Category Archives: anime

Thoughts on Singapore Mahjong

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Ever since I wrote about the idea for a mahjong manga where the protagonist travels the world and plays various forms of the game, I’ve been eager to try out other types. Unfortunately, the best I could do was read about them and engage solely in theoryjong, which while potentially useful and certainly fun in its own way could not match the act of actually playing a game. Fortunately, I was able to find a website with not only rules for a Singapore-style of mahjong, but also an online game implemented for the enjoyment of visitors. Apparently it’s been around for a while, and I just wasn’t looking hard enough.

Before I go into my impressions of Singapore mahjong, there are two caveats I have to make. First, the online game provided by the above site is 1-player only. None of my words reflect someone who has played other human beings, and so I cannot talk much about the mental aspect of it beyond a certain solitaire-esque mindset. That said, I think a lot can be discerned just from playing the computer. Second, as I am mainly familiar with the Japanese-style riichi mahjong, I will be using that form of the game to relate my experiences. Also vital to note for those who are stumbling on this post from perhaps other mahjong sites is that I’m not even that good at Japanese mahjong, so the particulars of my “tactics” are mediocre at best.

Like all of the other forms of mahjong, the Singapore style is about creating a complete hand consisting of a number of 3-tile combinations and a pair to finish it off. 3-tile combinations consist of either three-of-a-kinds or straights. Players draw and discard tiles looking for a winning hand, with the last vital tile coming only after the rest of the hand is in a position to actually win. Like Japanese mahjong, you need at least 1 yaku/fan in order to win. However, there are three main differences (and a bunch of minor ones, but I won’t go into those too much).

1) Animal Tiles

While many forms of mahjong have “flowers,” tiles which are collected and set aside during the round that can potentially give bonuses to the player who collected them, the first and most glaring difference between Singapore Mahjong and all other forms is the additional presence of “animal tiles.” Four exist in a set: Chicken, Centipede, Cat, and Mouse, and they behave similarly to flower tiles, except that getting both the “predator” and its “prey” will net you additional points. The chicken eats the centipede, the cat eats the mouse, and should either of these happen you don’t even need to win in order to reap those benefits; you gain the points immediately. This also applies to appropriate flower tile combinations, and it means that even if you end up losing, you still kind of won.

2) Little Variation in Winning Hands

The path to winning of course lies in “fan,” or “yaku,” the predetermined combinations that are considered part of a winning hand. However, unlike Japanese mahjong, the number of fan that exist in Singapore mahjong are remarkably few in number. Whereas in riichi you get credit for hands like san shoku (either straights or triplets), chanta, junchan, chii toitsu, tanyao, ii pei kou, and san an kou, none of those I just mentioned are considered noteworthy hands in Singapore mahjong. Even Yakuman such as suu an kou, ryuu ii sou, and chuuren pooto do not get honored in this mahjong variation. Essentially, the only realistic paths are getting triplets of honor tiles, hands consisting entirely of straights (the “chicken hand” in Chinese forms of mahjong), toi toi, and either chinitsu or honitsu. If you didn’t understand any of what I just said, let me summarize by saying that Singapore mahjong has significantly fewer ways to win a game compared to Japanese mahjong, and that has a clear effect on how it plays out.

3) Everybody Pays

Another major difference with riichi mahjong is the point exchange that occurs when someone wins. In riichi, if someone draws the winning tile themselves, they get a few points from everyone else. If someone discards the winning tile, the victor takes their earnings entirely from the player who threw that tile away, with the other two players remaining untouched. Not so in Singapore mahjong, where everyone pays if a win happens on discard, and everyone pays even more when a win is achieved by self-draw. Combined with an utter lack of furiten, that lynchpin rule of Japanese mahjong that prevents a player’s discards from outright lying to the other players, it means that playing defensively as one normally would with the Japanese style does not hold anywhere near the same benefits in Singapore mahjong.

Overall

Taken all together, Singapore mahjong’s profile is that of a game where aggression is valued and tough decisions have to be made from the very start. The absence of even tanyao as a viable hand means that if your hand is half triplets and half straights, you have to make the decision to go one or the other, or to hope for some honors, flowers, or animals to give your hand the necessary minimum fan to even try to win.

The sheer lack of options can feel stifling for someone like me who is used to having many more options. Hands do not grow into one another easily; a potential san shoku cannot slowly arise from a pinfu attempt, because the gaps between hands are too stark, outside of possibly a honitsu turning into a chinitsu or vice versa. While one could argue that Japanese mahjong has too many options that make the game seem ridiculously arbitrary and tough to learn, the dearth of yaku in Singapore mahjong makes it feel less like a “flow” of tiles and more like a “hail.” That simplicity is not without its merits, but it’s something I’d have to get used to, especially coming from the defense-heavy style of riichi mahjong.

Funnily enough, a pinfu hand actually nets a whopping 4 fan (with 5 fan being the absolute limit allowed typically), but on one condition: no bonus tiles (animals, flowers) can be collected. With 12 of those suckers in a given set, it becomes a matter of avoiding “good luck” just long enough for one’s own “bad luck” to implode on itself and transform into something even more powerful.

Given that my interest in it has something to do with imagining how it would work in a comic, I have to then ask, what interesting story elements could be derived from playing Singapore mahjong? I think that for at least part of a Singapore arc, animal tiles would have to play a significant role. They’re one of the more distinct parts of this particular flavor of mahjong, and if it were something like a Fukumoto manga, the whole predator-prey thing could make for some amazing metaphors, and the immediate point exchanges upon getting a proper combination could subtly shift games.

It would also work as somewhat of a setup for a Malaysia arc, as I’ve read that 3-Player Malaysian mahjong is quite similar. I’ve yet to try that, though if someone can figure out a way for me to do so, I would very much like to hear it.

Vistas: Learning Taiwan

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After a long time away from it, I’ve got a new post up on the Vistas blog, where I (sort of) talk about my recent trip to Taiwan. It has less to do with the sightseeing and more to do with realizing my own ignorance about its history. I might write up a more extensive trip post at some point for Ogiue Maniax.

Why I Think Gundam AGE Episode 1 is an Excellent First Episode

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After one episode, Gundam AGE has convinced me to watch it. I don’t mean that it’s done enough that I’m willing to give it another few episodes, or even that I’m going to watch because I’m aware that Sunrise mecha series tend to take about 13 episodes for the story to “really” begin. What I am saying, rather, is that just this first episode makes me want to see the show through from beginning to end. While not perfect, in my opinion Gundam AGE has an incredibly solid first episode to the extent that even if the show turns out to be awful, I can still point to the very beginning and say, “That… was an excellent introduction.”

There are multiple reasons for why I think so highly of that first episode, but probably the biggest among them is the main character himself. As a small child, Flit is shown as having suffered a tragedy at the hands of the UE, the “Unknown Enemy.” As a 14 year old, he is clearly driven by the trauma of his past, wishing to do something to not only continue his parents’ legacy (they were Mobile Suit creators) but to never let the same thing happen again. He is motivated to act to such a degree that he creates the Gundam itself. Whereas most Gundam protagonists in the past have come across their units through a quick series of twists, Flit has been actively working towards its completion for what I can only assume has been years. He is shown to be a brilliant scientific prodigy who had to grow up a little too fast, and yet is still a kid at heart. The way he tries to convince his classmates of the impending threat of the UE shows pretty much everything about him, a mix of intelligence, dedication (possibly obsession), and the feelings and thoughts of a 14 year old boy.

Flit is a character that I can get behind. He feels like he has room to grow, and at the same time already is something of an inspirational character.

And all through this, though he has experienced tragedy, he does not feel as if he is defined as a tragic character. In fact, perhaps thanks to the show’s aesthetics, from its bright color palette to its more rounded character designs, the entire show feels fun and vibrant in a way that doesn’t negate the weight of its more serious aspects. In a way, it reminds me of the first episode of Heartcatch Precure!, which also won me over immediately. Even the shot of the space colony felt more impressive to me than it has in years;I could sense the wonder that is living in a space colony, even after being a Gundam for over a decade now. A lot happens in this first episode, both in terms of growing the story and setting up a path for Flit that feels like one he has determined for himself.

I could totally start comparing this anime to older versions of Gundam. Flit, with his seeming “paranoia” and technical skill, is like an Amuro who has discovered his motivation in life at a much younger age. Emily looks like Sayla Mass and acts like Frau Bow. The kids in Flit’s class remind me of the kids from 0080: War in the Pocket. The first activation scene takes on a significantly different meaning because of how Flit created the Gundam and so knows all of its ins and outs, and it makes me recall the scene in Char’s Counterattack where Hathaway takes about the legend of Amuro and how “he knew how to pilot it as soon as he got in.” But Gundam AGE feels so fresh and energetic that I find comparing it to other Gundam series should only be seen as a fun exercise and not as a wellspring from which to initiate constant criticism. Endlessly drawing parallels to previous iterations will only make it more difficult to see what Gundam AGE does well from the very start.

Before the series began, the promotional material stressed the generational aspect of Gundam AGE and I was actually surprised to see it hardly ever discussed among the buzz. I found it to be the most intriguing and attractive part of the concept, and while it obviously has yet to fully take effect, the generational theme has already been establishes just from this episode. The concept of the “Gundam” is passed down from Flit’s parents to himself, and I can only assume he will do the same in the future. The Gundam is spoken of in almost mythological tones, a robot from long ago that saved the world and changed everything. Seeing that scene, I could only think that, in a way, the status of the Gundam in the world of AGE mirrors the legendary status of the Gundam franchise itself. I would not be surprised if the kids watching AGE see Gundam as this piece of history that they’re told is one of the most significant pieces of anime history, but feels strangely distant, like it comes from another time. By having the Gundam take this role, Gundam AGE episode 1 really does make it seem like a Gundam for a newer generation.

Also, the robots look cool.

The Fujoshi Files 27: Naganohara Mio

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Name: Naganohara Mio (長野原みお)
Alias: N/A
Relationship Status: Single
Origin: Nichijou

Information:
Naganohara Mio is a high school student and an easily excitable girl who frequently has to deal with the absurdity of others, whether it’s from her best friends Aioi Yuuko and Minakami Mai, or from her older sister Yoshino. Fairly athletic, the main thing that keeps Mio from excelling in sports is a seeming inability to channel her physical abilities in an organized fashion. Regardless, she is a fast runner, has some training in kendo (thanks to her sister being a prodigy in the sport), and is adept at pro wrestling techniques, notably the Dragon Screw. Mio is also notable for her usage of two wooden cubes as hair ties.

Mio is a skilled amateur artist who frequently ends up drawing BL content or something related to it. Though she often tries to refrain from showing that side to others, it ends up coming out whether she wants it to or not. The most frequent reference for her racier drawings is an older student named Sasahara Koujirou, a sophisticated son of a farmer on whom Mio has a crush.

Fujoshi Level:
Mio is able to use her physical skills in defense of her fujoshi lifestyle. When pushed to the limit, she is capable of defeating multiple adversaries, man or beast, in order to protect her artwork.

On NTR

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I’ve been thinking recently about “netorare” or “NTR,” a porn subgenre which involves a woman being taken from her significant other by another man and forgetting about her husband/boyfriend entirely, and its rising popularity in ero anime and manga. Generally, the woman does not want to have the affair at first (and the first encounter usually involves coercion, blackmail, or rape), but is swayed by the other man’s superior sexual prowess. About the closest equivalent is a cuckolding fetish. Based on the reactions people have towards it, which is generally something like a mix of anger, frustration, and sorrow (to the extent that you have fans championing “vanilla” material as the heroic counterpart to NTR), I just have to wonder what has made it catch on.

Violence and even rape are not new to pornographic anime or manga. Go back to the 1950s and you will see those as themes in the cheaply produced porn manga that existed at the time. Same thing goes for women cheating on their men. The difference, I think, is that in those older examples, the male viewer was supposed to identify with the seducer/attacker, but in NTR that is no longer the case. The male viewer is now the hapless boyfriend or husband who means well and loves his girl, but can’t do anything about the fact that she’s tasted “better fruit.” The viewer has gone from being the holder of power to being a victim, and the fact that such a scenario has been popular makes me believe that there is a similar feeling of helplessness in those watching.

To me, it doesn’t feel like an extension of the whole “nice guy” phenomenon where girls supposedly prefer jerks, nor is it about affirming the idea that “women are sluts.” I especially don’t believe it’s what the viewers of NTR actually want in reality, and I don’t even think humiliation is the main factor for its relative popularity. Instead, I find it to be more related to perceptions of inherent or fundamental power, in this case represented by the fact that the viewer will be told that the other man has a larger, more satisfying penis that can erase even love itself. In other words, no matter what you have, you may be lacking in the one area where it matters most.

Whether they are in a relationship or not, I think guys into this sort of thing may find a strange kind of comfort in the belief that they are basically powerless or that love is balanced precariously on the fact that the girl has never experienced something better, which may even possibly relate to the appeal of the “virgin” (but we’ll put that aside for this post). To some extent, it may be similar to having a conspiracy theory confirmed or the tension from a horror movie where the main characters are inevitably doomed.

Another possible interpretation might be found in a Japanese critical line of thought concerning lolicon as it was defined back in 80s, girls drawn in a cute, round style reminiscent of Tezuka, as opposed to using a more realistic Gekiga-esque style for portraying females. Here, it is said that the men who enjoy lolicon are actually projecting themselves not onto the man having sex with the girl, but onto the girl herself. The helplessness of the girl is not a preference for weaker girls, but a source of (sexual) comfort for those who feel as weak as those girls.

If that is the case, then NTR may be a sign of men feeling weaker than before, or fearing the danger of the world around them. In this new, harsher time and place, even the comfort of identifying with the woman is taken away now that she is another thing for a man to have and lose. He is made to feel even more powerless. NTR may then be a reflection of some kind of growing discontent or discomfort.

I don’t know if either of the ideas I presented above are actually valid, let alone comprehensive, and the popularity of NTR might just stem from it having more than one type of appeal. In other words, it may have the ability to hit different people in different places, but I do think fear is a significant factor in many of them.

The “Curse” of Redline’s Aesthetic

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Ever since before its actual release, Redline has been getting a lot of buzz among anime reviewers who have noted the look of the film, incredibly unique especially in today’s anime environment with a good deal of exquisite animation and attention to detail. The crowds are full of life and interesting alien designs. The vehicles used for racing are all incredibly stylish and showcase the wide array of personalities in the film. Redline oozes style and panache. However, for as refreshing as Redline‘s art is, it appears to be a double-edged sword through no fault of its own.

The “problem” with Redline‘s art is that it apparently makes people think the movie has no story, that it’s nothing but a pretty face, and has little to offer people who are interested in characterization and narrative. This is a mistake.

I’ll explain what I mean by just using the introduction to the film.

The movie begins with the Yellow Line race, a preliminary to the main “Redline” race which everyone in the galaxy looks forward to. The main character is Sweet JP, and based on the fact that it’s the start of the film, it’s easy to assume that we’ll know what will happen. If it’s a race designed to make JP look impressive, he’ll win. If he’s supposed to look like an underdog, he’ll lose. But then Redline throws us two seemingly contradictory bits of information. First, JP is a notorious for purposely throw races for profit. Second, JP really loves to race and has a passion for high-speed shenanigans. Just from that bit of information, the outcome of the race becomes ambiguous, as does JP’s character. How can a guy who fixes races enjoy himself behind the wheel that much? It gives Sweet JP a sense of mystery, and as the Yellow Line race builds up towards its climax, the question isn’t simply “will JP win or lose?” but rather “what kind of person is JP?” Would he give up money for the opportunity to enter Redline? It makes for a compelling protagonist, and it’s done with a good degree of subtlety.

I think part of the issue might be that Redline‘s frenetic, intense, and to some extent macho style makes people think that a show like that can’t have some heart, and even if the reviewers think otherwise, it doesn’t come across in the way they talk about it. While I do think that the aesthetic of Redline is such a prominent part of the film that if you dislike the way it looks you probably won’t enjoy it, I strongly believe that someone who is merely neutral towards the look of Redline can still get a ton of enjoyment out of it. Let’s not forget those potential viewers.

Ogiue Maniax on the Veef Show

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I recorded a podcast over at the Veef Show just this past weekend with Andrew of Collection DX fame, and it is up for your listening pleasure.

We talk about a number of topics, but it mainly focuses on things like space travel, the state of anime, and philosophizing about that most sacred of subjects, mecha anime. For reference, my Code Geass post that we mention is this one.

Apologies for the background noise on my end. If you’re curious, that’s the sound of Leidens Ontzet.

So in summary, this:

Plus this:

The End of Kaiji 2 and…Akagi???

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Kaiji 2 has ended, and while I won’t spoil any of the things that happen in the show, I want to point your attention to a particular moment in the final episode.

Here you have what looks to be a bunch of messages from artists/staff members/etc. with stuff related to Kaiji. But take a closer look up above.

Two Akagi images! And not just that, but the drawing on the left has some writing.

アカギ再び!!

or

Akagi Once Again!!

Is that a message of desire, or is it a hint of something to come?

I don’t want to get my hopes too up, but the possibility is there…

I was also amused by this:

The Interaction of Mecha Fandom and Code Geass as Mecha/Not-Mecha

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I was listening to the most recent episode of the Veef Show, where the argument that Code Geass is not a “robot” show came up by way of another podcaster, Anime World Order‘s Daryl Surat. It’s an argument that I’ve heard before from Daryl, whether it was through AWO itself or just talking with him online, and it all hinges on a simple statement: A show which does not focus primarily on robots cannot be called a “robot anime.” The direction the fanbase of Code Geass takes, one that emphasizes the characters in a variety of ways such that arguments about attractiveness and character motivations occur side by side, is used as supporting evidence. Seeing that I just appeared on the Speakeasy Podcast and endorsed Code Geass as a solid mecha show for people who feel a little put off by mecha though, I figured that it would be a good idea for me to say something. Also because I enjoy both the Veef Show and AWO and they’re cool dudes.

While I’m on the side that says Code Geass is a mecha show, I’m not writing this to argue in its favor.  Where one person draws the line between genres (or whether they choose to draw them at all) is predicated to a certain extent on their own preferences (the reason I put the qualifier of “a certain extent” is that obviously a show with zero robots and zero mentions or implications of robots would have a hard time justifying itself as one), and that argument can just go back and forth with no signs of budging. It happens to all sorts of genres, particularly science fiction, which may be appropriate given the subject at hand, but I’ll leave that alone for now. What I really want to do is look at some of the deeper layers of meaning behind the above argument about why Code Geass isn’t a mecha show, as I think it says some things about the anxiety that exists in a fanbase for a genre which perhaps fears irrelevancy. I do not think Daryl necessarily feels this way, but underlying questions still exist within.

The notion that Code Geass does not fall into the genre of “giant robots” is based on the level of presence that mecha possesses within that series. While they appear in virtually every episode in some way or another, they are not integrated into the main thrust of the story, thus the show does not attract fans through its robots, at least not in comparatively great numbers. Given this view, the first underlying element of this argument is a question, “Why isn’t Code Geass emphasizing the mecha?”

The answer can be presented with varying degrees of cynicism, and I will show two here on somewhat opposing ends. The first version is that their goal is to pander to a larger anime fanbase by placing importance on those character traits previously mentioned. Mecha are thrown in for flavor but not much else. The second version is that giant robots for the sake of giant robots do not capture the attention of a wide enough audience. Whether you’re more inclined to express this same idea as the former or as the latter, the commonality between them is the fact that giant robots as a genre, be they super or real or some kind of hybrid, just aren’t that popular anymore. So then the next question that comes up is, “Why aren’t robots popular?”

I don’t have the answer to that. All I can say is, for fans who got into anime because of giant robots, or those who lived in a period where mecha shows made up such a huge part of industry output that it became one of the genres inextricably linked to anime, the idea that robots do not capture the general viewing population’s imagination can be a bitter pill to swallow. The properties of anime that are bringing in fans now may not be what brought people to the table in previous eras. As soon as what you thought was popular no longer is, and you can’t quite figure out why things have changed, it can be baffling. How you reason through this change can depend on how you feel towards what has supplanted your old favorites, and it can be conveyed with different degrees of discontent.

At this point, it’s important to remember that giant robot shows that place enormous amounts of emphasis on the robots themselves and their influence on the story as a whole still do exist and are still being made. The problem with them, however, is that they are few in number, and that as a niche genre it appeals to a dwindling hardcore fanbase. I know that Daryl is also aware of this issue, as must be a great number of mecha fans whether they consciously realize it or not, and embodied in that feeling is the uncomfortableness of having gone from riches to rags, from being one of the premiere fanbases to a minority. I find that in actuality, the negative reaction towards categorizing Code Geass as a “robot anime” comes not from simply definition semantics and pedantry, but from what I think is perhaps the most central question underlying everything: “Why aren’t Code Geass and other shows doing more to convince people to like giant robots?” With that, giant robot shows must thus not only appeal to fans who already like the genre but also act as ambassadors to people who are less receptive.

For that, I point once again to that Speakeasy episode, because the whole purpose of that podcast was to talk about mecha shows that are capable of appealing not to simply those who are unfamiliar with the genre and just need to be exposed to it, but to people who have been burned by giant robots in the past. With some shows, the mere presence of robots can be enough for people to say “no thanks,” but if Code Geass attracts this large fanbase that is willing to stay even with robots continuously present within the show, then it must be doing something to not have them outright rejected. Perhaps all that is happening is that the robots are being conveniently ignored, but before people can even carry the potential to love giant robots, they should be able to tolerate them first.

Have you seen the “V8 VFusion?” It’s a drink whose purpose is to mask its vegetable content with fruity flavor. It’s even advertised by showing people who don’t like veggies drinking and enjoying it. You can make an argument that it’s not really a vegetable juice and you could even probably make a convincing case of it, but then I have to wonder about how much that distinction really matters.

Your First Ogiue Maniax Contest Winner

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About a month ago, I opened up a contest here at Ogiue Maniax to give away my favorite anime ever, Galaxy Express 999 (and also to give away Adieu Galaxy Express 999). In order to enter, you simply had to leave a comment talking about your favorite example of an anime or manga character growing up. I received many good entries, and it was actually difficult deciding who would ultimately win, but in the end I managed to narrow it down to one.

Congratulations, arianime.

I’ll let the winner speak for herself.

From a recent anime I watched, I’d have to say that Jomy from “Terra E…” is a perfect candidate for this question. When we first meet him in the series, he is, like many sci-fi protagonists, a sheltered child in a dystopian world (only he doesn’t know it). Over the course of a 26 episode story (and an amazingly short 3 volume manga!), he develops from this child to a leader responsible for the fate of an entire race of people. Most intriguingly, this growth comes with all the troubling moral ambiguity of adulthood.

As an adolescent, Jomy struggles with his unasked-for-power and its implied responsibilities to lead a lost tribe, whether he–or they–likes it or not. After all, Uncle Ben says it best: “With great power comes great responsibility.” Typical (but wonderful) sci-fi/hero movie fodder.

Once he overcomes his frustration at his apparent loss of freedom and decides to accept his duty to lead, Jomy has to learn how to actually do so. Along the way, he finds that his decisions–or rather, indecisions–have life-and-death consequences that he cannot foresee. While he naturally places great weight on emotion and sentiment, he soon realizes that sometimes, these life-affirming things also have immense costs.

His growth as a skillful leader, however, is not without repercussions. In fact, it takes him to deeply questionable places. At one point, he makes the grim decision to kill an entire squadron of surrendered POWs. Although it is clearly a difficult decision for him to make, we never see him waver from this decision or express regret. He internalizes the responsibility for this decision and forges on forward. To him, his charge to take his people to a promised land–a charge that has, in essence, been made for him by the sacrifice of others–has grown to something heftier than his own moral salvation.

The story presents this aspect of his development without necessarily validating it. If anything, it raises the question of whether he has gone too far–whether the responsibility he feels towards those who have gone before him has taken him to a place from whence he cannot return. Without spoiling too much, at one point the audience is made to ask, “were all these struggles and decisions made on a false premise and for an false promise?” The terrifying retort, of course, is “What if they are? Can you still justify them?”

Isn’t that a question that every adult needs to answer for his or her most difficult decisions?

 This response had a lot to it, but I was mainly struck by the description of Jomy as a figure who had to make sacrifices in the name of his own people, but that he never regrets his decisions or actions, because he cannot afford to do so. That said, I don’t think this is the only way for a child to “grow up,” but in this instance I thought it rung well.

arianime, I’ll be e-mailing you soon with the specifics of delivery and such. I hope you find the Galaxy Express 999 to be a journey, a never-ending journey.

A journey to the stars!

What a cocky saucy monkey this one is. All the gods were-

Scratch that last part.