Category Archives: philosophy

The Decision of Kyon, The Disappearance of Suzumiya Haruhi

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The Disappearance of Suzumiya Haruhi does a lot for the popular franchise, giving significant development to its characters, most notably narrator and central protagonist Kyon. The film gives a lot to think about on both intellectual and emotional levels, and I find both my thoughts and feelings on it to be surprisingly intense, so I want to organize them to see if I can give myself some clarity and perhaps insight to others.

Just as a warning, while I am calling this a review, it is going to be EXTREMELY SPOILER-HEAVY.

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The Man in the Moe

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“If the emphasis in moe anime is on the female characters, where does that leave the male characters?”

I asked myself that question, and after some deliberation it turned into, “What do you look for in male characters in moe anime?” I want to turn the question to you the reader as well, provided you’re someone who has enjoyed moe anime in the past, even if you’re not necessarily a fan. Keep in mind that I don’t mean that the male characters themselves have to be “moe,” but just that they exist within those types of anime. If you want to extend the question to yuri shows as well, that is also okay.

For me, the first thing that popped into my head was Maria-sama ga Miteru, namely the all-male student council that exists outside of the all-girl school where Marimite primarily takes place. Marimite has a heavy emphasis on female characters, so when one of those male council members, Takada Megane, talks about how he loves to work out and eat meat all while flexing at the girls, it really stands out. It’s as if Takada and his muscles are inadvertently shattering the yuri-heavy atmosphere of Marimite, and the first time I saw him I thought, “Yes, you are the best male character in this show.” Applying that back to my own question, it makes me think that while I definitely enjoy Marimite for what it is (and own almost all of it on DVD), I like the idea that there exists something a little beyond the world of the girls, even if it’s not that far removed, and male characters who act kind of contrary to that setting actually serve to emphasize the feel of Marimite.

One concern I have is a possible philosophy that the male characters in such series don’t matter, as I feel that even if they’re out of the spotlight they can have a huge impact on the work itself.

So what do you think?

Aokimura Would Be Proud of My Mahjong

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Three months after my unceremonious descent in online mahjong rankings, I have managed to not only claw my way back to my original ranking, but also surpass it and move up to the next level. I am now a “3-Dan” on Tenhou, and I’ve learned a few lessons since September. Hopefully I keep them in mind so I don’t drop down again.

As much as it would appall Akagi, trying to go up the ranks on Tenhou encourages fairly safe and conservative play. The only way to actually lose points and risk dropping down is to get last place, so while being 1st is ideal, being 3rd isn’t so bad either as it means you are as far as you were last game. At the end of the day, if 1st place is way out in front, it’s generally not worth it to try and make a desperate counterattack, as it might just land you in 4th, something that has happened to me on many, many occasions.

In one match I was in 4th place in the last round. However, I was less than 1000 points behind 3rd place, and in this final round 3rd place was also East, meaning that if he wins he gets more but if another player wins by self-draw then he pays a higher price. So after seeing another player Reach, I simply abandoned my chances of winning and counted on that player drawing his winning tile, as it would allow me to barely get 3rd without doing anything. That’s exactly what happened in the end and I got away without losing any ranking points just by, as Sub likes to put it, “playing to not lose.” It was kind of dirty, but that was the reality of the situation.

Watch out though, as aiming for not-4th can be a trap in itself, as you can end up in a situation where you’re behind and desperately aiming for anything to keep you in the game, which in turn can make you prone to rash decisions. This is pretty much what killed me when I first dropped back down to 1-Dan, as you have the disadvantage of not only of letting your emotions get in the way but also giving up too soon. Doing so may even blind you from the fact that you could win if only you had the patience and clarity of mind to see that.

Though it might seem to contradict what I said about aiming to not lose, it’s actually all just a part of gauging your situation at all times. Let’s say you’re in 4th place. Ask yourself, in my current situation, what would it take to get in 1st? What’s the point difference? How likely is it for me to get a hand that can overcome that difference? If there’s no hope, what are my options then?

Now keep in mind that this is doesn’t have to be cold, hard logic. You don’t have to be calculating statistics, and can even be based on how the game feels at the moment. A small loss in points isn’t as bad as losing a lot of points, and if you’ve lost a lot of points you could always potentially drag down 3rd place. And if you drag down 3rd, you might be in range to get 2nd. There’s room for optimism, however small.

So while Akagi obviously scoffs at “digital” mahjong, that is, a style based on analyzing ratios instead of playing based on “feel,” it’s clear that going up the ranks in Tenhou isn’t all related to probability. Just as you’re trying to claw your way up to 1st, so is everyone else, and inevitably there are human traits to exploit, be they greed, fear, or even relying too much on statistics.

Though deep down, I feel like this is my limit when it comes to online mahjong. At 3-dan, getting 4th place actually makes you lose more points than you would gain if you had gotten 1st. Whether I can overcome such odds is something I’ll just have to see. Still, that I’m here in the first place is something I can be proud of, even if I’m not the best mahjong player out there.

Lastly, to celebrate:

Ogi 3, Gooooooo!!!

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Today marks the 3-year anniversary of Ogiue Maniax. Looking back at all that’s happened to me and this blog since last November, it almost doesn’t feel real.

These days, I generally update Ogiue Maniax twice a week, but for over two years I posted daily. It was a signature of sorts for this blog, and I was dedicated to constantly thinking of new areas to explore, questions to ask, and bad jokes to tell. I was fairly proud of keeping up this pace, and swore to myself that only the most drastic circumstances could possibly derail me from my schedule. Even when I was working seven days a week, I still maintained it. But as I sit here in the Netherlands, a country I’ve never visited previously on a continent I had never set foot on, knowing that my purpose here is to focus my passion for anime and manga and penchant for analysis into a doctoral thesis, I know that life answered my challenge. Or perhaps it might be better to say that I challenged life. I hope you’re still enjoying this newer, slimmer Ogiue Maniax.

So if it weren’t for that big change, the most significant blog-related event would have definitely been the revival of Genshiken. It was December when I found out about the one-shot sequel known as Genshiken Chapter 56. Wanting to share it, I spent my Christmas Eve translating it so that all could enjoy one last Genshiken hurrah, not realizing that there would be another follow-up months later. With Genshiken 56 appearing last December and Genshiken II having started in October, the series almost acts as a bookend for year 3 of Ogiue Maniax. It’s more Genshiken than I could have possibly asked for. Not that I’m complaining, of course.

Then there were the panels at Otakon, my trips to play real mahjong with real people, and so many other things. It’s been exciting times, to say the least.

Really though, I am grateful for everyone who’s read Ogiue Maniax, whether you’ve commented or not. I simply can’t take that for granted, and if I do then something must be terribly wrong. Although I’m far away from my friends, my family, and those I cherish most, I still take great joy in being able encourage others to take a closer look at the anime they love and to deepen that passion a little bit more.

From the moment I found out I was moving to when I arrived here, I had this constant feeling that my life was entering a new stage. But when I think about it, my life’s been moving forward for a while now, and I have you to thank.

Used that Mangekyou One Too Many Times

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I recently had a conversation with OGT where he mentioned his participation at the University of Kentucky’s annual Asia Art Festival. There, he participated in a panel on anime and all that good stuff. But after the panel, an interesting conversation occurred. I’ll let OGT speak for himself.

…I chatted a bit more with the panelists (one a soon-to-graduate senior, the other a freshman) and the topic somehow swerved to the manga industry, its travails, and its push to make a market for more esoteric, alternative manga (which for all intents and purposes mostly means “not BESM-standard”).

After hearing this, the freshman subsequently asked “So, like, are they trying to make it cool to read print manga?”

What?

It turns out that in the guy’s high school, reading manga in book form meant you were at a disadvantage, not only in terms of keeping up with the story but also socially. One possible explanation for this is the fact that scanlations are of course quicker and, high school being what it is, no one wants to discuss something which has already passed its expiration date for trendiness, be it Bleach or the Super Bowl.

But regardless of the why, I must reiterate my (and OGT’s) feelings on the matter: What?

The more I think about that person’s statement though, the more I feel it to be a revelation!  It’s like through all of the discussions and debates out there on how to get people to buy manga, as well as all of the talk directed towards making people aware of piracy, we all forgot the fact that teenagers are teenagers, and the choice to read an online version of their favorite comic can be as simple as whether or not it would be acceptable by their friends and fellow manga fans. Knowing this, I can’t help but think, “How blind we all are!”

As someone who was once ages 13 through 18, I know that not every decision a person that age makes is the product of group pressure, and that a teenager can even defy that pressure, but I know that it is still a very powerful, perhaps even overwhelming force. And despite what they themselves might think, keeping up with what’s “cool” can affect nerds, especially when it’s due to the judgment values of their fellow dorks. Sure, this feeling can definitely be exploited for marketing purposes—there are industries built entirely around doing so—but all of the logic and strategy in the world can’t always account for the fickle, volatile psyche of the teenager.

So in conclusion, I feel old. You should too.

The Enemy’s the Fashions! Kuragehime’s Look at Anti-Beauty

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Kuragehime, aka Jellyfish Princess, has so far been quite a genuine look at the lives of female otaku. Though certain elements of the story are exaggerated for comedic effect, the show really feels sincere overall, particularly when it comes to the uncomfortable conflict that can occur when dorks, particularly female dorks, run up against the frightening monster that is Fashion.

Already from episode 1 you get the idea that main character Tsukimi and the other girls find fashion to be an anathema. Living in Tokyo, going outside means having to deal with the constant, almost unconscious social pressure that results from not looking “like everyone else.” They know they’re different from others, and being reminded of it constantly and from all angles doesn’t make them any more comfortable. Their home, known as Amamizukan is a haven, not merely because it’s visually devoid of the perceived runway drive-bys that make the outside so dangerous, but also because it’s seen as mentally and emotionally free. So when the threat is made internal, either by a “beautiful woman” stepping through their door, or through having one of their own transformed into “one of them,” it’s like the sanctity of their home (and their existence) has been violated by that which they fear most.

In episode 3, Tsukimi is given a glamorous makeover by the cross-dressing Kuranosuke, and her reaction to seeing herself comes in two parts. First, she is unable to accept herself as attractive. Second, she frets over what her peers would think if they saw her. When Tsukimi imagines herself being crucified by her friends, she envisions it taking place on Otome Road in Ikebukuro, which is itself a haven for female otaku, particularly fujoshi, within a greater trendy shopping/fashion city, reflecting the status of their home within Tokyo. This reveals a lot about how Tsukimi defines herself, not just internally but also in relation to others.

While “beauty” can be defined in any number of physical ways (let alone more intangible ones), it’s clear that Tsukimi does not consider herself to be beautiful. By saying that she “doesn’t want to be pretty,” Tsukimi defines beauty as something foreign to her existence, or that to look attractive would mean that she isn’t be true to herself. I can relate. Having been ridiculed in the past because of my clothing, “good fashion” and “good looks” became symbols of the enemy, the barriers which prevent people from seeing that it’s the inside that counts, as taught by one Ugly Duckling. But when you think about it, if the inside is really what’s important, then people should not be judged negatively simply because they’re attractive and make an effort to be attractive.

Fashion can be seen as a way to hide your flaws. In that sense, fashion becomes a “lie” made all the more egregious by glitz and glamour, but it’s a perspective marred by pessimism, where a person allows the negative aspects their appearance to define them more than the positive ones. Instead, you can think of fashion as accentuating your better qualities, where you define “good-looking” on your own terms, and the difference between fashionable and unfashionable can be as simple as an anime t-shirt that fits versus one that doesn’t. But this isn’t what Tsukimi is doing. Rather than making a declaration that sweats and unkempt eyebrows are a sign of her own personal beauty, she has defined “being pretty” as a state that she can only achieve through deception and trickery, that whatever “beauty” is, she isn’t. To look good is to be one with the enemy, and neither she nor her housemates at Amamizukan can accept that (or at least that’s what Tsukimi believes).

So when it comes to the second part of Tsukimi’s reaction, the fear that she would be branded a traitor by her comrades in geekdom, there is more at work than simply group pressure. Tsukimi and the other girls have so violently rejected the “standard” world that they have created their own anti-fashion values, where everything is upside down. While I appear to be contradicting what I said earlier about defining fashion on your own terms, this isn’t quite what’s going on, as the girls are actually casting in a negative light the very attempt to look better. Because they feel ostracized by the outside, they shun it right back to the point that they feed their insecurities, rather than grow more comfortable, and in doing so they end up being not so different from those they wish to distance themselves from.

I know the emphasis that fashion can have on a group dynamic like this can be difficult for a lot of guys to comprehend, so I’m going to provide a more aggressive, arguably more “masculine” nerd equivalent. Imagine that a Star Trek fan gets beat up in school by a bunch of jocks. As a result, he begins to associate anything having to do with physical prowess and athletic activity with stupidity and the worst human traits. Then, he manages to find a Star Trek club and makes some friends, even going to science fiction conventions. He’s happy, but within that community he becomes the guy who judges others by their Star Trek knowledge (which by this point has also branched out to Babylon 5 and other works), and to not be up to his level is to simply not be up to par. Just as this poor nerd “bullies” with his intelligence and fandom knowledge, unconsciously mirroring the very bullies who torment him, the anti-fashion, anti-beauty attitude of Tsukimi and friends emerges in a similar fashion.

Is Amamizukan truly free then? Yes, but only if you follow their rules. That doesn’t make them bad people, though.

One Inch Hunch

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In episode 35 of Ojamajo Doremi, Doremi is auditioning for a role in a film and is asked to pantomime eating a steak, a la Maya from Glass Mask. Before beginning Doremi asks whether or not the imaginary steak is a cheaper, supermarket steak or a high-quality restaurant steak as pictured above. Upon seeing it for the first time, my initial thought was, “TWO-INCH STEAK? THAT’S HUGE!”

But of course that’s not a two-inch steak at all. It’s two centimeters, and just by virtue of growing up in the United States I naturally assumed that the ruler would be an imperial one when given no other point of reference. And it goes without saying that I didn’t bother noticing that each unit of measurement was broken up into 10 sections instead of 8.

It’s really simple and also kind of silly, but it makes me really aware of how my environment has affected me on a variety of levels. In fact, lately I’ve been trying to avoid making too many assumptions based on prior knowledge, even going so far as to read a Japanese language book about American comics to see what might not necessarily be “obvious” to someone who didn’t grow up with a non-robot-driving Spider-Man.

If I can keep learning, then it’s all for the best.

Seeing Manga for What It is

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New York Anime Festival, much like the teenagers who attend it, is a fairly young convention especially when compared to other cons. This year saw it merged with its sister convention, the New York Comic Con, and while I did not attend, a number of reports have stated how the Comic Con side so dominated the Jacob Javits convention center that the Anime Festival became relegated to what has now been commonly referred to as the “anime ghetto.” There is no word as to why the ghetto formed, or whether the sharp delineation between comics (and everything else) and anime was a sign of disrespect towards anime fans, but regardless of intent, it is quite clear that things were Different. Dave over at Colony Drop writes:

Far from the exhibition floor, there was an invisible line in the Javits Center that weekend: one that denoted where the comic con ended and where the anime con began. I marked this line down in my mind late in the first day, when I stopped to make a phone call and saw my first pack of running, screaming Hetalia cosplayers. This display was immediately followed by a creepy girl who was going around the hallway alone and serially glomping any character she recognized. It had taken me all day to get there— NYCC offered me more as a gamer than NYAF offered me as an anime fan— but there was no mistaking that I was now in Anime Country.

That invisible line that Dave mentions is largely social; all the con did was greatly exaggerate it through the structure of the convention center itself. Anime fans want to be seen as anime fans. They want to be different and special. Others are glad to oblige, doing so by expressing their disdain for “those damn anime kids.” In either case, a division is formed, between “anime and manga” and “not-anime-and-manga.” Meanwhile, others are quick to step in and give the message that “it’s all just cartoons and comics anyway.”

The trouble with both the acknowledgment and disapproval of such categorizations is that each side has its own fair share of pitfalls. By regarding manga as special (and from here on out I’ll be sticking to manga for the sake of convenience), supporters can end up tying it down, obscuring (or even willfully ignoring) the fact that one of manga’s real strengths is its sheer diversity in style, content, and tone. Instances of this can be seen in the way that early iterations of the Morning International Comics Competition (back when it was called the Morning International Manga Competition) were less aesthetically diverse than the more recent ones. This is further compounded when its detractors regard manga as being narrowly defined by negative traits. And yet, while it is in no way disrespectful to refer to manga as “comics,” doing so becomes problematic when the traits that have developed as the result of a unique comics history are intentionally brushed aside for the sake of generalizations. A person who regards manga as being no different from other comics inadvertently disregards the histories of comics cultures the world over.

One mistake people commonly make when they talk about what separates one form of comics from another is that they start at the visuals first. Some never get beyond the surface, and they define a form of comics entirely by the look of characters and details. Others can look beyond the first layer and delve deeper, finding meaning behind those images. Now taking the top-down approach is actually perfectly valid, but it only provides half of the total picture. By also taking a bottom-up approach, you can begin to see how the various non-visual contents of stories in comics manifest themselves on the pictorial level. It is good to not only see how the river-like flow of panels in manga affects storytelling for instance, but also how the storytelling can influence the panel structure in manga. From there, you can really begin to see what makes manga special, and at the same time discover its connections with the greater category of “comics.”

It can seem like a complete contradiction to say that manga should be seen as both unique and like all other comics, but that’s only the case if you define it in black and white terms. Look carefully, and you’ll see that the actual lines which separate manga from other forms of comics are actually quite nebulous. Rather than having manga’s identity be frozen in time, forever unwavering and unchanging, it is important to see manga as the result of decisions made over the years, trends that ebb and flow, and the combined efforts of people who dared to pick up a pencil and merge words with images in sequential format. Even as comics creators increasingly take notes from their peers two continents away and the divisions begin to crumble, they do not automatically wipe out what has come before. Just the same however, manga is not beholden to its past, and can grow in unpredicted ways. The past provides a foundation for the unseen future.

Heroman? What About Villainman?

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Question: What’s the difference between Anpanman and Heroman?

The answer is, Anpanman has an arch-enemy.

I recently finished Heroman, the BONES collaboration with American comics legend Stan Lee, and while the show had some positive qualities to it, it fell flat overall, due in no small part to a long run of episodes in the middle which pretty much just meandered about. But in the list of things the show could have done better, what really stood out to me was how Heroman and Joey Jones never got a proper supervillain to call their own. Sure, Heroman and Joey have adversaries and rivals, namely the insectoid Skrugg and their leader Gogorr, as well as Dr. Minami and “Anime Flash Thompson,” but none of them felt quite right, even if two out of the three turned out interesting in the end.

Gogorr had the most potential to be an arch-enemy.  As a galactic conqueror that can augment and evolve his body for combat, he bears a great resemblance to Vilgax, the primary villain in the American cartoon Ben 10, but the main difference here is that, unlike Gogorr, I would most definitely consider Vilgax to be Ben Tennyson’s arch-enemy. With Ben and Vilgax, not only could you sense a greater degree of personal animosity between the two, but Vilgax’s actions directly cause Ben to get his powers in the first place. In contrast, Gogorr feels a little too distant from Joey both emotionally and thematically to be a proper nemesis. Another factor is that the way Gogorr is presented makes him feel a little too powerful to be an arch-enemy, too much of a Goliath to Heroman’s David, and too much of an Archmage to Heroman’s Goliath.

Left: Vilgax, Right: Gogorr

A lack of arch-enemies might seem like an odd thing to single out, and to be sure the inclusion of one wouldn’t have solved all of Heroman‘s problems, but the reason I’m focusing on the concept is that the arch-enemy is a near-integral part of what makes superhero stories feel like superhero stories, and as a show at least partially based on the American superhero concept, Heroman could have benefitted from such a character. On a more intellectual level, they provide a nice foil for the hero, holding up a mirror to the hero’s own abilities either through being the opposite or being the same (or sometimes both), but on a simpler level supervillains expand the world of the superhero by having a great evil that can be vanquished by a great good, highlighting both protagonist and antagonist. I wouldn’t go as far as saying that Heroman needed a relationship with a villain on par with Superman/Lex Luthor or the Fantastic Four/Doctor Doom, but just having someone to stand in contrast to Heroman and Joey would go a long way in highlighting the “What does it mean to be a hero?” theme that persists throughout Heroman.

“Hey, Your Sister’s Pretty Cute,” He Said

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Ore no Imouto ga Konna ni Kawaii Wake ga Nai, literally “My Little Sister Can’t Possibly Be This Cute,” is a Fall 2010 anime based on a light novel by the same name. Known as Oreimo for short, the series follows an “average” high schooler, Kyousuke, and his hardcore otaku of a younger sister, Kirino. Though only two episodes are out as of this writing, the show quickly explains the unwieldy title of the show by pointing out that “This Cute” basically means “like the loyal and affectionate little sister character you’d find in a moe anime or a visual novel.”

However, while the series emphasizes how Kirino is not “This Cute,” Kirino is shown to be so objectively good-looking that she works as a clothing model. Kyousuke expressing how he cannot see Kirino and her disrespectful, overachieving attitude as anything resembling adorability is akin to a man going into a crowd and loudly proclaiming his absolute hatred for chocolate. Even if he were telling the truth, an outburst like that would still make everyone think of chocolate.

The degree to which Kyousuke and the show itself remind the viewer that he is as far from a sister complex as possible reminds me of a certain situation in fanfiction, where an author notorious for creating Mary Sues, impossibly perfect characters often used as wish-fulfillment for the writer, tries to prove that they are capable of doing otherwise by creating extremely flawed characters. Ultimately though, these “Reverse Mary Sues” are just that: the tails to the Mary Sue’s heads, equally as “special” in terms of how much attention is given to them, even if it’s just about how imperfect they are.

Does that describe Kirino? Well, the easy assumption would be that Kirino exists on one side of the coin while the standard “moe little sister” resides on the other, but that wouldn’t be quite accurate. Kirino is not simply the opposite extreme, but more of a moe little sister character who also incorporates elements from the more established little sister archetype of smart-alec brat seen in American shows such as Boy Meets World and Full House and perhaps best exemplified in anime by Pop, the younger sister of the titular Ojamajo Doremi. Kirino, who nonchalantly disrespects her older brother, complains about a lack of privacy, and also expresses vocal disgust at the idea of a sibling romance, has those bratty qualities juxtaposed with the amount of time and effort the show devotes to putting Kirino’s cuteness on display.

By establishing Kirino as being not-cute-but-actually-really-cute, as well as giving her qualities closer to a more antagonistic and thus arguably more “realistic” younger sister, it begs the question of whether or not Oreimo is trying to diversify the concept of the moe “little sister” by incorporating those bratty elements, perhaps in response to any possible growing weariness with established and rigid moe tropes. In other words, could Oreimo be an attempt at reconfiguring moe from within, and if so, is that a sign of the times? Assuming these to be true, it would not be Kirino herself who equates to the Anti-Sue, but rather the genesis of Kirino as a new type of little sister bearing similarities to the initial motivation by which the Anti-Sue is formed, though handled with more skill and professionalism than your stereotypical fanfiction.

Further complicating the whole matter is the fact that Kirino herself is an otaku fanatically devoted to the “little sister” type who, instead of envisioning herself as the little sister yearning for the affections of her older brother, sees herself in the role of that fictional older brother. Moreover, Kirino is actually embarrassed about her hobby and is a closet otaku. When these aspects of Kirino are taken into account alongside Kyousuke and the degree to which he expresses his disinterest in little sisters both “real” and “fictional,” Kirino’s existence as an “attractive girl” actually takes priority over her existence as a “little sister” in certain respects. In particular, by making her the “otaku” and making Kyousuke the “normal one,” the (male) otaku watching may find themselves relating more closely to Kirino than her older brother, despite gender differences. That’s not to say that she is the viewer surrogate, of course, as Kirino is still very much designed to be the object of desire for the audience.

Essentially, Kirino’s charm starts to become that of a cute girl who is also someone’s younger sister, something is much more applicable to the real world than the typical visual novel archetype, seeing as how many females out there are younger sisters to someone. At the same time however, the trappings of Oreimo, namely the frequent and prominent use of the term “little sister,” also bring that fandom/fetish to the forefront of the viewer’s consciousness. Oreimo thus occupies a sort of contradictory space, where it appears to both reinforce and subvert little sister moe by being a variation on the established formula which also goes about reminding the viewer of that original formula. In doing so, the series then casts into question, perhaps unintentionally, the nature of the “little sister” character itself, as well as whether or not someone can enjoy a character who falls into a moe archetype without being specifically catered to by that archetype’s inherent qualities. Given such a contradiction, I have to wonder, is the overt “little sister” aspect of Oreimo a boon or a detriment? Or to put it another way, would Oreimo be better off if it weren’t about a little sister at all?

That all said, it’s only been two episodes. I’ll have to ask again at a later date.