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

©2010 Memories of Eternity. All Rights Reserved.

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

©2010 Memories of Eternity. All Rights Reserved.

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

©2010 Memories of Eternity. All Rights Reserved.

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

©2010 Memories of Eternity. All Rights Reserved.

It’s been almost a year since K-ON first aired, but I feel as if I never got to say what I wanted. Sure, I have an opinion on the show, but it’s lost in cyberspace, drifting around in comments here and tweets there. I want to put things down on paper, figuratively speaking. I want to put things down in a place that I’ll remember.

The funny thing about K-ON is that I can’t rationally explain my enjoyment of it. Objectively, I think it’s a spectacular moe show, and I realize that I probably just like it because of Mio; but at the same time, that isn’t enough to make it stand out from the crowd. I don’t think it’s a particularly good anime, but it has some sort of mysterious hold over me, something that forces out a smile every time. As a matter of fact, it’s one of the only shows that I’m genuinely looking forward to.

I think I’ve had this post drifting around in my head for a while, but I never had the will to push it out. The OVA certainly helped: it’s not worth writing about, but it’s filled with the same kind of lighthearted, moe-filled character interaction that defines the show. That said, I don’t think the point really hit home until I saw the chart for the upcoming season. The news started to feel real. Just like last year, I’ll be spending my spring grinning like an idiot in front of my TV. Just like last year, I’ll be putting off classic anime and intriguing novels in the name of Akiyama Mio’s finger calluses. The magic is back. The magic that earned 5000 danbooru images in a year is back.

Let’s cut to the chase: K-ON is a moe show. It always was and always will be. Sure, you can watch it for the comedy or the music, but that’s like watching Evangelion for the cool robots – it’s acceptable, but it’s not the main point. I don’t think that it’s particularly significant or symbolic in the genre, but something about its treatment of moe strikes a chord with me. In a sense, it’s the antithesis of the harem/galge genre: instead of making a guy date cute girls, why not just focus on the cute girls? The show severs the relationship between emotional escapism and moe. It puts the gal in galge, and it takes out the ge. The moe of K-ON is artificial, refined, purified. It’s calculated to the point that it creates a pleasantly convincing illusion, and it soothes the soul without relying on awkward self-inserts.

Or at least that’s my rational explanation of it. It’s probably above average as a moe show, but who am I to talk when react like a shy, blushy shoujo protagonist whenever Mio gets embarrassed? All I know is that there’s enough anime that I haven’t seen to keep me from looking forward to something that isn’t here yet, but sometimes I can’t help myself.

And on that note, let me kick reason to the curb and say this: here’s to another season of after school tea time, of Mugi’s lesbian daydreams and Yui’s airheaded mistakes. Here’s to thirteen more episodes of girly rock and meta fanservice.

Here’s to the greatest moe anime I’ve ever seen.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

©2010 Memories of Eternity. All Rights Reserved.

I could call myself a fan of OEL visual novels. True, I have never played one that genuinely impressed me outside of the comedy/satire genre, and I’m naturally biased toward the medium considering my own endeavour in it, but it’s safe to say that there are a few pleasant creations out there. Ren’Py has been around since 2004, and a lot of amateur writers and artists have tried their hand at the tedious but ultimately rewarding task of creating a visual novel.

Considering that the community has an ever-growing archive of Ren’Py-created games, it would seem as though everything is in order. As a consumer, however, this might not be the case. As much as I hate to say this, some developers might be trying to step into the professional world a bit too soon.

Piracy aside, it’s reasonable to assume that people will pay for products that they deem worthy. If a product is not worthy of its asking price, it won’t be bought. Basic economics.

Following this logic, some recent releases imply that OEL VNs are indeed professional products. I don’t mean to single anyone out, but The Flower  Shop seemed like a fairly pleasant game when I first heard about it. The most fun part of Harvest Moon was getting married, so hey, why not just play a dating sim with farming elements in it? It sounds like fun, and it would be a great way to waste the time that I should be spending on fiction and blog posts.

Luckily for me, I won’t have to worry about that distraction, because the game costs $20. Now, I do realize that $20 isn’t very much; there’s no doubt that I’ve wasted that same amount on stupider things in the past. Still, let’s take a look at some older Japanese games to compare: Kanon’s retail price is around $30, but it’s a decade old; Saya no Uta is much shorter and a bit newer, and it’s going for the same price; Umineko is a popular technically non-commercial VN with a retail price of $25; and Narcissu can be currently imported for a mere $21.

In other words, I could spend $20 on Fading Hearts, or, if I possessed the language skills, spend that same amount of money on the new Narcissu. Some OELs might be above average, but quite frankly, which do you think is the better deal?

[goto p]

To be fair, comparisons alone don’t make for much of an argument. It’s a fact that the creation of OEL VNs consumes a lot of time, and as Aorii pointed out to me on Twitter, the money might be a necessary incentive. I’ve always thought that Fading Hearts looked like a pretty good game, with detailed backgrounds and appealing character designs. The quality would have probably dropped if the group considered themselves to be a doujin circle rather than a company – but just as price comparisons make for an unfair judgment, the argument of time and incentive is flimsy and subjective. Yes, money helps create a better product – but so what? Tsukihime had photographic backgrounds, and look what happened to that.

At any rate, I don’t think that OELs should be monetized. This isn’t because it goes against the spirit of doujinshi or anything that idealistic: it’s simply because creating a commercial game pits you against the commercial market. I might eventually try one of the games mentioned in this post, but if I do, I won’t complement it and say “it was better than Katawa Shoujo” (which, at least for the moment, is free). Frankly, I doubt if any OEL VN currently in development has as much potential as KS, but that doesn’t matter because I’ll have to compare every nakige to Kanon and every school life galge to Shuffle and Da Capo.

In the off-chance that a commercial OEL VN is good enough to be worth the price, then go right ahead – every developer has the right to sell their game. However, it can be an extremely risky move for a group of amateurs to go the extra mile in production and create a great product only to narrow their audience by calling themselves pros.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

©2010 Memories of Eternity. All Rights Reserved.

[banpai akira]

I don’t usually reflect on my own history as an anime fan, but something occurred to me the other day. What is the significance of a gateway anime? What kind of impact does a person’s first experience with a medium have on their enjoyment and preferences of that medium? Most fans who choose to pursue anime seriously become more well-rounded over time, but I think that the early experiences are given less credit than they deserve.

The idea for this post came to mind when I was reading one of mefloraine’s tweets on Fate/stay night. It reminded me of something that had always bugged me about Type-Moon: why are their games always used as gateway visual novels for English speakers? F/SN is definitely a spectacular story, and I would recommend it to every anime fan, including the type who would never dare to play an eroge. From that perspective, it’s only natural that many fans’ experience with visual novels is limited to the Type-Moon games, and maybe a Saya no Uta or an Ever 17.

This trend is not necessarily a bad thing, and it’s good to know that even the non-moe fans among us are willing to enjoy some of the great stories that are only available in the VN format, but it has its downsides. Have you ever seen a thread on a typical forum in which the poster asks for games that are similar to Type-Moon and the other story-heavy producers? The answer should be yes. People always want more of the above-average stories that they start with, without realizing that their starting point is an exception, not the norm.

I think this phenomenon is more present with visual novels than with anime because of the lack of translations. People can’t play the latest eroge from Japan or pick up a random title from a local gaming store, so it’s more likely that their “first” will be a popular story-heavy game that everyone knows through word of mouth. There’s no equivalent to the TV channels and R1 DVDs to give people a random sampling. The end result can be a completely skewed expectation of the entire medium.

(Take a break, have an old DBZ 4koma)

Anyway, I started this post by talking about anime, and anime is what I intend on talking about. I do think that the lack of visual novel translations gives many new fans a skewed perspective of the medium, but that isn’t the only impact that gateway fiction can have.

If I mention the term “oldfag”, you’ll probably know where I’m headed with this. Many of the older anime fans who went to high school in the 90s have a completely different perspective of anime than the younger fans do, and a lot of this is due to the early experiences of both parties. For the people who started watching anime when super robot shows were the norm and random OVAs were coming out every year (or probably every month), anime has a very different meaning. Compare that to the kids of the early Naughties, as they call it, who grew up on shounen anime. Dragon Ball Z has always been around, but I don’t think shows like Naruto and One Piece were a part of the 90s kids’ vocabulary. It gets even more confusing when the kids of today start off with moe anime and harem comedy on Crunchyroll and YouTube.

As I said in the beginning, it isn’t too difficult to outgrow your roots and explore unfamiliar terrain, but I think that everyone is affected by their gateway anime in some way. Even though I’m not a shounen fan, I still feel a strange sense of excitement when I witness a dramatic, over-the-top battle. Shounen battle anime has to be like Rurouni Kenshin, or I’ll probably be disappointed. Similarly, my early experiences with Key made the nakige my standard expectation for visual novels, causing me to unconsciously doubt games like Muv-luv until I eventually play them.

What does this mean for the other generations? This is only speculation, but I can understand why the old-school super robot fans want more mecha shows out of each new season, even if they enjoy what they’re currently watching. You don’t have to be cynical to want the industry to make more of what you like.

This might not be a revolutionary idea, but when we get caught up in the sea of media in the subculture that we thrive in, it’s easy to forget that we all found our way into this world through different means. Even though opinions change over time, everyone is at least slightly affected by their roots. The news of the new Soukyuu no Fafner project got me far more excited than I expected because I watched the original series before Evangelion; I still feel as if every shoujo manga should be like Fruits Basket. I know I’ve changed a lot since I first started watching anime, but it’s interesting to take note of the little expectations and preferences that linger on. Try it some time.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

©2010 Memories of Eternity. All Rights Reserved.

Ghost in the Shell is the kind of show that doesn’t need to be written about, partly because it speaks for itself and partly because it’s an obligatory gateway anime that must be watched to earn one’s Aniblogger Badge. Still, as I was watching the Laughing Man OVA the other day to refresh my memory of the franchise, my brain started spinning all over again. What is it about the show that makes it so good? In a nutshell, it’s everything – the technical details of animation and music are top notch, the characters are solid, and the story treads on the shades of gray within social and philosophical issues.

I’m sure most people who have seen the summary OVA would condemn it for cutting out important character and world-building details, but the opportunity to view the entire series compressed into a couple hours lends a broader perspective. For me, it brought to light the two sides of the story that make Ghost in the Shell what it is.

The Laughing Man’s arc is an exciting pseudo detective story filled with all sorts of twists and turns, but when you view it with prior knowledge of the plot, it’s easy to see how thematically straightforward it is. The story’s direct references to JD Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye are the obvious key point.

As far as I know, Holden Caulfield is a bit of an icon in society, and he even has his own Wikipedia page if you’re unfamiliar. I haven’t studied Catcher formally yet, but I’ll go out on a limb and assume that it’s about the frustrations with society that are caused by the stubborn idealism of youth. In the Laughing Man’s case, his own sense of ethics and justice kept him from accepting the deception of society. The “phonies” had to be stopped. Like any young adult who has witnessed the lies and sophistry of the corporate world, Aoi viewed himself as a rebel and devoted his life to fighting a just cause.

When we tie this basic social issue to the futuristic setting of Ghost in the Shell, it creates an effect reminiscent of Planetes. The future is, in fact, not as much of a mystery as we make it out to be. Cyberbrains might still be a far-off fantasy, but the realities of corporate crime and the eternal issue of ethics still plays a role in society. The Laughing Man’s logo couldn’t be more clear: what I thought I’d do was, I’d become one of those deaf mutes. The quote represents Aoi’s – and Holden’s – rejection of society.

On the opposite side of this, we also have the metaphysical issues associated with Ghost in the Shell. This part of the story is more emphasized in the original film (after all, the TV series is called Stand Alone Complex for a reason). However, the story is woven in such a way that every aspect touches on every other aspect.

In SAC, the rapidly blurring line between conscience and artificial intelligence is applied to the social issues that the show addresses. The screencap up above is an Engrishy justification of the name.

GitS takes place in a time of disconcerting change, in which society operates like a collective being yet still retains some element of individualism. The ambiguous, metaphysical question of the identity of the soul (as represented through the ghost in the show’s title) comes into play because it affects Motoko on a personal level and because most of Aoi’s character hinges on it.

In their final conversation, Aoi reveals his plans – and his mistakes – and we learn that he was also isolated by the society that is neither fully physical or metaphysical. Aoi’s fixation with the hard copies of information in the library reflects the aimlessness that he was left with after his quest to shine light on the phonies was completed. In essence, the show’s conclusion analyzes the series of crimes and deceptions from the perspective of the society that they live in, while maintaining the feeling of hollowness that pervades Aoi’s and Holden’s characters. It forces the viewer to recognize that the metaphysical side of GitS is not purely philosophical or ethical – its social implications in Stand Alone Complex are just as, or possibly even more important.

From this perspective, the first season of GitS: SAC runs parallel to the first film: they’re different, but they’re two sides of the same coin. While the movie explores the concept of artificial intelligence from a philosophical standpoint, analyzing the nature of the soul and utilizing Oshii’s signature religious references, Stand Alone Complex focuses on what its title implies: society. The technological advancements of the GitS world have just as many significant implications on the role of the individual in society as they do on abstract concepts like religion and self-perception.

The Laughing Man’s story resounded with me when I first watched the series, but it didn’t intrigue me until now. I had always considered Ghost in the Shell to be solely focused on Oshii’s abstract philosophy, but this cyberpunk retelling of Holden’s battle against society got me thinking that there might be more to cyberbrains and the ghosts of the shells than clever detective tricks and semi-coherent existentialism.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

©2010 Memories of Eternity. All Rights Reserved.

There’s a certain topic within moe fandom that is rarely broached. Considering the amount of fuss people make over events like Sal9000’s wedding, you’d think it would have come up, but most conversations skirt around what I have always considered to be the heart of the matter. In essence, it boils down to the following questions:

• The protection of innocence or the corruption of it?
• Sad girls in snow or hadaka apron on the boxart?
• Skinship or something more unsavory?

These points beat around the bush as well, but I think you get the idea. I believe that the often-overlooked “secret” behind moe and 2D complex lies within the exact opposite of what ero-ge is traditionally supposed to be about.

This is a bit of a follow-up to my last post, in which I talked about the art of adding depth to flat moe characters whose sole purpose is to pander to the viewer. My conclusion is that it requires the same level of writing that any other type of character requires; if the character is good enough, the viewers will suspend their disbelief automatically. However, this entire topic can only make sense under one assumption: moe can be appealing from an emotional perspective as well as, or instead of, a physical perspective. When Shin’s comment reminded me of a common point of contention within Moe Theory, as I like to call it, I decided to write a post that I’ve wanted to write for a year.

This also gives me a chance to post a screencap I’ve been wanting to post for a year.

Since this topic is rooted in the visual novel medium, a history lesson might be of value, and this handy article available on Shii’s database might be a good starting point.

As most people know, eroge began as just that: erotic games. The porn was always the goal, and the characters were an afterthought. In other words, the concept of moe appears to be newer than the concept of the visual novel, and it was not until later that VNs became the standard medium to create galge in.

To keep things simple, let’s use To Heart as an example. Though I don’t know from first hand experience, I’m fairly certain that it was one of the earliest examples of eroge that focused on moe over sex. In other words, the cast of characters was meant to be more romantically appealing to the player than sexually appealing. Whether people played the game with this in mind is another story, but looking at how the medium has grown since then, it’s common sense that 30+ hours of dialogue is too much to skip through for a couple hours of sex.

Effectively, the priorities of the medium have shifted. Every VN fan would have realized this by now, but I’m not sure how often the distinction is drawn between the two eras – and I think it’s a very important distinction.

Despite the fact that most visual novels involve sex and most of the heroines are sexualized and fetishized to some degree, I cannot see this as the point of emphasis in any but the most extreme games. You could argue that eroge heroines are not realistic, but this isn’t because the player views them as sex objects – it’s because the player views them as easy targets for a romantic relationship. At its worst, moe is about casting women as doormats for the comfort of insecure men; at its best, it’s about removing the impurities of relationships and focusing only on the emotion at its core. Your description will vary depending on your opinion of moe, but both perspectives agree on one thing: the goal of moe is to provide emotional therapy to the viewer, not physical therapy.

After all, when last have you heard someone criticize a moe show of having too much fanservice? Fanservice is like the antithesis of moe. In fact, non-fans have started describing shows like K-ON as having “moe fanservice” – and that’s accurate for all intents and purposes, but it implies that there’s a difference between traditional fanservice and “moe” fanservice. Shows like Nanoha and Nanatsuiro Drops are innocent at first glance, but because we know that they’re intended for a male audience, we still classify them as “fanservice,” only using a new subcategory. Even the moe-illiterate realize that you cannot use the same term to describe Queen’s Blade and K-ON.

This is relevant, somehow.

Anyway, what I believe I have proven in the last 700 words is that hentai, sex-focused eroge, and fanservice anime have virtually nothing to do with galge and moe, aside from their common origins and target audience. They both pander to the audience in the sense that they portray a convenient fantasy as reality, but they do so for a completely different reason. On one hand you have physical desires, and on the other you have emotional desires. They can be two sides of the same coin, but implying that your average fluffy moe-moe-rabu-rabu galge is about sex is just as nonsensical as drawing a parallel between Tsukihime and Bible Black.

In the end, whether you enjoy moe and visual novels for the physical or emotional aspect is entirely up to you. However, I feel the need to distinguish between the two elements because even though they often go hand-in-hand, they are still two very different things. When you look at moe from an emotional perspective, stories like Kanon make infinitely more sense.

This also ties into what I was originally talking about when I said that Kanon is great because it plays on its cast’s strengths and panders skillfully. My own enjoyment of the game is rooted in the surreal experience of standing in the school’s quad during lunch, having an unusual conversation with an unusual girl. Another person’s enjoyment might rely on their own experience of joining Mai in the school halls at night, fighting demons and solving a mystery.

Moe will always be subjective, but I think there is one truth that we should always keep in mind: escapism in visual novels can be emotional or physical, or both. Most good eroge strike a cosmic balance between the two, but they both have a distinctly different appeal, and they shouldn’t be treated as the same thing. In other words, Sugisaki Ken’s ambition of earning the harem end might be the dream of eroge fans around the world, but it shouldn’t be misconstrued as a symbol of moe fandom.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

©2010 Memories of Eternity. All Rights Reserved.

As you might know, I’ve been reading through Kanon, the famed visual novel that sparked many a moe enthusiast’s fandom. All things considered, it’s not a bad game – it shows its age, and I think Itaru Hinoue’s skill has increased significantly over the past decade, but it’s definitely not bad. I could say a bit more about it, but since I’m only now finishing the trunk, I’d rather keep the rest of my opinion for the final post.

More importantly, amidst the chaos of Umineko and the distinct lack of Key over the last few seasons, Kanon is a breath of fresh air. It’s my first “normal” visual novel in a while, a reminder of why I enjoyed the medium in the first place. The endearingly generic characters, the forcefully surreal dream sequences, the cheesy synths of Last Regrets – everything that you could say to insult it, I could spin to defend it. That’s always been the law of visual novels. On top of that, its familiar galge tropes got me thinking about something I haven’t thought about in a while: the art of making 2D characters feel 3D.

If you define 2D complex as an obsessive, exclusive interest in the two-dimensional world, then that isn’t quite what this post is about. However, if you use the term more leniently (or pick another word that you feel comfortable with), it can be a quick and easy way to describe the attraction that virtually every moe fan feels toward their favourite characters.

Following my own definitions again, for simplicity’s sake, I’m looking at moe as a simple combination of physical and mental traits that character designers and writers use to let their creations earn the seemingly real affection of viewers. Despite this straightforward definition of moe, it isn’t necessarily easy to write a good moe character; if it were that easy, there would be nothing special about shows like K-on and Kannagi.

Now for the tricky part: aside from the “basic” attraction that every anime fan is aware of, there is occasionally an attraction that delves just a bit further. These are the few girls who earn “waifu” status among select fans, the characters who earn the exclusive right to a person’s avatars and profile pictures. Of course, this attraction is purely subjective, and it can vary from person to person, but it’s usually a result of more than just appealing character design and a clever combination of tropes. The question is, how can one write a moe character to make her stand out among the sea of blobs?

Unfortunately, the answer to that question is as vague as anything to do with subjective opinions. There is no black-and-white secret to manufacturing moe characters. That said, there’s a reason this post came to mind while playing Kanon, and it’s not just because of Shiori.

Okay, fine, I suppose it’s mostly due to Shiori, but don’t mistake my point for bias. True, I’m biased toward a specific character, but the theory can be applied to anything.

In a nutshell, I think Kanon’s greatest strength is its dialogue. Yuuichi is clever, and he’s a fun set of eyes to look through, but the game really shines in its presentation of its moeblobs.

And no, that sentence wasn’t meant to be sarcastic.

In reality, what is a moeblob? A miserable pile of tropes? In a sense, yes – fans will always be most attracted to the set of tropes that is most, shall we say, relevant to their interests. However, there is a difference between any dojikko and your dojikko, any sickly girl in snow and this Shiori. Dialogue is the key aspect in Kanon: it’s true to the characters’ personalities. Plausible or not, the characters are consistent, and they portray their charms accurately and effectively. Just as I find Makoto annoying, a Makoto fan would love every block of text she receives. Fundamentally, this is the key to visual novel writing: portraying each of the characters at their best, so that the reader can “naturally” fall for whichever set of tropes appeals to them.

Following that logic, we return to the original point: moe is subjective, but successful moe characters need more than just tropes to become popular and adored. In Kanon’s case, the aesthetic sense and overall ambience is a huge plus, symbolic of everything that I love about Key – and when you add the dialogue to that, everything falls into place.

My personal reaction while playing the game is literally tied with my opinion of the characters: Makoto is more annoying than cute, Mai is dull, Nayuki is adorable in a blood-related little sister sort of way, Ayu is endearingly eccentric… and Shiori is sincere. Yes, this is my bias, but it’s a result of the game’s writing. In a mediocre visual novel, Makoto wouldn’t be annoying, Mai would be plain rather than dull, Nayuki would be your average childhood friend, Ayu would be more stupid than eccentric, and Shiori would be engaging in poetic monologues from a hospital bed. The fact that I like some characters and dislike others is simply because I don’t like the tropes that some of the cast portrays. Some fans would hate Shiori for the very reason that I love her; Mai’s stoic gaze could make her fans’ hearts stop, but it only puts me to sleep.

In that sense, only the writer can bring a 2D character to life, and it requires the same skills that any character archetype does. Moe requires the participation of the viewer: 2D complex is nonexistent if the player is interacting with Naoki Hisaya’s Book of Tropes ~sad girls in snow edition~. Moe does not require realism, nor does it require a Frankenstein-esque amalgamation of things that were never meant to be put together (the guys from Welcome to the NHK already proved that one). The truly heartwarming, surreal sensation that sells galge and funds anime adaptations can only be found in characters that are created and backed by a skilled writer. Finding the balance between cut-and-paste clichés and forced realism is the secret to taking a 2D character and projecting them into the viewer’s heart – no cover-ups, no direct pandering, no frilly skirts and childhood promises. Give us a sincere representation of our personal attractions, and we’ll suspend our disbelief as necessary.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

©2010 Memories of Eternity. All Rights Reserved.