to the good old Code Geass trainwreck effect.

The amazing thing about FMA is that even when I lose sight of the underlying meaning – if there is one – I can’t help but end every episode while looking at the clock and asking myself if I have time for one more. Instead of being an action series for teenagers, Brotherhood feels more like the anime equivalent of the suspense novel: whatever plot holes and inconsistencies turn up are insignificant in the face of the excitement promised by the next chapter. Thankfully, the series hasn’t tangled itself in a web of poorly thought out plot twists yet – if anything, it’s proven that a myriad of characters and narrative threads can coexist in a single TV show while remaining relatively easy to follow.

In the past, I found it hard to appreciate shounen anime because they seemed to fail on two accounts: the story was too shallow to be taken seriously, and the action was either too sparse, repetitive, or littered with in-universe jargon and “power level” terminology for me to care. While this isn’t a problem for all shows in the genre, Brotherhood is making me realize that I was simply missing the point. I feel as though I can understand /a/’s Bleach hypothesis threads as an equivalent to /jp/’s Umineko ones. The thought of a hardcore sci-fi/seinen fan watching teenagers’ prime-time anime entertainment is no longer alien to me.

Above all, I know that this is the show that I’m most likely to watch when I should be going through the old Gundams or tossing together a new blog post.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

Self-Insertion in Sasameki Koto

ETERNAL — Fri, 26 Mar 2010 02:25:05 GMT

Sasameki Koto didn’t seem to attract much attention when it aired in the winter, although it ended up on my watchlist by virtue of being a new yuri show. It departs quite a bit from the “walking slowly is preferred here” image of Marimite and the subtlety of Aoi Hana, going so far as to set its characters in a coed school and making one of them allegedly not a lesbian. It’s hard to say where it would fit on BakaRaptor’s real lesbian/super lesbian scale, but it’s certainly more grounded in reality than many of its kind.

Ironically, my enjoyment of Sasameki Koto has almost nothing to do with its yuri tropes and clich�s. Instead, an interesting phenomenon occurred with regards to Sumika’s character: she began to feel less like the heroine and more like the male self-insert. I went into the show expecting a full serving of voyeuristic bliss derived from the idealized romances portrayed in shoujo-ai, but it wasn’t long before my experience changed from third-person to first-person.

(note that I’m referring to the definition of self-insert used within anime fandom – a generally bland character intended for the viewer to project themselves into – rather than the literary definition.)

When I took this screencap several months ago, I got the feeling that I would need it. It looks like I was right.

Sumika, the heroine of the show, is indeed a man at heart. I’m not familiar with the source material so I can’t comment on the target audience, but Sasameki Koto strikes me as a typical male-targeted shoujo-ai, even if only for Ushio and the trap. Whether or not this is true, the series has a heavy leaning toward lighthearted comedy with a tinge of fanservice, rather than the dense, often bittersweet atmosphere of the more dramatic yuri shows. It weaves a cruel, cruel web of feelings, but it’s so detached from the yuri tradition that it seems more like a good harem series without the male lead.

That was when it occurred to me: isn’t Sumika the male lead of Sasameki Koto? Not to say that she’s not effeminate or that it’s wrong to think of her as a girl, but she seems to play the role of the male in the story. I mean this in a more general way than the seme/uke roles – Sumi’s entire battle to win Ushio’s heart, from her feeble attempts at spending more time with her during the pool episode to her own internal thought processes, fit the role of the male lead perfectly. The best part about it is that she’s a girl, so she can exhibit emotions without breaking the Harem Lead creed. In fact, she doesn’t even need a harem!

[kazumi1904]

Looking at the character archetypes, Sumi works as the perfect self-insert on several levels. For one, there’s the fact that she’s self-conscious about her looks, mentioning several times that she’s not effeminate and that she’s not the kind of girl that Ushio would go for. Her insecurities should strike a chord with many of the viewers, otaku or not – even in shoujo, you’re more likely to see insecure protagonists than insecure bishounen. On top of that, she struggles through her romance in a very boyish way, fighting to win Ushio’s heart without wanting to step too far and risk losing their friendship. She’s easy to identify with in a lot of ways. Compared to the rest of the show’s female characters and most shounen romance male characters, Sumi probably has the most in common with the viewer.

In execution, too, the series seems to intentionally use Sumi as a self-insert. The later episodes have her explicitly trying to earn Ushio’s attention in typical boy-chases-girl fashion, but the fanservice and unrealistically convenient dialogue that normally accompanies such stories is replaced by her bittersweet commentary, sometimes in self-depreciating jest, that reminds us that she really is in love. There are far too many anime characters in romance shows who spend 13 episodes chasing the object of their affection, yet never act as though they really are in love. In this manner, Sumi is the good kind of self-insert: deep enough to be believable, yet ordinary enough to be relateable.

- – -

I enjoyed Sasameki Koto as a boy-chases-girl show, not as a girl-chases-girl one. Most romance anime with male protagonists end up being more about the girls and their deliciously heart-healing pandering rather than the boy and his romantic interests. Even the best harem leads and shounen romance protagonists rarely vocalize their feelings. In other words, so-called boy-chases-girl shows end up pandering to one gender or the other, either through flawless female characters and a dull male lead or through a shy shoujo protagonist and a typical “bad boy” bishounen. In either case, they sidestep the original intent of the premise. Likewise, nearly all male-targeted girl-chases-girl anime end up like Strawberry Panic (to varying degrees), and the female-targeted ones probably remain as vague as Marimite.

This is why Sasameki Koto works: with or without the lesbians, it provides an endearingly simple yet relateable love story without the trappings of tradition, fan pandering, and confining gender roles. It’s odd that this so-called phenomenon only occurred as a result of my viewing the female protagonist as a male self-insert, but the show deserves credit for doing something that is disappointingly rare in anime. I can only hope that more creators realize that self-inserts need not always be spoon-fed their desires in a pure, idealistic paradise.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

Giant Robo and the Human Robot

ETERNAL — Sun, 21 Mar 2010 03:00:22 GMT

Giant Robo is like a time machine, except you never know which direction it’ll take you in. Alternating between unusual predictions for the future and now humorously clich�d plot devices from the past, Imagawa Yasuhiro’s classic shows its age without detracting from its initial quality. For an old-school super robot show, Giant Robo actually packs quite a punch with its story, providing something to hold the viewer’s attention beyond the awe of Robo and its sheer power.

Among the many things that a person could say about the show, one particular element stood out in my mind: the treatment of Robo within the story. It leads to some interesting food for thought about the early days of the mecha genre; the days long before Gundam and Macross.

Though I have yet to see the other shows myself, I always hear that mecha anime in the late 70s and early 80s – particularly within the super robot subgenre – were based around toy sales. As they say (via PatzPrime), some of the most well-known mecha and shounen anime of all time were aimed at kids, and if the mecha industry relied on toy sales to make a profit, it’s only natural that many of the shows would have to focus on simple but exciting storylines and identifiable mechanical designs.

According to ANN, the source material for Giant Robo predates even the days of Voltes V and Mazinger Z. I believe the live-action series was also adapted from a manga written in the same period. I’m not sure how closely the anime follows the source, but regardless, Giant Robo’s heart is in a different world than the one we know today. The robots of Giant Robo are not tools of war or secret weapons. In fact, I’d hesitate to even call them machines. The BF Group’s mechs have almost no explanation behind them, aside from the fact that they look nice.

As for Robo himself? I’d sooner call him a superhero than a machine.

This train of thought struck me during this infamous scene, in which Robo appeared to be shedding tears. I had always found his mechanical design to be odd – seemingly real eyes, a facial expression, and something that looks vaguely like hair – but the more I thought about it, the more evidence I found. The most obvious sign is the fact that Robo cannot be piloted. He’s simply commanded through Daisaku’s watch, like a nobleman calling for his butler. Story-wise, too, Robo is treated more as a character than a machine. His wins and losses seem directly related to his relationship with his master, as if he were a teammate rather than a secret weapon like the Gundam. For all intents and purposes, you could say that Giant Robo is named after its protagonist.

Realistically, I don’t think that Robo is the protagonist of the story, but his portrayal as a superhero rather than a mech got me thinking about the mecha genre as a whole. Looking at it this way, Giant Robo feels like a prototype super robot show, to the point that it has more in common with the underlying themes of trust and courage in modern shounen than the dark “kill-’em-all Tomino” style of storytelling that I associate with mecha. Admittedly, I don’t have much of a timeline in my head to help with this theory, but Giant Robo is too much of a melodramatic, story-driven, action-packed show for me to compare it to either the real robot or super robot subgenres. In my mind, it exists somewhere in the distant history of super robot shows, when robots were just another version of superheroes to be idolized and adored; and when the grim portrayal of the robot as a war machine had yet to come about.

Having finally seen a bit of the iconic real robot franchises from the early 80s, Giant Robo made me realize that there is more to the history of mecha than meets the eye. It’s still too early for me to come to any conclusions aside from the ones stated above, but I welcome any information on this old-yet-new chapter in anime history.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

Anime and the Changing of the Seasons

ETERNAL — Sat, 13 Mar 2010 20:13:11 GMT

[zuta]

When you saw this post in your feed reader or Anime Nano or what have you, you probably assumed it was just another meta post on the upcoming season of anime. Perhaps I would ramble on about why it’s bad to drop shows after one episode; maybe I would say that it’s important to watch a multitude of shows, including ones that normally wouldn’t appeal to you.

Actually, the “seasons” mentioned in the post title refers to something completely different. I’m talking about nature.

Wait, don’t close the tab yet – I’m not here to preach. I enjoy my skyscrapers and carefully planned city parks as much as the next person, and probably more. However, I’ve always felt a strange connection with the use of nature in anime as a visual, stylistic tool. Nature can grant the most sublime motifs and emotionally evocative art if it’s used appropriately, and yet it’s something that can so easily go unnoticed.

For simplicity’s sake, I’ve decided to separate the general category of “nature” into the four seasons. The seasons hold much more power over a show’s art than you might think. For instance, what comes to mind when I mention Da Capo? Visual novels are a bit of a cheap shot since, for one reason or another, they usually have a distinct season that defines their mood, but there’s no doubt that nature can play a big role in a show’s image. Remember the beginning of Suzumiya Haruhi, characterized by Kyon’s upward trek on the hill toward his new school? His monologue about Santa Claus always brings to mind the excitement of a new school term under the cherry trees, and I think that irony might have been intentional.

Anyway, I don’t think there are any concrete rules about seasons and their implications on the work itself (thematically or aesthetically), but there are certainly some trends. I’ll outline the ones I’ve found below.

Spring

The first of the four seasons carries a very obvious meaning in Japan: new beginnings. The cherry blossoms fall, the snow melts, and the school year begins. As a result of the fact that many anime revolve around the school year, spring always carries an air of blissful excitement. Bias aside, I think the beginning of Honey and Clover is a good example of spring, although it only lasts for a few episodes. The shot of the flower falling next to Hagu’s hair as the camera pans across her body – the moment that Takemoto falls for her – is perfectly symbolic of all that spring stands for in anime. It’s a new beginning, and it’s too early for reality to come crashing down.

As far as “bliss” goes, spring works well in visual novels because it fits the ideal portrayal of the characters’ lives. Like I mentioned before, Da Capo’s eternal cherry trees are a literal representation of the story’s world of “eternal bliss”. The name refers to the same thing as well.

Incidentally, Fruits Basket uses spring to represent the end of winter, or the end of suffering. What do you get when snow melts, right? You get Spring. It can be either the light at the end of the tunnel or a joyous new beginning.

Summer

[yuuki tatsuya]

Amusingly, the first thing to come to mind at the mention of summer is the traditional beach episode in harem anime. Indeed, summer is a spectacular excuse for fanservice, but it can allude to much more than that in terms of aesthetics. The bright skies of summer are perfect for building energy and giving the characters all sorts of fun and exciting things to do. A perfect example of this is the summer home: every series has to have rich character with a vacation home on the beach, because every series has to have a trip to said home and the writers need an excuse to do it. K-On and Toradora are two recent popular examples. The former is perfectly pointless and altogether cheerful, while the latter carries some of the romantic undertones that work so well in the summer.

Interestingly, a summer day and a summer night can carry completely different meanings in fiction. The days are usually energetic and fun, but the nights are perfect for those dramatic starlit confessions. The two of you who played Wind -a breath of heart- should agree. Higurashi no Naku Koro ni also uses an interesting approach to summer because it takes the playful innocence of the season and contrasts it with the eerie, foreboding chirping of the cicadas that occurs at twilight. It’s masterfully done. The sight of Hinamizawa bathed in a blood-red sunset as the cicadas chirp in unison is one of my most vivid memories of the series.

Of course, there are some exceptions to every rule, and the first one that comes to mind is Air. I cannot for the life of me figure out what aspect of Air suits the summer season, but the visuals are tied to the story’s imagery of wings and flying so it doesn’t bother me.

Autumn

[kakisuke]

Autumn is wistful. I have always felt this way about reality, and the sight of red-yellow leaves and sharp, early sunsets always brings to mind that feeling in anime. Unfortunately, autumn doesn’t seem to be a popular season in anime, but a few examples come to mind. Key’s ONE ~to the radiant season~ feels much like Kanon, but something about it feels more subtle and wistful rather than mysterious and tragic. It’s hard to describe the difference using words, but the imagery of fall leaves vs winter snow illustrates the difference in tone and atmosphere more effectively than you might think.

Tsukihime also takes place in the fall, which I find to be quite interesting. The season doesn’t have much of an impact on the game’s visual style, but the song Lamplight is, at least to me, filled with the bittersweet nostalgia that defines autumn. There’s something in the mourning of the violin that makes that one track stand out. Whenever someone mentions Tsukihime, I usually hear that song and imagine Shiki walking home to his mansion, thinking about how he hasn’t seen Akiha in years. It’s hard to define in a sentence, but I’ve always sensed an air of wistfulness and hesitance around Shiki’s actions, and the soundtrack adds to that tremendously.

Winter

In terms of anime, winter is probably best known by the meme “sad girls in snow”. Needless to say, Kanon’s use of distant, childhood memories and its recurring imagery of snow-covered hills and a shopping center stained crimson by an early sunset are the very essence of winter in my eyes. Winter is not necessarily depressing, but it couldn’t be more different from the bliss of spring or the energy of summer. It carries some of autumn’s wistfulness, but something about it feels more magical, more mysterious.

Even when you exclude the surreal, dreamlike nature of some visual novels, winter is the perfect season for anything to do with romance. The snowy conclusion of Aoi Hana is still vivid in my memory, and the Christmas Eve date in The Gentleman’s Alliance Cross was particularly enjoyable. One of the most evocative uses of winter’s aesthetics I’ve ever seen is 5 Centimeters Per Second, both in the opening chapter and in the epilogue.

Christmas also plays an important role in the winter season, used for the visual appeal of the coloured lights and the psychological appeal of the festive season. Love Hina’s Christmas Special is said to be the best part of the anime, and perhaps the only good part. Interestingly, the beginning of ef – a tale of memories reverses the Christmas trope and instead uses it as a new beginning for Hiro and Miyako, much like the spring.

- – -

Finally, I’d like to point out that there are some patterns in certain creators’ works when it comes to the choice of season. The most obvious example is Key: Clannad is warm and more or less blissful; Air is a bit of an exception, but it ties the imagery of a bright summer sky with its own imagery of flying and “waiting in the air”; One is wistful in its portrayal of the protagonist’s empty world that he’s destined to return to; Kanon is imbued with the mystical, surreal charm of winter, and the sadness and dramatic romance fit nicely with the falling snow.

(Incidentally, the last episode of Seitokai no Ichizon explicitly explains how the four girls are based off of the four seasons)

You could probably do a similar examination with the Touhou characters since many of them have their own visual quirks (Yuyuko’s butterflies, Koishi’s hearts, the Aki sisters’ self-explanatory names). While most of these don’t deal with the four seasons, they have the same impact in the sense that they’re a visual style that can impact the viewer’s emotional reaction without impacting the story in the slightest.

In retrospect, that’s more or less what the seasons are all about in anime: they define a show’s setting and atmosphere unconsciously, and they provide a concrete image for the viewer to associate with a particular feeling or memory. Without the careful use of the spring season’s traits in the art direction of the early episodes of Honey and Clover, I would not have that memory of the beginning of Takemoto’s love; if the key animators and director for the Kanon OP were lazy, I would not associate Last Regrets with a surreal winter morning, hinting at a tragedy beneath a seemingly blissful existence.

Thanks to the creators, though, I do have those memories, and I can honestly say that they have increased my enjoyment as a viewer. It’s natural to not want to stop and smell the roses – or in this case, pause and screencap the backgrounds – but it’s incredible to see how a subjective feeling of a theme or story can be visualized into a tangible sight by a good artist.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

Victorian Slice-of-Life Shirley

ETERNAL — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 01:50:05 GMT

[shima]

Kaoru Mori should be a familiar name among manga fans, known for her unorthodox – or is it completely orthodox? – depiction of the life of a maid. The TV series for the Emma manga aired a few years ago, which happens to be her most famous story, but I opted into buying the one volume Shirley since it seemed like less of a commitment.

Indeed, Shirley isn’t much of a commitment at all: it took me all of an hour to finish the book, cover to cover. It’s a fairly simplistic story about a thirteen year old maid in Victorian England, doing what normal maids do. Shirley is a maid, not a meido, if you know what I mean. Of course, being a manga character, she also possesses enough youthful charm to not bore you to death with 150 pages on the art of housework. You could say that Shirley has as much to do with housework as it has to do with otaku pandering.

Anyway, Shirley’s story might not be particularly memorable, but it makes for a pleasant afternoon read – preferably with a serving of crumpets and tea.

It might be fair to define Shirley as iyashi-kei, but it doesn’t seem to succumb the lack of plot that pushes me away from the rest of the subgenre. Perhaps that’s simply because it’s so short. There isn’t much to get bored of in the story, and there isn’t much to get excited over. I don’t want to argue the semantics of the often abused term “slice-of-life”, but I think it fits the description nicely, telling seven different episodic stories in the lives of Shirley and the other maids.

The most notable aspect of the manga is the fact that it’s historically correct, or at least I think it is. Non-moe fans can breathe a sigh of relief as there aren’t any noticeable undertones surrounding Shirley and her youthful innocence. Of course, it’s primarily a slice-of-life series, not a historical one, so it doesn’t read like one of those infamous classical novels about the British class system either. The characters are attractive, the dialogue is authentic without being forced, and the interactions between the two main characters should be enough to bring a smile to your face. If it doesn’t, there’s no point in reading.

I could probably give a better explanation of the story if I had read Emma, which is now something on my to-do list. I wouldn’t say that there’s anything particularly special about my first experience with Kaoru Mori’s manga, but Shirley contains the kind of feel-good slice-of-life that I love about iyashi-kei, and it’s presented in a manner that’s rarely seen in the medium. It’s a pleasant way to pass an evening as long as you don’t expect any frilly headdresses or garter belts.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

Notes on BlazBlue

ETERNAL — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 20:04:50 GMT

[nejime]

I might be late to the party by a year or two, but I recently got my hands on a great arcade stick for the X360 and a copy of Arc System’s latest stylish 2D fighter. Now, I realize that this isn’t a gaming blog, but something about BlazBlue has piqued my curiosity.

For one, the game feels suspiciously catered to anime fans, and not in a bad way. To prove my point, you’ve probably already heard of it, or at least seen some pictures – like Guilty Gear’s Bridget, some of the characters and inside jokes make it out of the fighting game community and into the general otakusphere. The story mode also seems strangely fleshed out, though it’s still too early for me to comment on the plot.

At any rate, BlazBlue definitely isn’t beginner-friendly, but it seems to contain quite a few treats for the anime fans in the audience. Most of my attention is focused on learning how to play, but I can’t help but notice how polished the game feels outside of its core gameplay. Besides, with official art like this, how can you go wrong?

The story mode in particular is what drove me to write this post. You’ve probably already heard this if you follow the gaming community, but BlazBlue has a surprisingly deep single-player experience. I’m not sure if it has a surprisingly deep story since I’ve only played a couple of the routes, but I can already tell that it’s polished. Take a look at the screencap above: it’s from the Japanese version of the game, I know, but look at the sprites. We already know that the character designs are above-average, but this is professional eroge-quality art we’re talking about! Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for the story mode’s BGM and the dialogue is kept to a minimum, but it has a pleasant amount of eye candy for a fighting game.

If you haven’t played the game before, you’re probably wondering why I mentioned the term “routes” in that last paragraph. Interestingly, none of the characters’ story modes are complete when you first start them: you have to move back and forth between routes, exposing the overall plot from different angles. This means that the game probably suffers from Tsukihime Syndrome in that there’s arguably a right and wrong order to play the game in, but the experience is pretty much seamless as long as you’re not too picky. It feels a bit like Ever 17 in that the structure forces you to play the role of the 3rd person narrator rather than the protagonist. The story also comes with a few CGs, and the prologue/epilogue scenes feel like something right out of a linear visual novel. Whether the plot is good or not, it’s all very pretty and attractive, which is a pleasant change of pace from the awkward story modes that some fighting games are known for.

There’s not much to say about the technical aspects of the game aside from the gameplay mechanics, but there’s enough to be impressed by. Daisuke Ishiwatari is the composer for most, if not all of the Guilty Gear and BlazBlue series, and his tracks are all suited to the games. I’ve heard as many fans comment on the music of Guilty Gear as I’ve heard compliments to Castlevania music, and I’m starting to see that they were right.

I’m not sure who the character designer is, but whoever it is has also done a satisfying job on the entire cast, male and female. Being a typical moe fan, I’m obviously most interested in Noel and Rachel, but there’s quite a bit of creativity in the rest of the cast as well. Jin is one of the first badass bishounen to catch my eye in years, Litchi’s hair makes me smile, and Nu is just awesome all around. Incidentally, Carl probably has more than a few female fans, and I still don’t really know what Taokaka is.

Also, for the seiyuu otaku, Rachel is voiced by Kana Ueda and Tao is voiced by Chiwa Saitou. And yes, you can freely switch the voice and text language in the English version of the game.

Official art. These guys know their marketing.

Unfortunately, no matter how many spectacular pieces of BGM and suggestive yuri promo art the developers create, nothing can change the fact that BlazBlue is inaccessible. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing: 2D fighters are meant to be competitive, period. I bought this game because I wanted to learn how to play, and I’m still busy learning how to play. It’s amazing. It’s like dodging bullets. Even so, it’s not like your average anime-style JRPG that requires more time than skill – fighting games are awful if you do it wrong and incredible if you do it right.

Having said that, BlazBlue probably isn’t a bad entry point to the genre, and it’s current-gen so you’ll always have access to human opponents to fight. It’s definitely worth checking out for every anime fan who’s into gaming, but be warned: victory does not come cheap.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

5 tips to help you stop being a secondary Touhou fan and start dodging bullets

ETERNAL — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 03:22:18 GMT

It’s hard to pinpoint what it is about Touhou that draws people to it. Somewhere within the unique character designs, quirky personalities, stylish music and skillful game design lies the secret that made ZUN the otaku culture star that he is. However, the incredible popularity of his franchise has resulted in an interesting phenomenon among his fans: primary and secondary fandom.

I’m not sure how official this terminology is, but in general, Touhou fans can be divided into two categories: the people who enjoy it for the fan works and the memes, and the people who enjoy it for the source material. It’s essential to delve into both categories if you want to experience everything the franchise has to offer, but considering how mainstream it’s become, it’s safe to say that many of today’s Touhou fans shy away from the original games out of fear. I can’t blame them, either: bullet dodging is scary stuff. It’s tough for gamers, and it’s even tougher for non-gamers.

Regardless, you’ll be the one missing out if you don’t bite the bullet and try to grasp the intricacies of ZUN’s game design. After all, little girls shooting fairies can only take you so far – the beautiful chaos of the game’s extreme side are as important as any amount of techno remixes and yuri doujins. If you think you’re up for the task, read on for a few tips on how to experience Touhou fandom through its intimidating yet exhilarating source.

[shushio]

(Just wait ’til you see what her hearts can really do…)

1 – Take your time

It sounds like obvious advice, but you’d be surprised at how hard it is to follow. No matter how you look at it, you won’t learn to dodge bullets overnight, and hopefully no one is holding a gun to your head and forcing you to play Lunatic. Take it slowly, and be sure to 1cc a difficulty level before moving on to the next one. If you’re an inexperienced gamer and Normal is destroying you, just play Easy, and play it until you can beat it. Do not force yourself to start the series in June and beat MoF on Lunatic by September. You have to set goals, but don’t expect it to be as easy as marathoning an anime series.

2 – Watch replays

Does the concept of copying another gamer’s strategy bother you? If so, have fun trying to beat Extra when you can’t even 1cc Normal.

Everyone has different ideals when it comes to the use of outside aid in games, be it through replays and strategies or blindly following the orders of an FAQ. However, there’s no question that observing more skilled players will help your game, and it certainly won’t guarantee that you play as well as them. It’s pretty tough to cheat in a game that revolves around skill. It’s like copying an established combo in a fighting game: even if you “steal” a pre-existing tactic, it won’t magically let you win tournaments, and it’s a good starting point if you’re not good enough to invent your own combos.

The interesting thing about Touhou is that it places a lot of emphasis on dodging instead of shooting, which, to some degree, goes against the shmup tradition. This means that some spellcards will look impossible at first until someone points you to the solution, and the best way to find that solution is by watching a replay. If you’re worried about it being unfair, don’t – unless you think you’re capable of putting in twice the amount of time needed and learning the entire game yourself.

3 – Don’t limit yourself to one game

This might sound odd, but you’d be surprised at how helpful it can be to switch between games. You’ll probably understand what I mean when you keep dying to the same boss in stage 5 and you feel like punching your keyboard every time you hear the stage 1 BGM.

Remember, you’re trying to build your skill, not your memory. You will lose a small percentage of the stage enemies and bullet patterns that you memorized if you switch to another game, but it’s worth it in that it’s the only way to avoid frustration. It’s not a flawless tactic, but it works. If you beat IN on Normal and can’t beat Hard, don’t worry – there are 11 other games for you to beat on Normal, and those are just from the main series! Phantasmagoria of Flower View is great for training your instincts because there’s no memorization, and Shoot the Bullet is great for preparing you for boss battles because you can’t bombspam through it. Play around, have fun, and try to keep yourself from getting stuck. One day you’ll come back to that Hard mode and accidentally ace it.

4 – Study the genre

This is a bit of a vague point, but it makes sense when you think about it. Depending on your experience with gaming, you might be a hardcore console or PC gamer with little experience in bullet hell, or you might be a complete beginner. If you’re already a hardcore arcade gamer you won’t be reading this, so I’ll assume that you’re unfamiliar with the bullet hell genre.

Effectively, most of these old-school arcade shmups are meant to be impossible. They’re supposed to destroy your wallet as you continue five times against the last boss, and they’re supposed to encourage repeat visits to the local arcade to top your friend’s best score. Since there’s no multiplayer component and the entire game is linear from a game design standpoint, there’s only one way to do better than the guy sitting beside you: perfection.

Bullet hell games demand sheer perfection. They’re like a time trial in a racing game, only you have to deal with an hour of gameplay spread across 6 stages instead of a mere 3 laps. You cannot fool the bad AI like in a fighting game, you cannot lure out the enemies one by one like in an action game. There is no secret weapon, no unlockable sword that kills with a single hit. You need to be perfect if you hope to win. If you play Touhou with the same mindset that you use to approach Call of Duty, you’ll fail. For one, you’re fighting a pre-programmed computer, not a team of humans – and you can’t afford risk death if it means gaining an extra kill.

I can go on about this forever, but to be honest, it’s something that you have to learn for yourself. Just be sure to analyze your own mistakes. When you die, ask yourself why it happened. Was it a careless mistake? Were you too slow at bombing? Did you forget the spellcard’s pattern or the stage enemies’ spawning locations? You’ll learn a lot about the game and the genre if you pay close attention and don’t let your prior gaming experiences fool you.

5 – Practice… but know when to take a break

Let’s face it, learning new things isn’t easy. The government has to force you to go to school for many years just to pound some basic information into your head, and even then, half of that information disappears by the time you reach adulthood. Whether it’s a new field of study or a new musical instrument or a new sport, learning is difficult.

Gaming is no different. You won’t get better without practice, but it’s also important to know your own limits. Sometimes it’s wise to just take a break and put it aside. Perhaps you’ll boot up the game in a year and give that old Extra stage a run, only to realize that you reach the 3/4 point without even trying. The learning process cannot be rushed: it’s simply your responsibility to do everything in your power to foster it.

- – -

In conclusion, I should mention that I was not entirely new to gaming when I started playing Touhou almost two years ago. Maybe that made the learning process easier for me, or maybe not. However, what I do know is that there was once a time when I thought I would never be able to 1cc Normal, until that fateful duel against Yuyuko that proved me wrong. I have had many ups and downs since then, but despite the countless soul-crushingly frustrating failures, I have experienced more than a few successes that I can be genuinely proud of.

On that note, I encourage you to head to your local google search bar and download whatever Touhou games you can find. Imperishable Night is the easiest, but the more the merrier. For the next hour, don’t think – just shoot. When you’re done with that, come back here and skim this post again, grab a replay at the archive, and start learning to dodge.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann Pierces the Heavens in more ways than one

ETERNAL — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 04:30:07 GMT

[eltinidordediyablo]

I missed a lot of the buzz surrounding Gurren Lagann when it first aired. I knew about the drills and the dramatic quotes and episode 8, but that was it. It seemed like one of those shows that my friend was always talking about: big, colourful robots that fuse together and punch the lights out of other big, colourful robots. To be honest, I expected to hear cheesy brass-filled BGM when I finally watched it, and I was more focused on how over-the-top it was instead of on the story it was trying to tell.

Of course, it’s a bit late to be talking about a series as popular as this, but the pair of summary movies allowed me to see the story in a different light. It’s interesting to see how much sense it all makes when you’re not caught up with Kamina’s manliness and Yoko’s breasts. In fact, when I witnessed the epic conclusion for the second time, something clicked in my head that hadn’t clicked before.

I don’t want to force my own reading of the story onto seasoned super robot fans since I’m anything but that, but when I thought about the style and tone that surrounds popular classic mecha shows like Giant Robo, I latched onto an idea that I’ll never be able to let go of.

Let me start with this: what is the super robot genre about? This is just a theory on my part, but I think it’s about passion. It’s about the emotions and sentiments that are associated with the term “GAR,” though they have existed long before the meme was born. Manliness is a legitimate way of interpreting the over-dramatic characters and idealistic passion, but it’s also a tad shallow. Passion can run a lot deeper than mere heroism. Some shounen/seinen series deal with coming-of-age and others star a scarred protagonist with a tragic past, but one element remains constant: the hero possesses the idealistic passion and desire to win at all costs, and the sheer force of his passion leads him to victory against all odds.

When you look back at Gurren Lagann with all of the spoilers in place, a handful of symbols make themselves visible. The most notable one is the drill, which was explained at some point in the story. Simon and Kamina use their drills to drill past anything and everything. It represents their unbreakable passion. Do the impossible, see the invisible… right? And there’s no need to explain what ROW ROW FIGHT DA POWAH is supposed to mean.

The so-called “spiral” power of humanity is also a reference to the drill symbol and its implications. The spiral is a motif in the story and a very relevant plot device. Spiral power is literally the strength of humanity: it represents the undying will of the human race to live. As humans evolved biologically and as society developed uncontrollably, civilization was split into the “spirals” and “anti-spirals”. The anti-spirals sealed away the spirals, repressing their growth, because they knew that growth would eventually lead to their demise.

And as you well know, the anti-spirals are the main villains of the story.

The implications are obvious. Simon’s spiral power is symbolic of his desire; of humanity’s desire. Spiral power touches the untouchable and breaks the unbreakable. Even if, as sci-fi novelists persistently remind us, the development of the human race will eventually lead to its demise, nothing justifies the erasure of life. Live life to its fullest, meet your challenges head on, and have no regrets – these are the basic sentiments behind the super robot genre and shounen anime as a whole. Gurren Lagann isn’t just manly: it’s figuratively and literally a showcase of the passionate idealism that defines its genre.

When I came to this realization, I knew that the series would never be the same. It had always been an exciting experience, well worthy of a high grade on MAL, but I couldn’t attach any meaning to it. I labeled it as nothing more than a revival of the classic super robot genre without searching for more. In reality, the show’s symbols and motifs are well thought out, if not a little obvious. The story makes sense thematically, and it’s an incredible visualization of everything that it stands for. Believing in the you who believes in me; saving the world with the magical power of who the hell do you think WE are?! It pierces the heavens with its unyielding passion to see what lies beyond, just because it can.

And let’s not forget that it’s epic.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

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