Spotted Flower has always been a difficult series to suss out what the story is trying to say, if anything at all. What once began as a thinly veiled what-if pairing of two Genshiken characters has morphed into a crazy tale of adultery, inadequacy, and a cast of characters where monogamy is rare and polyamory is chaotic and unpredictable. Volume 4 continues this trend, spotlighting all the unusual relationships that have arisen. And while I haven’t consistently reviewed Spotted Flower over the years, this one has a lot of Ogiue—er, Ogino-sensei—so I have an extra reason to write about it.
Last year, I presented a panel at Otakon about Kio Shimoku’s works, and during my research, I came to realize that Genshiken is actually somewhat of an outlier in terms of his catalogue. Most manga Kio makes, including his debut professional manga, involves extremely messy relationships and a whole lot of emotional betrayal—and not in a fetishy way, either. So Spotted Flower is actually a kind of return to the older Kio, and the fact that it hits so hard is because the characters are Genshiken analogues.
Volume 4 has the husband (Not-Madarame) and wife (Not-Kasukabe) returning home with their newborn daughter, Saki. It’s not long after the husband had a one-night stand with Asaka-sensei (Not-Hato), so he’s on-edge the whole time, and literally still feeling it in the ass. The wife doesn’t suspect anything at first, especially because Asaka was very thorough in cleaning up, but the slightest hint of perfume on just one of the husband’s sweaters—as well as some pointed questions later—have her suspecting foul play. The rest of the volume involves the husband and wife reaching out to different friends to express their worries while those friends, in turn, grapple with their own complicated situations. Also, Endou (Asaka’s editor) discovers that Hato has a penis, learns about Asaka sleeping with their beloved senpai, and inadvertently spills the beans to Ogino and Not-Sue.
I think it’s important to lay down just how convoluted the web of relations is in this series. The husband is married to the wife, who just recently had their kid, but the husband slept with Asaka out of a sense of inferiority over the wife’s ex, Not-Kousaka. Asaka is in a relationship with Not-Yajima, who knew well in advance what Asaka was planning and was generally okay with it. Not-Kousaka always really wants to have a threesome, but can’t get any, and it’s probably why he’s no longer with the wife. Ogino is living with Not-Sue and is in a physical relationship with her, but also has a real thing going on with Not-Sasahara, whom she adores. Not-Sue is extremely jealous of Not-Sasahara, and balks at the idea of them in a threesome. Not-Ohno and assumed Not-Tanaka seem to be the only ones exclusive to each other. Whew! What a situation.
One of the biggest gut punches of Volume 4 is when Not-Sasahara explains in clear detail that Madarame’s worries over not matching up to Not-Kousaka are totally unfounded. Specifically, it turns out that the wife’s ex just straight-up left after seeing the baby—which means that he basically gave up, and confirms that the husband fucked up 10,000%. What’s amazing to me is that it’s easy to see where the husband is coming from, but just as easy to acknowledge that he’s garbage.
This also makes me wonder if something like this could’ve happened to the real Madarame and Kasukabe in Genshiken. Fans loved the idea of opposites attracting, but it wouldn’t have been out of the question for Madarame to feel like he could never match up to Kousaka. Madarame and Sue are on similar wavelengths, after all. However, there’s also a lot that’s different about Spotted Flower, and it feels as if this is maybe a symptom of how their world is, instead of the cause. Another notable change is that Endou (who is jokingly implied to be the Yoshitake of this series) never went to the same college as the rest of the cast.
During this volume, Ogino initially tries to suss the truth out of her editor boyfriend, and when he refuses to budge, she lays one hell of a deal out: in exchange for telling her what the husband spoke to him about, she will agree to a threesome with her and her blond girlfriend. The look on his face is one of deep, soul- and libido-igniting conflict, and the fact that he apparently doesn’t give in is testament to this character. Ironically, it probably makes Ogino like him even more.
It can be difficult to figure out Kio’s intent, but there’s perhaps a clue in the extra story provided in this volume. The wife is talking about how she read Ogino’s new manga, which is more out and out BL. The husband responds, “Isn’t it good that she’s doing what she wants?” The wife follows up and says, “But I think her previous work was better.” Maybe Spotted Flower is just unchecked Kio Shimoku, for better or worse.
Given that Spotted Flower chapters come out at a snail’s pace, it’s wild how far the story has come. It’s really impossible to tell how things will resolve, but the way it portrays the differences between willing unorthodox relationships and those built on deception means things are probably going to get worse before they get better. The fact that a child is involved makes the sting that much more severe.
PS: I managed to get both a general purchase bonus, as well as a Toranoana store-exclusive one featuring Ogino and her blonde, Sue-esque roommate. Does it count as Ogiue merchandise when it’s technically not Ogiue?
We don’t get much Genshiken news these days, but the Hashikko Ensemble official Twitter account recently tweeted about Yamamoto Nozomi, the voice actor for Ogiue Chika in Genshiken Nidaime, congratulating her on getting married. Accompanying the tweet is the drawing by Kio Shimoku of Ogiue in a wedding dress seen above.
Yamamoto is the second actor to play Ogiue, after Mizuhashi Kaori. Yamamoto’s other notable roles include Jogasaki Rika in The iDOLM@STER Cinderella Girls and Bouhatei Tetora in Joshiraku.
There’s also an interaction in the replies where Yamamoto thanks Kio, only for the account to mention that it’s not Kio but rather his manager (who she’s met before) handling social media. However, the Twitter account did have a message for Yamamoto from Kio:
“You did so, so much for the anime. When I found out you got married, I had to draw something. May you have many years of happiness!” (Kio)
At the end of every year here at Ogiue Maniax, I pick my favorite characters of the year. Usually, it’s one male character and one female character, but exceptions have been made for, say, nonbinary characters or, well, personified abs. So now that I’ve picked characters from 2010 all the way through 2019, it’s time to decide the best characters of the decade!
Note that I’ve taken three important characters out of the running—Ogiue Chika from Genshiken Nidaime, Daidouji Tomoyo from Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card, and Yang Wen-Li (Legend of the Galactic Heroes: De Neue These). The reason is simple: They are three of my absolute favorite characters of all time, and I would easily pick them if they were available as options. Ogiue, Tomoyo, and Yang deserve their own hall of fame. so to keep this competition fair, they’ve been excluded.
Of these two decisions, one was incredibly easy to make and one I mulled over for many hours leading up to this. Kurumi Erika was a no-brainer—her energy, ability to inspire action and positive change, her all-too-human behavior, and her legendary facial expressions all make her an unforgettable character in my eyes. She’s simply amazing in a way few characters are, and it’s clear that many anime fans agree with me, given her ranking as the third most popular Precure in the recent massive NHK poll.
As for Armin, it was a closer call, but what ultimately made me land on him is what he represents in Attack on Titan. The series’s world is one where fear reigns and unthinking violence is often born out of the frustration of not knowing if you’ll survive to the next day. But Armin Arlert shows the value of having a more considerate and broad-minded view of the world, and the way he complements Eren and Mikasa further highlights how important and necessary it is to have individuals like Armin in the world to subtly challenge assumptions. He’s brave without being brash and thoughtful without being hopelessly indecisive.
Erika and Armin are characters who I wish could inspire many more both in media and in people themselves, and I declare them my favorite anime characters of the 2010s.
Another decade of anime and manga has passed, which means it’s time to reflect on all the things that have happened in and around our favorite Japanese art and entertainment forms. With more anime than any time previous, there’s an overwhelming amount of history to look at, so I’m going to be focusing on what I consider interesting and/or important trends.
I also covered some of 2010–2019 through my review of my old predictions, so for the sake of keeping a long post from getting further out of hand, I’ve kept further discussion of topics there to a relative minimum.
Bookended by Tragedy
This decade more or less began and ended with painful events that have shaped and will continue to shape Japan and its anime and manga industries for years to come. March 11, 2011 was the day that a combined earthquake and tsunami struck the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant, causing nuclear meltdowns. July 18, 2019 was the date of the arson attack on Kyoto Animation, killing over 30 people, injuring even more, and leaving the famed studio’s main building in flames.
The Fukushima triple disaster was brought in part by nature but also human negligence at the highest levels of authority, and it destroyed villages, displaced people from their homes, took lives, and contaminated land and water. The area, one known for its rice crop in a nation where rice is a staple food, had to deal with the all-too-familiar fear that nuclear power conjures up in Japan via Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Fukushima’s consequences are far, far bigger than any one industry, but that’s precisely why they have had an indelible effect on anime and manga. Suddenly, there was the realization that whatever anti-nuclear messages existed in pop culture weren’t enough. It was almost too poetic a timing that Coppelion, a manga about genetically engineered girls having to rescue human survivors in a post-meltdown Tokyo, began only months prior to Fukushima. Anime such as Madoka Magica that were aired during that period suddenly had their surrounding contexts changed.
But the disaster also brought support from across the anime and manga industries to Fukushima and the surrounding Tohoku region. Creators left messages encouraging and praying for a revival, and as the land has started to improve (though to what extent is up for debate), there’s an active push by the government to encourage tourism and purchase of local goods. Anime and manga also play a role here too as part of the campaign to bring people back.
In contrast, the Kyoto Animation attack was like a direct strike to the heart and soul of the anime industry. Not only was it the worst domestic attack since World War II—even worse than the Tokyo sarin gas attack—but KyoAni has been a pioneer of better wages and better gender equality in anime in addition to their creating popular and critically acclaimed works. It’s unclear how the anime and manga industries will react to this over time (aside from better security), but the biggest question mark will be about what could have been.
There was a lot of talent lost, notably The Disappearance of Suzumiya Haruhiand Kobayashi-san’s Dragon Maid director Takemoto Yasuhiro, and it’s sad that they will have the chance to keep working and creating. There is one bright side, however: KyoAni has started up their animation school again, and their mission to prepare the next generation is more vital than ever.
An aside: One odd bit of humor to come out all this was that the days after the disasters, the only commercial on Japanese TV was apparently ads telling people to greet each other more. These drove Japanese viewers nuts, so some of the more artistic ones started turning the animal mascots in these commercials into transforming robots.
Fujoshi Integration and the Permanence of the Otaku Hero
Back when I originally started Ogiue Maniax in 2007, one thing I was interested in was the portrayal of otaku characters, and by extension the fujoshi characters that began appearing more and more at the time. Going into 2010, this feeling was still quite strong, but as I continued to keep an eye on series with otaku in them, it became harder and harder to keep up. The Fujoshi Files, my on-going archiving of fujoshi characters, is on semi-hiatus right now because I’ve simply been overwhelmed by the fact that you just never know when a fujoshi character will show up for two episodes in an obscure TV series. In other words, otaku characters aren’t just commonplace now—they’re arguably an over-saturated archetype.
This is especially the case with the isekai genre and fantasy light novel series, where having an otaku of some kind (it doesn’t necessarily have to be an anime otaku) is de rigueur for the kinds of power fantasies that are ubiquitous in that realm. But the prevalence of the Otaku hero isn’t even limited to that particular world. Onoda from Yowamushi Pedal and Deku from the wildly popular MyHero Academia, both straightforward shounen leads, have otaku minds. At this point, sometimes it’s easier to ask whether a protagonist isn’t an otaku.
Moe in Moderation
Throughout the 2000s, it was “moe” this, “moe” that. There were haters, there were supporters (me included), and those caught in the middle. In 2019, however, it’s past its prime (at least in the old familiar form) to the extent that the term itself has faded immensely in the otaku lexicon.
In hindsight, I think of moe as like a food with a very intense and peculiar flavor that is probably good in reasonable doses. The problem is that people gorged on it until they got sick, and had to eventually learn when less is more. The occasional smorgasbord happens, not now you see hints or accents of moe in more things—music, horror, and even the most serious and mature titles. It’s part of why I think sports series have started to gain traction in the United States when there was like success in the past: people realized that the core appeal of sports anime and manga was less the athletics themselves and more the human drama that comes with exploring characters’ weaknesses and struggles. Even a softer shounen hero like Tanjiro in Demon Slayer has moe qualities that quite possibly outstrip even his sister’s tremendous qualities.
I one commented to anime podcaster and ex-Crunchyroll guy Evan Minto that Eureka Seven was a moe show. He found it absurd, but I was serious, because moe came from empathizing with its characters vulnerabilities. Just because a character can be moe doesn’t mean they’re useless, and I think that’s a big lesson that has been taken to heart by anime and manga as a whole.
Plus, you can still totally find all-you-can-moe buffets whenever you feel the need to go nuts.
American-Style Superheroes
Perhaps due to the success of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the American conception of the superhero (in contrast to the Kamen Rider, for example) is now a regular part of anime and manga. Putting aside the Marvel and DC co-productions, this decade has seen Tiger & Bunny, One Punch Man, and My Hero Academiaall reach enormous success (albeit not always for the same reasons). You also have series like Heroman, and the fact that Disney’s Big Hero 6 film has a Japanese protagonist perhaps says something about the desire for international appeal.
It’s interesting that so many specifically embrace an American aesthetic, whether it’s red, white, and blue motifs in its characters or American-style cities as settings, and it really speaks to the fact that they’re aiming for that “capes” aesthetic. However, what’s even more noteworthy is the way these manga and anime have been embraced by superhero comics fans as being better at telling superhero stories than many current American comics.
Superheroes also create an amazing bridge for being American comics fans to come to manga and for manga fans to check out American comics. It’s perhaps easier than ever to transition between the two.
Steps Towards Mainstreaming LGBT
Queer romances have long been a part of manga and anime—Hagio Moto’s Heart of Thomas from the 1970s is generally considered the first one shounen ai manga. The portrayal of BL and yuri can differ significantly from real relationships, with the former often being for the pleasure of non-queer audiences, but this openness has attracted many fans, and there are more and more works that try to support a queer audience as well. But Japan is still in many ways a conservative culture, and positive mainstream depictions of non-heteronormative characters can come with a lot of baggage.
While there is still a ways to go, there is a general trend towards more consideration for LGBT characters these past ten years. Gatchaman Crowds, for example, features three characters each with different types of non-cishet expression, going beyond the original Gatchaman and Berg Katze’s dual genders while keeping them respectful. Genshiken Nidaime (aka Second Season aka Second Generation) has a crossdressing fudanshi with complicated feelings at the center of it’s story who tries to navigate the difference between BL fandom and homosexuality. Yuri!!! On Ice features the gradual development of a clearly gay relationship as its core, but its lack of standard BL flourishes engendered a debate about whether it should be called BL at all. Tagame Gengoroh’s My Brother’s Husband won both Japanese and international acclaim.
One stand-out example of LGBT becoming a little more mainstream in anime and manga, to me, is how it’s been handled in the Precure franchise. While it’s always had its yuri fans, and Kira Kira Precure A La Mode even strongly hinted at something between two of its characters, it’s 2018’s Hugtto! Precure that made an entire subplot out of the burgeoning gay relationship between two minor characters—one of whom is implied to struggle with his self-directed homophobia. While the franchise still doesn’t have the courage to say the word “gay,” it at least has these characters holding hands, giving hearts to each other, and telling presumably very young viewers to not let anyone else define who they are. Sailor Moon had Neptune and Uranus, but this is another layer.
From Sekai-kei to Game-like Isekai, Ironic Isekai, and Beyond
In the previous decade, one of the popular genres of Japanese fiction, especially in the realm of anime and manga but also light novels and games, was sekai-kei. Literally meaning “world-style,” it’s actually almost the opposite of what you probably think. Instead of being focused on world-building, it’s about stories where the outcome of the world rests upon the relationship between two characters. I would call Haruhian example of sekai-kei because their fate rests upon Haruhi and how Kyon interacts with her.
I feel that, since 2010 or maybe even a little sooner, we’ve been seeing fewer and fewer sekai-kei stories. In their place has been a surge in isekai (transported to another world stories) that’s impossible to ignore.
Isekai is nothing new, and there are examples in modern Japanese fiction dating back to the 1970s. Even Gundam director Tomino’s Byston Well series is an isekai. The big difference now, however, has been the game-like approach to isekai. Whether the hero is literally trapped in a video game (Sword Art Online, Log Horizon) or where it’s simply an extremely game-like universe (KonoSuba, Re:ZERO, Overlord), there’s a presumption about RPGs as a common-knowledge experience. Here, the fate of the world usually rests on the hero who’s simultaneously underpowered and overpowered. Rather than necessarily being about exploring the new world, these stories have been mostly either power fantasies or responses to power fantasies.
Japanese scholar Azuma Hiroki wrote about “game-like realism” in the sense of a reality with no beginning, middle, and end, and plenty of alternate realities. While it doesn’t map perfectly, current isekai can be seen as a kind of attempt to wrangle these notions back into a straightforward, albeit open-ended and often meandering format.
Isekai has gotten so prevalent that some online novel contests have even begun to forbidisekai entries. But it also means that it’s ripe for parody. The Devil is a Part-Timer! is a reverse-isekai where a hero and a demon lord end up in modern Japan. The Hero is Overpowered But Overly Cautious plays on an idea that many RPG players are familiar with: making absolutely sure everything is perfect to the point of virtual neurosis. They’re not all winners, but there’s a desire to explore isekai as an archetype, and it’ll be interesting to see how far this goes.
The Ascendance of Mobile Games
Part of the story of the 2010s the world over is the rise of mobile games, and in Japan this translated to character-focused gacha. These digital waifu and husbando slot machines are a powerful thing, and the devotion they engender can veer straight into “gambling addiction” territory, but it also can’t be denied how much of an influence they’ve had on anime, manga, and fandom.
Consider the Fate franchise, which went from being once defined by its original visual novel to being known primarily through the absurdly successful and profitableFate/Grand Order mobile game. Also look at Granblue Fantasy, which helped make the company Cygames into a major player—the Granblue Fantasy anime shows a budget few can even dream of.
Even The iDOLM@STER, which began as console games, has in part taken on new life by having a virtually limitless selection of idols to obtain through its apps. Love Live! found success through various channels, but there are many people who became fans solely through the School Idol Festival game. And Kantai Collection technically started as a browser game, but it’s cut from a similar mold, and it’s notable that it’s become one of the franchises that dominates Comic Market.
There have been tons of light novel anime and manga adaptations, but the amount of works based on mobile games steadily increased over the decade as well. This doesn’t mean they’re inherently bad—Rage of Bahamut Genesis is one that sticks out to me as exceptional—but it’s certainly become a crowded field where “adaptation as advertisement” and “adaptation as mark of prestige” exist in the same space.
Anime as Faithful Reproduction Instead of Creative Interpretation
In decades past, whenever there was an anime adaptation of something with multiple paths—a dating sim, for instance—the common approach was to synthesize all of the different routes into a single story with the canon heroine being the winner. But starting in 2010 with Amagami SS (or possibly something even sooner) it started to become more common to adapt every path. Each couple of episodes was basically a different what-if where the protagonist ends up with a different girl. The most extreme version of this might be the movies fully dedicated to the alternate stories of Fate/Stay Night, Unlimited Blade Works and Heaven’s Feel.
In a way, it’s an extension of what we saw with Kyoto Animation’s adaptations of Key games. While those shows still synthesized all the routes, there was a more active adherence to the look and feel of the source material, right down to using the original theme songs. Anime, rather than trying to do its own thing with the material given, is more likely to try and stick to the script. Filler arcs or anime-original material were out, and season delays were in, for better or worse. 2009’s Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood (intentionally made to follow the manga’s story more than the first anime) also set a precedent.
Fantastic Remakes
Not everything is about adhering to a source material, however. While nostalgia is a strong force in media and entertainment, it’s still possible for a remake or re-imagining is able to go well beyond and turn into something unique and special. Every decade has its own fair share of excellent revivals, but I found the 2010s to be full of especially smart and creative takes on classic franchises. The aforementioned Gatchaman Crowds took the idea of the superhero team and pushed it into an age of social media and gamification. Devilman Crybaby is essentially the original Devilman manga retold, the signature art style of Yuasa Masaaki gave it new life and also highlighted the fact that a lot of the 1970s manga’s theme resonate just as much, if not more today. The Rebuild of Evangelionmovies have all been impressive and have dared to go in strange directions, though we’re not actually seeing the conclusion until 2020 rolls around. In the most on-brand move possible, director Anno Hideaki became depressed after the third film, and it wasn’t until he directed the excellent Shin Godzilla (another update to a classic franchise) that he found the spark to go back to Shinji and friends.
Official Simultranslations
Once, getting translated anime and manga the day after release in Japan was a foolish dream. Then, with the advent of high-speed internet it became technically possible—but it was the domain of speed subbers and speed scanlators, with the requisite decline in quality. But now we’ve had a decade of not just quick releases but ones that are official, whose success can and will be noticed by Japan. Crunchyroll, HiDive, and Comixology are among the many resources available to fans, and while Netflix is often not technically a simulstream most of the time, its presence in the world of online streaming can’t be denied.
This is partially a tale of the direction of technology. More smartphones and better tablets mean streaming decent-quality images is more likely than ever before. Gone are the specific limitations of the past that made trying to view anime and manga a chore. It’s also the story of Japan being dragged into the current age, as much as its companies (especially manga) have tried to resist the digitizing of these mediums.
The amount of legal digital anime and manga options is ever increasing even in Japan. Comic Walker and Book Walker make following new releases almost trivial. Bandai Channel is more expansive than ever. Many manga publishers have series that start off as free webcomics now. Notably, the second iteration of One Punch Man started on Tonari no Young Jump. The amount of digital users keeps rising around the world, and it’ll likely not stop for a long time.
What Lies Ahead
While it’s mere coincidence, the fact that Japan is heading into the next decade of anime and manga alongside a newly coronated emperor seems poetic. For Part 3 of the 2010–2019 series, I’ll be giving my predictions as to where I think anime and manga will go in 2020 onwards.
Otakon has long been the anime convention I look forward to most every year. I like how it’s always had an great balance between fan and industry where neither side feels neglected, as well as a panel track that encourages in-depth exploration of topics. This year was no exception, with both great guests and a variety of interesting fan panels. Otakon has also settled into the Walter E. Washington Convention Center quite comfortably at this point, and I have few if any complaints about the logistics of the actual location. The only gaffe I will point out is that there’s still a good deal of miscommunication when it comes to autograph lines, but other than that, it was pretty smooth sailing.
With that said, on to the rest of the con report!
Interviews
I conducted interviews with two voice actors at Otakon: industry veteran Inoue Kikuko (Belldandy, Aina Sahalin, Kazami Mizuho) and legend Furuya Toru (Amuro Ray, Tuxedo Mask, Pegasus Seiya). They’ve been getting some traction on Japanese Twitter, which I find thrilling.
As an aside, I love the press area at Otakon in DC. Not only is it a prime cosplay photography space, making it a lively aspect of the con, but it’s so much more convenient than the old one, and makes it significantly easier to schedule activities.
Panels
Frequent Otakon guest and anime industry super veteran Maruyama Masao had a couple of panels where he went through pretty much every anime he’s ever produced. Most of it was fairly mainstream work from his three studios—Madhouse, Mappa, and M2—but there were a few rare gems like a short by Rintaro and Otomo about them bicycle racing each other. He also mentioned at what point he first started working with various directors and creators. Another thing I came away with was how the sex-and-violence-laden Kawajiri Yoshiaki OVAs of the 80s and 90s had hilarious trailers that would abruptly shift from non-stop action to claiming a beautiful love story was in there, complete with cheesy romantic pop.
Anime in Non-Anime was a fun and entertaining panel from Anime World Order‘s Gerald. Not only was it full of laughs, especially when it came to the news coverage of the Naruto run for the Storming Area 51 Facebook group, but it put into perspective how deceptively large the anime industry really is in terms of reach.
Am I Too Old for This? was a pleasant surprise. Rather than being nostalgic commiseration or an empty pep talk, the panel was an informed look at how the concept of adulthood can coexist with the seeming childishness of fandom. The main takeaway was that managing responsibility, whether that’s taking care of yourself or others (or acknowledging when you need help from others), is the contemporary benchmark of adulthood, and that fandom is compatible with this. There was also an important point about not revealing your power level immediately to uninitiated acquaintances, because you have to deal with the reality of how anime fans are perceived in general society.
Animation in Anime by Evan Minto and Nate A.M. was a varied look at both the history and implementation of conveying the illusion of movement in Japanese animation. I think the panel did a good job of dispelling the notion that there is only one good way to animate, and detailing how the particular challenges of animating in Japan (primarily budget and labor issues) resulted in creators having to do more with less. I wonder how many people came out of it eager to learn about legendary animator Kanada Yoshinori, whose distinct style lives on in the likes of Obari Masami, Studio Trigger, and others.
In 20 Years Ago: Anime in 1999 Daryl Surat of Anime World Order looked back on the year 1999, and the fact that it’s been twenty years alarms and frightens me. Regardless of my own insecurity over the passage of time, it was an effective panel at putting anime’s history into perspective. Some tech hiccups interfered with the panel somewhat, but it didn’t impact the overall enjoyment. He also showed a willingness to not put creators on an unnecessary pedestal, as he called out a famous director who likely exploited one of his voice actors.
My Panels
Nine years ago, I did a panel about this blog’s namesake, Ogiue from Genshiken, and since then, I hadn’t touched my favorite manga as a panel topic prior to Otakon 2019. But thanks to a series of rereleases of Kio Shimoku’s older manga, I was inspired to do a panel that didn’t just cover Kio’s most famous title but his entire manga career. Thus was born Genshiken & Beyond: The Works of Kio Shimoku.
Creator spotlights are not the most popular panels, so there wasn’t a large audience at first, and the next panel being JoJo’s meant those seated at the end weren’t necessarily there to see me, but I think I accomplished what I wanted in going over Kio’s varied and daring manga works. To my pleasant surprise, I even won over a harsh critic on the Otakon feedback forums.
I had a second panel as well, Star-Crossed Alien Lovers…in Robots! with Patz from The Cockpit and Alain from Reverse Thieves. It was a more relaxed panel than my Kio one, and was built around looking at various robot anime that highlight romance amid conflict. My hope is that the panel got people thinking, even a little.
For those who attended my panels, thank you, and I hope to see you next year. I’ve got some ideas in the works…!
Bradio Concert
Having watched the anime Death Parade and enjoyed its high-energy opening theme, I was looking forward to Bradio’s live performance at Otakon, and it delivered in spades. Their attitude and presentation drew me in, and their unique jazz/funk/disco-fusion style is hard not to enjoy. I loved the hell out of every song, and it’s clear the crowd did too, as I could see people practically compelled to dance to the groove. Bradio’s irresistible music is made all the better by the singer’s excellent vocals and sheer range—he pretty much did one song entirely in falsetto without losing any power.
I would see Bradio again, no doubt.
As an aside, I stopped in briefly for the Nujabes Tribute Concert, but wasn’t able to stay long enough to get a good idea of it overall.
Other Notes
I briefly stopped by the Saturday Morning Cartoons subtitled video room. Along with the dubbed video room, the idea was to replicat watching anime from the 90s with commercials. I watched Sailor Moon in Japanese, and like with so many other shows with a merchandise engine behind them, there were tons of Sailor Moon commercials during the actual show. I also got to see a commercial starring the best video game mascot ever: Segata Sanshiro. If I had more time, I would’ve liked to stay there a bit more.
Also, shout-outs to the dealer’s room booth that was selling Precure, Doremi, and classic magical girl stuff I got this fine piece of Princess Comet/Cosmic Baton Girl Comet-san merchandise, and I was definitely tempted to get more. A rare find!
Otakon 2019 is this weekend, and I recently appeared on the Reverse Thieve’s Pre-Otakon Speakeasy Podcast. We go into what panels we’re doing and what panels we’re looking forward to, so have a listen if you’re inclined and share your thoughts and expectations.
As for Ogiue Maniax’s panels, I have two this year.
Genshiken & Beyond: The Works of Kio Shimoku
Saturday, 7pm-8pm in Panel 7 (Room 146C)
Artist Kio Shimoku is best known for the manga Genshiken, but his career is filled with plenty of other fun, daring, and thought-provoking titles. Come and learn about Kio’s life, works, and artistic evolution!
Star-Crossed Alien Lovers…in Robots!
Sunday, 1245pm-145pm in Panel 5 (Room 151B)
When giant robots and romantic relationships collide, there’s bound to be chaos, drama, and more than a few messages about peace between peoples. See how some of the most iconic and fantastic mecha anime approach the perennial trope of star-crossed lovers!
It’s difficult to succinctly describe or summarize anime and manga in the Heisei era. After all, that’s a lot of time to cover, from 1989 to 2019. But when I think about the works that have come out over the past thirty years, one word keeps coming to mind: therapy.
The Heisei era is defined by many things, but one of the biggest is the bursting of the 80s bubble economy, leading Japan into a recession it’s never fully recovered from. It has affected everyone young and old, flipping norms and assumptions on their heads as the idea of a stable future weakened and crumbled. I find that many of the trends in Heisei anime reflect this uncertainty. Heisei covers the birth of healing anime. It marks the emergence of concepts in Japan like NEETs, hikikomori, and fear of declining birth rates, which then make their way into anime. Deep introspection and escape from reality alike were in full force, asking viewers whether they needed to manually get away or to find solutions.
In that struggle between therapy as problem-solving and therapy as respite, in my opinion there’s no show as emblematic as Neon Genesis Evangelion. While it takes from works past, what Evangelion does so well, and part of why its legacy has endured for so long, is that it pushes the psychological fears and doubts of its characters to the forefront, enveloping viewers in their inner worlds. Their struggle to understand themselves and navigate youth, violence, love, and lust is still powerful today. However, another significant part of Evangelion‘s legacy is the commodification of its characters, their wispy yet mature bodies the subjects of figures, posters, ad campaigns, and more. Their idealized forms themselves provide a form of fantasy that consequently flattens and simplifies their presences.
And yet, that doesn’t necessarily mean the two sides of Evangelion never mingled, and their dual influence is reflected in 21st century anime culture in major ways. Whether it’s Rei as the progenitor of the “emotionless” blue-haired girl trope or Shinji and Kaworu as an evergreen fujoshi pairing (despite, or perhaps because it only lasts one episode), the clash of consumption, creation, reflection, and escape all continue to swirl around today. It’s fitting that the Rebuild of Evangelion movies, which show the characters trying much harder to communicate with one another and overcome the cycle of doubt and despair, is set to conclude in the Reiwa era after a ten-year delay.
The anime of the past three decades hasn’t been all doom and gloom, nor has it solely been a psychological bomb shelter shielding its viewers from the world. Heisei birthed the Yuusha/Brave franchise, with its positive messages (albeit with the occasional sprinkling in of anti-toy-company cynicism). It covered Sailor Moon and Ojamajo Doremi and Precure in terms of magical girl works that give viewers a sense of hope and optimism. Perhaps the function of these shows, however, is that they also provided positive messages to young kids in a society that didn’t necessarily provide it through other means.
While anime as therapy was born out of Japan’s own recent history, I think the global success of anime in the Heisei era shows that there were people all around the world who needed it as well, myself included. As is probably the case for many reading this, my entire otaku history has been in the Heisei era, and in retrospect I have to be amazed at how much it’s shaped my life even from the perspective of “therapy.” I learned to embrace unconventional views of masculinity and femininity through Cardcaptor Sakura. I found peace and comfort (but also artistic inspiration) from Hidamari Sketch. I discovered what means to live with confidence by reading Genshiken. I made introspection a part of my life thanks to Evangelion. This won’t necessarily change just because there’s a new emperor on the throne of Japan, but I hope I can look back again in thirty years with a similar fondness.
This post was made possible thanks to Johnny Trovato. If you’d like to request a topic or support Ogiue Maniax in general, check out the Patreon.
I’m not terribly familiar with the Atelier RPG series. I’ve never played any of the games, and I didn’t even realize that Sue was cosplaying the main heroine from Atelier Meruru in a chapter of Genshiken (see above). But I was asked by one of my Patreon sponsors to write something about the games, so I decided to do some research. While I can’t even pretend to call myself an expert, what I’ve found out about the Atelier games has intrigued me, particularly the way they eschew Final Fantasy/Dragon Quest-style “save the world” scenarios.
Before I go further, I’d like to thank two YouTube channels: ValkyrieAurora, whose overview of the entire Atelier franchise allowed me to better understand the overarching themes of the games, and WeLoveGUST, whose Atelier Meruru play-through introduced me to the feel of an Atelier game. Watching them is no substitute for actually playing, of course, but they were quite helpful nevertheless.
Video games have classically had a violence issue. I don’t mean that violent video games are bad, or that they inherently corrupt people, but that fighting is a convention that’s so easily relied upon in games that it can be a kind of crutch. Fight to save your kingdom. Fight to get revenge. Fight to prove your worth. This doesn’t define all games, but those that step away from violence, also tend to go so far left-field from that world as to be considered a practically different universe. I’m talking about puzzle games like Tetris or gentler games like Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons or Animal Crossing. There’s a wide space in between those approaches (“violence solves everything” vs. “what’s violence?”), and the way the Atelier games strike a middle ground is rather fascinating.
Rather than having a looming evil that must be defeated, the narratives of Atelier games are more often based on personal growth. The key gameplay involves the player as the main character learning to make potions and other concoctions in a quest to master the discipline of alchemy. Experimentation is encouraged, and while the games can vary in terms of how demanding the clock is, they more often than not lean towards the leisurely. It’s still clearly a non-mundane environment, and there is combat involved when it comes to gathering ingredients, but violence clearly takes a backseat.
In this respect, I find myself drawn to Atelier Meruru‘s soundtrack, which is very heavy on recorder and flute usage. There’s a certain sense of innocent fun that permeates the game as a result, and it communicates a certain message, that there’s room to breathe, explore, and maybe even relax. It really sells the games well and really entices me to try out one of the games myself.
The franchise is hardly devoid of a more fantastical setting, as all of the Atelier games take place in classic fantasy settings full of magic and kings and queens, but the balance it strikes is very alluring. It’s not so far into “farm plants and drive trucks” territory as to feel like a simulation of the mundane—the games give the impression of adventure, just not in the “defeat evil” sense. At the same time, I do wonder if it can be hard to balance the niche appeal of that classic Atelier pacing with the desire to draw in a more mainstream audience. In her video, ValkyrieAurora talks about how some of the games put more emphasis on going out on a quest. It makes me wonder if GUST (the company behind Atelier) thought that they needed to draw in more general RPG players, perhaps at the expense of the more core fans.
Atelier is hardly the only RPG series to try and minimize the impact and importance of violence, but its approach is a refreshing one, at least to someone like myself who didn’t really know about these games. It’s a celebration of a certain mellow pace that the world could use more of.
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This post was sponsored by Johnny Trovato. To find out how to request topics, visit the Ogiue Maniax Patreon.
A special edition of Kio Shimoku’s Kagerowic Diary (aka Kagerou Nikki) just came out last month, which prompted me to read an ebook of it I purchased ages ago. Having now finished it, I find myself reevaluating certain aspects of Kio’s more recent titles in Genshiken and Spotted Flower.
Kagerowic Diary is split into two parts. Part I concerns a female college student named Suzuki Touko (above) who seemingly has it all figured out but hides the fact that she’s a virgin from her friends. Part II follows a different woman in college, Tachihara Hatsuho (below), and the complicated web of sex, emotion, and deceit she finds herself in. To Genshiken fans, it can feel both comfortably familiar yet also exotic due to the strong emphasis on physical relationships.
Touko’s story shines new light on Genshiken, specifically the final volume of the first series. In the epilogue, the characters begin a discussion of how Saki, the sole non-otaku of the bunch and by far the most mature character, could be viewed through a moe lens. After some deliberation, Madarame says that she would have to be a virgin (Saki very clearly is not). When I previously read this scene, I thought the purpose was merely to show how Madarame’s mind works and to embarrass Saki. Now, I realize it’s actually a reference to Touko and Kagerowic Diary.
Hatsuho’s story, on the other hand, makes me feel that Spotted Flower and its adultery subplot are not as out-of-left-field as fans assumed. While it’s a far cry from Genshiken, the tangled web of love and lust in SpottedFlower is not unlike the plot of Part II in Kagerowic Diary, where Hatsuho sleeping with a male friend of pity and then discovering that her boyfriend cheated on her too (and probably has been for a while) It’s charged, it’s messy, it’s complicated. In other words, Spotted Flower is sort of a return to the old days for Kio, when writing realistic characters meant more than just realistic portrayals of awkward nerds.
In addition to Kagerowic Diary, there’s a special edition of Kio’s Yonensei (“4th-year Student”) out too. I intend to read through it and see how that other early work of his compares to his more famous material.
Here we are: the end of Genshiken. At least, that’s what we could’ve said if the sequel never came out. It’s fascinating to look at this last volume while both remembering the finality with which it hit back around 2006, and being cognizant of the developments that have occurred since then.
What is Return to Genshiken?
Genshiken is an influential manga about otaku, as well as my favorite manga ever and the inspiration for this blog, but it’s been many years since I’ve read the series. I intend to re-read Genshiken with the benefit of hindsight and see how much, if at all, my thoughts on the manga have changed.
Note that, unlike my chapter reviews for the second series, Genshiken Nidaime, I’m going to be looking at this volume by volume, using both English and Japanese versions! I’ll also be spoiling the entirety of Genshiken, both the first series and the sequel, so be warned.
Volume 9 Summary
A visit from Ohno’s American friends, a New Year’s shrine visit, a fight between Sasahara and Ogiue, and a failed confession from Madarame all lead to the finale of Genshiken: graduation for Sasahara, Kasukabe, and Kohsaka. Good times, good memories, and an open future are in store (at least, until the sequel shows up).
A New Ogiue
It surprises me that even to the very end, we’re still learning a lot about Ogiue. It might be because she’s had such a dramatic shift in her own life in the previous volume (i.e. resolving her inner turmoil and starting a relationship with Sasahara) that we’re seeing sides of her that were previously obscured.
One of the most notable qualities in Ogiue after her change is that she loves being in love. She wants Sasahara to hold her. She enjoys walking and talking. She’s easily embarrassed, so public displays of affection are out of the question, but the thrill of being with Sasahara permeates her being and helps to make every day of Ogiue’s a less angry one compared to her past. However, what becomes evident is that Ogiue did not undergo a total transformation. That anger and confrontational stubbornness is no longer omnipresent, but it’s still there, and it still fuels Ogiue when she needs it.
This quality of hers is seen in Volume 9, when Ogiue asks Sasahara (who’s now working as a manga editor) to look over her submission for a published manga magazine (Monthly Afternoon, the home of Genshiken, as we later learn). Here, we find out Ogiue tends to take criticism very personally. In her eyes, comments about the lack of a clear protagonist and a too-long introduction are attacks on her character and her ability, and she lashes out at Sasahara. But as Yabusaki points out, Ogiue’s not the type to give up easily. Motivated by rage, she revises her manga (and draws a second submission!) in a way that incorporates Sasahara’s advice. So it turns out that she’s bad at receiving criticism but great at utilizing it—a volatile combination that Sasahara somewhat laments.
The unique editor-artist/boyfriend-girlfriend relationship between Sasahara and her is another facet of Ogiue hat is revealed in this final volume. In the sequel, this dynamic is constantly referenced, even as early as the first chapter of Nidaime, making it a vital part of how they interact with each other. While I’m loathe to simplify everything into S&M relationships, there is a sort of subtle sadomasochistic quality to their relationship because they keep going through this pattern of criticism, anger, and renewal, only to come back for more. But given that Ogiue’s both willingly letting herself get mad and taking it out on Sasahara, it’s not like there’s a clear-cut “S” or “M,” if you can even use those labels at all.
As an aside, Yajima in Nidaime goes through a similar thing, creating a highly entertaining manga after getting fed up by her lack of apparent talent compared to Hato, but I wonder if that’s less anger and more frustration.
Silence
In Chapter 53, “Confession,” Madarame runs into Kasukabe alone in the club room, conjuring up the memory of when he first started to develop a crush on her. Sure that she’d be forever out of his reach, Madarame elects to stay quiet about his love, preferably for the rest of his life. Back when I first read it, I thought Madarame did, if not the right thing, then the Daidouji Tomoyo route of “I want the person I love to be happy.” I think it was and is easy to relate to the plight of a noble (or perhaps spineless) nerd and his unrequited feelings, and to see Madarame as a mildly tragic (perhaps moe) character.
Of course, things have changed since then with Madarame in Nidaime confessing, being turned down, and ending up with Sue after a drawn-out competition from a bevy of female suitors, but I distinctly remember back then thinking that leaving things unspoken and unsettled might indeed be Madarame’s fate. And now, looking at this whole plot thread in full, I’d say Madarame confessing in Nidaime was the right choice because it’s clear he just couldn’t move on. In order to find another potential partner, he needed to be rejected because he’d be stuck in perpetual emotional limbo otherwise.
But Madarame’s confession isn’t the only time silence plays a major role. One of the highlights of Volume 9 is a special chapter dedicated to showing Kasukabe finally doing a joint-cosplay photo shoot with Ohno. The story has Kasukabe an unwilling victim of her own promise, Ohno trying to sneakily give photos of Kasukabe to Madarame, Ohno getting clocked for her efforts, and everyone getting ready for the graduation. This is done entirely without dialogue or sound effects (the sole word balloon being a “!?”), and it creates a powerful mood as the penultimate chapter. The fact that it comes directly after “Confession”—silence following silence, so to speak—might be coincidental, but it only adds to the feeling that “this is it, the end of Genshiken.”
That chapter is also an exercise in creativity for Kio, which is something I see in Volume 9 more generally. Earlier in the volume, when the characters are visiting a shrine in Narita for New Year’s, there’s an image of the group walking around, overlaying a bunch of other panels showing off the scenery. I have to wonder if these are the seeds that lead to the more dynamic (perhaps one could say shoujo-esque) paneling of Nidaime, and if that shrine visit is the start of Kio’s fondness for dumping tourist information into his series.
Before moving to the next topic, there’s an interesting panel in the silent chapter: an unfinished drawing of nighttime that leads into a Sasahara and Ogiue scene. It’s clearly not meant to be unfinished in that “roughness makes it look more interesting!” way, and it’s never been fixed or corrected. This isn’t a big deal, but it stands out all the more because of how detailed the scenery and environmental backgrounds typically are in Genshiken.
Sue, and the Story “Yet to Come”
Sue’s always been a fascinating character in the sense of her being a non-American’s (surprisingly accurate) interpretation of an American fangirl, but also in that she makes a strong impact from her mere presence. To this day, one of my favorite moments in Genshiken is Sue reenacting the “hiccup scene” from Azumanga Daioh—there’s something perfect about those “clones” of hers showing her gradually moving toward Sasahara, delivering every line in the process, before planting her fist in his solar plexus. In one of the between-chapter comics, Yabusaki runs from her (feeling awkward/shy around foreigners), only for Sue to unexpectedly start chasing her. If there’s any character in Genshiken who’s consistently hilarious, it’s Susanna Hopkins.
Given how little she appears, it’s amazing how much we see of Sue in Volume 9. We learn that she wants to study in Japan, we see her form a weird and affectionate bond with Ogiue, and we see her interact with Madarame more. If Genshiken had ended here as it originally did, we’d be left with just a general sense of Sue’s comfort around the two of them. With the context of Nidaime, these two relationships become much more significant. Even though Sue’s known Ohno for years, Ogiue might actually be her best friend. As for Madarame, that scene of him with Sue on his shoulders as he feels the warmth of her thighs takes on a whole new dimension.
Graduation as the Turning Point
Graduation is a special time in most school-themed works that run long enough, and it’s typically presented as all the things one might expect: a changing of the guard and the dawn of a new age. Genshiken ends up having two (three if you count Nidaime), and I think of its many strengths is how it handles these generational changes. They’re not necessarily abrupt, and it’s not like the old characters go away, but the refocus of the core cast is tricky to handle. While I know everyone has their own favorite “era” of Genshiken, I’m impressed by how well this manga handles that transition each time.
Anachronisms and Retcons
It amuses me that we still see flip phones in Volume 9. By the time Nidaime rolls around, Ogiue already has a smartphone. The sequel is supposed to take place not long after Volume 9, but the actual real-life time gap meant a lot of small things ended up changing. In the end, I think it’s for the best, instead of having to try and faithfully replicate 2005-2006 for the newer series. Besides, one of the points of Nidaime is to reflect how much otaku culture had changed over the past decade, and that wouldn’t quite fit if Kio just went straight back to the subculture of the mid-2000s.
In fact, one of the big changes in Nidaime is the much-higher female population, something that’s already sort of in motion in the first Genshiken. This brings up a big question: is the original Genshiken ending retconned? In it, we see a group of anonymous guys come up to the club room and greet an off-screen club president. In Nidaime, those guys are nowhere to be found. Is it supposed to be some undefined “future?” Should we pretend that scene never happened? It can’t be the past, because there’s a poster of Sänger Zonvolt and the little-girl version of Irui Ganeden from Super Robot Wars Alpha 3 (2005).
Kasukabe Saki, Moe, and a Translation Correction
I’m about to say something that might surprise Genshiken fans: The English translation of the final page has issues that alter the meaning significantly.
The final side story for Genshiken series 1 involves everyone having post-graduation drinks, when Madarame brings up a topic of discussion: “What would make Kasukabe be moe?” They go through different possibilities (sexy character, tsundere), only to realize that other girls closer fit those archetypes (Ohno and Ogiue, respectively). Madarame thinks the only way it’d work is if Kasukabe were a virgin, such that her insecurities became her vulnerability and thus her moe quality. Kasukabe asks Kohsaka what’s moe about her, and his answer is nothing. The other girls then wonder if Kasukabe really hasn’t noticed Madarame’s feelings, and the entire manga ends with her looking at them (and the viewer), oblivious.
This might not be how you remember it, and it wasn’t quite how I remembered it either. Back when I first read this, that I thought the final chapter was more about taking the piss out of Kasukabe and just ending with a good ol’ classic otaku discussion. Only now, having done this re-read, I realized both my error and the official English translation’s mistake. Japanese is very much a language of unspoken context and Genshiken is quite slangy when it comes to how the characters talk. By being even a little off in terms of understanding the meaning conveyed, it can completely derail the point of a scene.
Here’s the English translation:
Keiko: I wanna watch this whole thing explode. Ohno: No, that wouldn’t be fair. Because you wouldn’t be the one exploding. Ogiue: I’ve always felt this way, but I don’t think Kasukabe-senpai realizes how sensitive she is to conversations like this. Girls: ……
Kasukabe: Huh?
And here’s what it’s saying in Japanese (I’ve made the translation a little stiff on purpose to give as much of the full context as possible).
Keiko: I sooo wanna step on that landmine.
Ohno: You can’t. Because you’re not the one who’d explode.
Ogiue: Um……I’ve been thinking about this for a while, but do you really think Kasukabe-senpai hasn’t noticed? I mean, she’s perceptive when it comes to this kind of talk, right……?
Girls: ……
Kasukabe: Huh?
The issue is that the English translation first has Keiko talking about wanting to watch it all explode, when the Japanese is using the term “step on a landmine” to basically mean “I want to bring up something I shouldn’t,” i.e. the fact that Madarame is in love with Kasukabe. That’s why Ohno responds with “You wouldn’t be the one exploding,” because it’d be Madarame catching the brunt of that. Then, when Ogiue chimes in, what she’s really talking about is how odd it is Kasukabe hasn’t noticed Madarame’s feelings when she’s normally so good at catching on to these kind of subtle social cues. The trouble is the term binkan, which can mean sensitive or susceptible, but also aware and alert.
So the real point of this whole thing is that Kasukabe’s potentially “moe” qualities are there, just not in the way that’s readily apparent. They mainly exist only relative to her interactions with other individuals, namely Kohsaka and Madarame. With her boyfriend, it’s her inability to handle Kohsaka’s cutting remarks. With Madarame, it’s the possibility that, somehow, the most socially perceptive person in the group hasn’t notice how hard this guy is crushing on her. As we later learn in Nidaime, Kasukabe’s suspected Madarame of liking her all along, but didn’t pick up on the actual hints, in a “stopped clock is right twice a day” sort of way.
Final (Random?) Thoughts: What is Genshiken‘s Greatest Strength?
As I finish this revisit of my absolute favorite manga series, I’m left to wonder why Genshiken grabs me so thoroughly. Luckily, a recent interview with Kio Shimoku revealed an important factoid: Kio never actually spent all that much time in the anime/manga/gaming club that became the inspiration for Genshiken. Instead, his characters are shaped by a seeming desire to make them feel as real as possible. And that’s who these characters are. They’re otaku, but they’re not limited by that label. They’re human beings, full of wants and desires, contradictions, the potential for growth, and so much more. That’s what drew me to the series, and that’s what inspired me enough to name this blog after Ogiue. The endless voids of her eyes and the anger inside of her filled me with inspiration and joy all those years ago, but it’s the way she evolved that made me a fan of her (and this great manga) forever.
