Worth Thousands Upon Thousands of Words


This picture is here for a reason.

The Aniblog Tourney has me looking at a whole lot more blogs than I normally do, and as I check out one after the other, I’ve noticed a recurring blogging style that many sites follow, and I would like to figure out where it came from.


I also have no recollection where this image is from.

The style is defined by its frequent back-and-forth switches between between text and anime-related images. Sometimes it involves screenshots, but more often the pictures are high-resolution fanart with some kind of humorous caption underneath.  At their most extreme, images and text will alternate at a frequency of one image per paragraph.


Like so.

Now it’s easy to point fingers at “episodic blogs,” but that’s a little different from what I’m talking about, as a glut of screenshots is practically par for the course for an episode review. Also, many times they’re placed at the beginning, with a summary and then opinions following. This 1:1 paragraph to text ratio seems far more common with editorial-style anime blogs.

So I’d like to know, where did this style come from? Using the Aniblog Tourney itself, I checked out the highest-seeded blogs in the tournament to see if it was their far-reaching influence which provided younger bloggers with a stylistic framework, but in all of the cases the connection would be tenuous at best.

I might be thinking about this too hard. Maybe the desire to alternate paragraphs with images at a constant rate goes beyond simply anime blogging to the fact that there exists a space between every paragraph, literary voids which beckon to gain prominence by having art emerge from them. Or maybe it’s that people take screenshots and download fanart in batches first, and then look for ways to apply all of the images to an existing post. I’ve felt that desire myself, as it becomes hard to decide which images to cut from a post, a decision almost as difficult as having to cut out extraneous paragraphs that kill the flow of a post.

Speaking of which, the reason why I don’t really throw in a large amount of images into my posts is because an excess of images has the potential to be detrimental to the writing itself, interrupting the flow of a post as much as a superfluous paragraph, if not moreso. Not to say that it’s impossible to write well with constantly alternating paragraphs and images, but you risk cutting off your writing at the knees just as it’s starting to go into a full sprint.

So if you’re a fan of the aforementioned style of blog-posting, tell me, where did you find your inspiration, if any at all? If you really enjoy those types of posts, what in particular do you like about them?

Maybe Scanlators Just Gotta Scanlate

Lately I’ve been following a most insightful user on Twitter called otaku dog. A Japanese person running an otaku goods import service, otaku_dog has made his presence known on the internet through his desire to engage with the English-speaking anime fandom. While I have not tried out his “Otaku Personal Import Agency,” I have had a chance to have a few discussions with him via Twitter.

It was in one conversation that he talked about how he is not only a fan of anime and manga, but also American comics, particularly Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. He spoke of his desire to read more of it, but that the translation never finished and that in general translation projects of American comics tend to die down and never revive.

“American comics translating projects often do not continues to last….(;- -)”

I do not know if he meant official translations or fan ones. Regardless, it made me think about the scanlation and fansubbing community, and how for all of the negatives in those communities, from the egotism to the translations wrought with errors to the personality clashes and drama and millions of other problems fan translators can have and often do, things still get translated. It might be the most popular series which get the most attention, but we see translation groups occasionally gravitate towards  fairly obscure series, even if the motive is to garner attention and praise. This is a huge contrast to otaku dog’s description of the reverse and in a way it’s quite impressive.

One possible factor for this wide disparity might be the fact that Japanese comics generally have significantly less text than their American counterparts, particularly with someone like Neil Gaiman penning the work. This is related to the differences in storytelling through panels that emerged between the two countries, and even those from the Golden Age that were produced purely for the enjoyment of children and not today’s older audience tended to be densely packed with text, making translating American comics possibly more time-consuming.

The difference in text density between Japanese and American comics also makes me think about that old stereotypical moment from throughout the decades, where a parent takes a child’s comic book away because it isn’t “really reading,” and that pictures in books are a sign that it’s juvenile. If only those parents knew about the brevity of dialogue in manga…

(By the way, I’m well aware that the title of this post can be a bit misleading.)

Dairy Influences: A Personal Look At “The Far Side”

In his latest comic, the author of Gunshow Comic pays tribute to cartoonist Gary Larson (while also making a reference to his own series, The Anime Club, which I talked about previously). The Larson style was instantly recognizable to me, as I am actually a long-time fan of his classic one-panel newspaper comic The Far Side. Seeing this parody of the man’s work, it makes me want to reflect on the influence that his surreal humor had on me and my development in art and life.

Long before I could even really call myself an “anime fan,” I was a fan of The Far Side, calling it “my favorite comic” for years, and to this day I consider it to be the very best one-panel-style strip in history. For those unfamiliar with it, The Far Side was typically a single-panel (though it would sometimes split itself into two or more), and would be a mix of suburban stereotypes and off-kilter humor that took normal situations and twisted them just enough so that the mild absurdity would be magnified ten-fold. The comic also often featured humor based on biology, a direct consequence of Gary Larson himself being a biologist as well as a cartoonist, and while it had no real recurring “characters,” it did have a number of iconic designs and stylistic flairs. Bespectacled pudgy boys and their bee’s nest hairstyle mothers, animals standing and talking like people (particularly cows), and a tendency to have bulging eyes be an attention grabber were all common sights The Far Side. In a way, it was like a precursor to the Perry Bible Fellowship.

I would provide an example image, but Gary Larson has personally wrote letters asking everyone to not post his comics online, and while not 100% perfect it has worked surprisingly well. And so, even though I know that explaining a joke inevitably ruins it (as author Stephen King demonstrated in his foreword to The Far Side Gallery 2), I’m going to try so that you can understand Gary Larson’s style of humor.

The comic is situated in the backseat of a car, behind the driver. The driver is staring into his side-view mirror, and as is the case with all side-view mirrors, there is text to inform the driver that “objects in mirror are closer than they appear.” The object in the mirror, meanwhile, is an eyeball taking up the entire surface of the mirror. In other words, the object reflected is your eye staring into the comic’s panel (Again I apologize for my humor assassination).

So what did The Far Side do to me? When I first discovered it either fourth or fifth grade, I already loved to draw, but Gary Larson’s comic made me love art even more. It gave me a role model in art to look up to, and it gave me a direction to take in my drawing. I started actively trying to make things that would be seen as “crazy.” I created my own Far Side-style comic, called My Biz and also Crash and Bash Land, about horrible rides in an imaginary amusement park whose themes were violence and abuse of its customers. Both were as good as you’d expect a 10 year old’s attempts at Far Side knockoffs would be. Even after I discovered anime and became a “fan,” I held in my heart two dreams, to draw a full-fledged story comic like my favorite manga, and to create a humor comic that would appear in newspapers.

Today, though I no longer aspire to draw my own absurdist newspaper strip, I can see that Gary Larson had an enormous influence on my sense of humor, and for that I am ever so grateful, though my peers who have seen my brand of comedy in action may be inclined to disagree. You can even see The Far Side‘s effects on at least some of the drawings I have posted to Ogiue Maniax. And though I can’t tell you for certain, I think The Far Side probably even influenced my writing style through its combination of simplicity and eccentricity where even those who weren’t enthusiasts of biology could find a laugh or two.

Accessibility and Relatability

I might not understand the subtleties of a performance of “Swan Lake,” and I’m not even sure what arabesques and pas are, but as I read the manga Swan I find myself being excited by ballet in a way that I never have been before. Through effective narration and energetic artwork and storytelling, I can experience ballet on another level, despite my lack of experience.

Like so many manga titles, Swan takes what is unfamiliar and makes it less so. It is one of manga’s strengths, whether it’s glamorizing the world of ballet, adding excitement and tension to the art of breadmaking (Yakitate!! Japan), or outright teaching people new ideas (The Manga Guide Series). Essentially, manga often acts as a cultural ambassador of ideas.

But bridging the gap between those who know and those who do not is not solely the domain of fiction, let alone Japanese comics. Figures such as Carl Sagan and Bill Nye used their infectious personalities and honest passion to transform yesterday’s children into today’s scientists. In Starcraft, Lim “SlayerS_`BoxeR`” Yo-Hwan took an underdog race and through his creativity and dedication created an environment where even grandmothers know what “Zerg” are. Casters such as John Madden and Marv Albert have been able to express the excitement of athletic competition to people, from long-time fans to newbies, from those watching on TV to those listening on their car radios. Bruce Lee and Hulk Hogan combined fictitious roles with non-fictitious personalities to champion hard work, discipline, and respect.

Whether it comes naturally or is the product of concerned effort, these ambassadors make ideas accessible, and as anyone who’s tried to explain their hobbies to others probably knows, this is not a simple task. Even then, I think it is very important people try to give others a chance. Rather than standing atop your mountain while waiting for someone to reach your level, you could extend a hand and help someone up. After all, waiting is easy.

I’ll Be Waiting for My Check, Japan

Anime and its fandom have managed to create personifications out of everything, from computer operating systems to charcoal to cans of soda, applying many of the popular character tropes to them and creating a fun logic exercise you can also get your rocks off to. At this point, you might ask, what’s left to capture the hearts of moe otaku everywhere? But I have the answer.

Imagine, if you will, a world where toilets are transformed into cute, beautiful girls. Modern toilets are a triumph of civilization, carrying with them notions of human progress and indoor plumbing, but at the same time also have quite a bit of variety to them. The division between the different characters could be along brand names, or along type. Personally, I think the latter would be more favorable for the purposes of creating a show/franchise.

The squat toilet could be the traditional yamato nadeshiko-type, while the high-tech toilet with the self-warming seat and such could be the enthusiastic computer geek. The french bidet would be the really classy one. And of course, the urinal would be a total tsundere tomboy.

And I don’t need to say anything about how the doujin community would utilize this fertile ground.

All in all, I think this is what you’d call money down the drain.

(By the way, I’m open to ideas for the title.)

The Illusion of Equality is the Best Equality! …At Least in Mahjong

In the past year, as I learned to play mahjong, I’ve had quite a few opportunities to play against people I know, whether it’s online or in live settings. Sometimes I win, many times I lose, and though I’m sure I’ve improved, I can’t tell you what strengths I have as a player, if any at all. I honestly have no idea. I also had a revelation that I have absolutely no idea if I’m better than any of my peers or vice versa.

When I think about it though, this is actually a strength of mahjong. Unless an opponent is significantly better than you, it’s actually very difficult to gauge who is the stronger player. If I had to hazard a guess as to why this is the case, I’d say that it has to do with 1) the large influence luck has on the game and 2) the fact that you can only see results, and not the process through which they succeeded.

Both factors manifest themselves, for example, when an opponent declares riichi. If you’ve watched mahjong anime, this is when a character throws a white stick on a table to indicate that his hand is “about to win,” sort of like declaring “Uno,” except it’s optional and you get bonus points for it. At this point, an opposing player has two basic choices: break up their own hand to avoid dealing into the opponent’s hand (in Japanese-style mahjong, a player cannot win off of a tile they already discarded, so you can “play it safe” by discarding things they have already discarded), or continue to build your hand towards victory, at the risk of losing. You either prioritize winning, or not losing. In other words, you attack or defend, advance or retreat.

You can tell to a certain extent what another player is doing, as there are situations where certain tiles are considered “dangerous,” particularly because none have previously been discarded, but there’s no guarantee. So when a player manages to avoid dealing into the riichi player’s hand, you might wonder, are they actually destroying their hand to avoid losing, are they getting lucky with their discards, or are they actually that good? Is it luck? Is it skill? Can you even tell the difference? Watching a replay will give you some of this information, but trying to figure this out in-game is another matter entirely.

Given the random nature of the game, sometimes good tiles are dealt and sometimes you get garbage, but the real influence comes from a combination of luck and the illusion of luck, derived  from being able to read only so much information. At the same time, luck is not an all-consuming factor, as the beauty of mahjong is that even if you’re doing terribly, you always feel like you have some control of the game, coming down to that simple choice again of whether to attack or to defend, to go for victory, or to cut your losses. It’s vaguely similar to Texas Hold ’em  (whose rules I just learned the other day) in that respect.

The result of not being able to tell who’s actually a better player is that the game feels more fair, even if it isn’t, and it’s exciting to not be able to tell who has the greatest chance of winning. It makes every game exciting.

The Crux of the “#animeconprotip”

Anime fans on Twitter had quite a bit of fun yesterday suggesting “advice” for those new to anime conventions under the hashtag #animeconprotip.

“A can of Axe body spray is way cheaper than a hotel room with a shower.”

“You’re definitely the funniest guy in this room. Hell, you could talk over this whole showing and nobody would mind!”

“You don’t need blindfolds or a swimming pool to play Marco Polo. Just shout it nonstop for 72 hours! Everyone can play!”

“the ideal length for a cosplay skit show is between 5 and 8 hours.”

I even joined in myself:

“Cosplay is an activity for everyone to enjoy. Except that bitch who totally doesn’t deserve it. Is her dress made of FELT?”

“Make sure to ask all of your questions in five-minute long strings of broken Japanese. Without translating for everyone.”

Now I know that this sort of thing can come across as bitter old con veterans railing against those gosh darn whippersnappers harshing on their 8-tracks and combustible engines and running water, but the actual point of the “anime con pro-tip” is simple and profound: be considerate of others.

It’s not a matter of shame or worrying about the judgment of others, but rather the simple fact that you are sharing a space with other people for a period of 3 days, and that no one benefits when everyone not only inconveniences each other but does so purposely.

You should shower at conventions because Body Odor makes open areas unbearable and enclosed ones absolute torture. You should not be talking during the entirety of an anime showing because you are not the only person in the room and similarly you should take other people into account when you go about screaming through the hotel/convention center. Cosplay skits should be kept short because other people have their own skits to perform, and cosplay itself not solely there to act as an exclusive club where the main goal is to boost your ego. And I understand the desire to speak to a Japanese guest in Japanese, but remember that not only do other people have their own questions to ask, but they would like to understand your question as well.

So in short, think of others, and think of how you would like to be treated.

Or, to summarize it along the lines of the trend which started all of this:

“Being with tens of thousands of other people is just like being in a room by yourself, so you should act the same way!

If You Combined Azumanga Daioh with Initial D…

…Yukari would be the death of street racing. (Also the death of people.)

…Everybody’s favorite toy would be the rollacorolla.

…Osaka would try to block her opponent on corners by sticking her arms out.

Okay, I know there’s definitely better/worse ones out there. So now it’s your turn.

Take My Place, Fair Citizens, at the Mahjong Table

So a bunch of stuff has come up all of a sudden in my life, and this will prevent me from going to the monthly Riichi Mahjong sessions held by the US Professional Mahjong League in New York City.

But while I am unable to go, another continues to champion the cause, and you can join him in his endeavors to bring on the “its.” If you barely know how to play, that’s really not a problem, as it’s a friendly learning environment, and you get free snacks and soft drinks to soften the blow to your fragile ego. You’ll reach Akagi level someday. Or at the very least, Kanbara levels.

Wahaha.

This month’s Open Play session will be this Sunday, April 25th. The address is below.

Simple Studios
134 W. 29th Street (b/t 6th and 7th)
2nd Floor
New York, NY 10001

I’ll see you there.

The Bishounen and the Trap

The Speakeasy Podcast recently released their 4th episode, wherein they talk about the “bishounen,” and all of the celebration and agony that comes from putting some eye candy for girls into anime that are traditionally considered “for guys.”

For those unfamiliar, the term bishounen literally means “beautiful boy,” and refers to characters in manga, especially shoujo manga, who are beautiful and effeminate. In being pretty, bishounen in turn violate the unwritten rules of Acceptable Beauty in a Man, where guys are allowed to look good, but only in a way that reaffirms heterosexuality by having them conform to the male view of what a lady killer is supposed to look like.

Simply put, bishounen threaten masculinity and make guys uncomfortable. But the “threat” of bishounen isn’t simply in their looks, but in their very presence, and to get to the real heart of the problem, we have to take a look at a very similar concept which also holds some very profound differences: the trap.

The origin of the term “trap,” as it’s used by English-speaking anime fans, refers to the idea that a male viewer is “tricked” into being attracted to what he thinks is a very attractive lady, only to find out that the character actually has a Y-chromosome. In some cases, it works so effectively that some will say that liking traps is still not considered “gay,” because the character is so effeminate that all they’re doing is appealing to a heterosexual man’s natural desires using the power of artistic expression.

Now what’s really interesting is that in some cases you’ll find examples of guys who love traps but hate bishounen. At first, it can appear to be a contradiction, but there’s a fundamental difference at work here: bishounen are designed to appeal to girls, while traps are designed to appeal to guys.

Of course I’m aware that there are plenty of guys who decry the presence of traps just as much as they do bishounen, guys who believe that both the moe fan and the fujoshi are killing anime. But I really believe that the thin line between bishounen and trap reveals the truth, and that it all comes down to fear.

Guys who lament the presence of bishounen are not as threatened by their good looks as they are the idea that the presence of bishounen means that guy-oriented anime will suffer in some capacity. When the bishounen talks, this is what they hear coming out of their mouths.

“These character designs are not for you.”

“We’re doing things to actively appeal to people that aren’t you.”

It’s the fear that girls will latch onto a show just for the hot guys and will ignore all of the deep and wonderful story that’s actually there and will refer to the guys as “bishies” and debate the degree to which they would “glomp” them. It’s the fear that anime which would have had excellent story and setting might end up being aborted half-way and turned into a hideous carbunkle that sacrificed its potential for greatness for scenes involving with male beauty, angst, and sparkling moonlight.

The truth of this matter is actually stated in the Speakeasy podcast: anime, in some capacity has always made attempts to appeal to girls, even in that most manly of genres, the giant robot anime. The original fans of Mobile Suit Gundam were actually mostly female. UFO Robo Grendizer found a female fanbase as well, because of some of the romance elements in the story, as well as the presence of strong female characters. Even Gowapper 5 Godam tried to appeal to girls by being the first giant robot series to have a girl as the main character. They may have been a secondary audience to the boys buying action figures, but when it comes down to it, what’s wrong with having an audience that’s 50% female?