Category Archives: philosophy

Twitter and the Control of Conversation Space

Posted on by

I’m sure that tons of people have commented on the idea of Twitter, what makes it unique, why it has been embraced where other forms of social media have failed. I, however, have not read any of those comments, and so everything I say is my own thought, even if it overlaps immensely with common knowledge.

When Twitter first started getting popular, many others including myself questioned the usefulness of it. We already had IMs, chatrooms, blogs, messageboards, maybe Usenet, and dozens of other ways to communicate with others and do that “online social networking” thing if need be. And when I first got my Twitter account, I did so because I was tired of not being able to read interesting conversations that were happening on it. Inevitably however, I started to participate as well. Not greatly, mind you. I still don’t tweet nearly as much as some of my contemporaries, but it’s more than I expected I would, kind of like how I didn’t expect myself to still be blogging after all this time. There’s a niche Twitter fulfills, and I think I know what it is.

Twitter’s most defining characteristic is likely its 140-character limit, which depending on your language can mean a lot of space (Japanese) or very little (English). This makes it a perfect match for cell phone texting and its usual 160-character limit and is part of why it is used by those who are a little less tech-savvy, but I think the 140-character limit is only a piece of why Twitter has caught on. The real appeal of Twitter in my opinion is that it is easy to control the space of conversation while leaving it open for others to jump in.

With Twitter, you follow who you want to by saying that you will follow them. It is an active choice to see the remarks of others. However, it is not in your control for other people to see your comments unless you purposely make your account private. However, not being the default choice means a lot here. Twitter can be both public and private at the same time, and it is up to the user to determine the boundaries of each. And by doing so, you have a situation where a conversation can begin one-on-one, but then another person can interject and deliver his or her point, and then another, and then another. But to those first two people engaging in that dialogue, it can still exist as a one-on-one conversation. What is being said and the scope of the discussion changes depending on who is reading and who is participating and who wishes to see the participation of others.

This is where the 140-character limit really comes in. It makes everything you say on Twitter bite-sized and easier to digest. While discussions can go on for a while, the point at which a person chooses to step in is in reply to one of those 140-word tweets, as opposed to say, a five-paragraph-long comment. Your words are already broken down into specific chunks, and so another person on Twitter can zero in on that, and while their reply can be in response to everything you’ve said so far, they have chosen to reply to that specific tweet and bring emphasis to it.

So basically, Twitter conversations can exist at multiple sizes simultaneously due to the brevity in encourages and the way the users can determine in their own space the number of participants. It is both a closed discussion and an open one, and yet your choices also do not impact the choices of others for the most part. There is near-total control, but that powerlessness over others is also what allows it to expand. And unlike chatrooms or forums you do not have to opt to ignore the words of another, as it is the default. Twitter is as comfortable as you make it.

Postignorism

Posted on by

I like the postmodernist idea that when given a work of art,  fiction or anything with any degree of abstraction, everyone interprets it and enjoys it their own way. The artists have power but so does the audience. That said however, I do feel that there is a distinct danger in becoming too wrapped up in your own interpretation, particularly at the expense of what is actually there.

In the case of anime fandom, this often takes the form of watching something through the lens of esoteric criteria such as a set of rules for enjoying (or not enjoying) a series established by a fan community for a fan community. It’s okay to watch Inuyasha because you really like Sango, but it’s another matter entirely to judge a given episode’s merit almost entirely on percentage of Sango content or that the series would be objectively improved by more Sango screen time. Shipping can often become a similar beast. Having a favorite pairing is very reasonable even in series without a hint of romance, but the game changes when a series’ ability to provide ammo for that specific coupling is considered the most vital criteria of success.

There is a delicate balance in terms of arguing for the sake of the creator vs the sake of the audience. It may sound like I’m faulting the viewers for not going along with what the creators have laid out, but I understand that creators are not infallible gods even when it comes to their own works, and what they think happens in their own story can play out very differently on the page and screen. I encourage people to really understand their own tastes and to not treat their personal criteria as frivolous, but at the same time if your rubric for enjoyment is too narrow, then it starts to reach a point where what you’re demanding from a work of fiction is that it caters to you, even at the expense of the work itself. On some level it’s not even about like or dislike, good or bad, but rather making an opinion on what’s there rather than what doesn’t exist.

I want to emphasize that I’m not trying to tell people they need to enjoy their shows a certain way, as I don’t believe in that. However, what I do believe in is having some sense of how you approach fiction and to acknowledge the whole of the work when thinking about it, and then taking steps from there to express your mode of enjoyment. Indulging your fantasy is okay as long as you don’t confuse it for the “reality” of the story. If you’re going to be ignoring an aspect of a work, at least be somewhat aware that you’re ignoring it.

There Are Two Kinds of People in This World: Winners and Trolleys

Posted on by

In Anime World Order’s look back at the previous decade of anime, guest Matt Alt talks about how the true successor to giant robot anime isn’t current giant robot anime, instead bestowing that title to those shows which spawn trading cards and games revolving around collecting. Essentially, the true spirit of super robots lies not in the continuation of the aesthetics of giant robot anime, but rather in their ability to push merchandise.

Considering this point, I can only think about how much more today’s anime for boys fosters a sense of competition, with trading card games and the like being at the center of children’s entertainment. The kids don’t have to be competitive “high-level” players, and they don’t even have to necessarily know the rules, and I still think these games, even if their shows talk about friendship and honor, still push the theme of competition more than anything else. Just the fact that there are  specific rules and stats and points means that, in a given activity, there will be winners and losers, even if it’s just cheap plastic being spun in an enclosed space. In contrast, that’s not really possible when you just have toy robots and the like. You can perhaps beat your friends by collecting more toys than them, or even create arbitrary rules of competition or even create fake competitions between your toys as Cobra Commander attacks with his vicious horde of My Little Ponies, but at the end of the day there’s no definitive way to become King of Make-Believe.


Well, almost no way.

This in turn got me thinking about the anime fandom and how we have figured out ways to compete via anime. The act of watching cartoons is not really an area in which you can determine winners and losers (unless you say that we’re all losers), so the community instead focuses their competitive spirits towards anime-related activities such as making music videos and cosplaying. These competitions are far more subjective in their criteria and human judgment is paramount in determining winners, but all the same we have taken a relatively passive activity and found ways to test our abilities against others.

I don’t really have a grand point I’m trying to reach, as I’m just laying down some thoughts. But be it through subjective judging or concrete goals, I don’t think an increase in competitive spirit is really a bad thing. That said, it can be taken too far.

First there’s a Du, and Then I Couldn’t Hear the Rest

Posted on by

When it comes to uniting fans, Nico Nico Douga and episodic blogging have quite a bit in common.

Nico Nico Douga is a popular Japanese streaming video site which helped push popular Japanese memes such as the fusion of voice synthesis and moe, Hatsune Miku, and creating a small revival in the career of gay porn actor Billy Herrington by making clips from his videos running jokes among the community. Its most notable feature however is its unique comments system, where user comments are scrolled from right to left as the video plays. For some it’s an annoying feature which gets in the way of watching the video, but for others it’s the very lifeblood of Nico. Despite most of its content not being live, the comment system allows site users to experience a sense of “community” within the comments, by seeing what people had to say about a particular video at exactly the right moment.

Episodic blogging, or the act of reviewing and discussing individual episodes on a blog, usually as they are released, is even more removed from the concept of “real time,” but just like Nico Nico Douga it has the ability to unite fans by actively engaging in the very zeitgeist of internet fandom itself, by experiencing a series almost as it is airing, and having the format feel a little more permanent and a little more focused than simply sharing talk on an internet forum.

However, the ideal of episodic blogging is not often met, and in some cases this has to do with the shows being blogged about not being particularly good for the concept of episodic blogging. These are the kinds of shows where the blogger might simply go, “Eh some stuff happened this episode. It was all right, I guess.” While knowing that an episode of some show might be average is still something possibly worth knowing, after a while it bogs down episodic blogs as a whole.

Now if there is one current show that I think is very well-deserving of episodic blogging, it is Durarara!

Here you have a show where every episode is so packed with information that the normal custom of summarizing the episode extensively can become a great boon, especially when it comes to recalling the events of a previous episode. It’s also an ideal show for episodic blogging because the theme of the show itself is related to “living in the present,” and practically reflects upon the online anime fandom itself (which is no doubt helped by having a couple of characters who are otaku). Most importantly however is that while the show is an on-going story, its structure is such that each individual episode stands as something to be scrutinized and discussed, with the next one building on top of that.

So for those bloggers out there who have been tackling Durarara! episode by episode, keep it up. It’ll be particularly interesting to see just how your opinions and predictions change over time if at all.

Female Characters in Shounen Fighting Series and the Meaning of “Strength”

Posted on by

Sometimes when discussing shounen fighting series, there are disagreements among fans as to what female characters are considered “strong” and which are considered “weak.” Someone will accuse one female character of being “useless,” while another will point out all that she’s done to help the good guys, and that she’s strong in her own way. While opinions may be opinions, I think that the nature of shounen fighting series makes it difficult for those types of characters.

Hokuto no Ken is a classic example of a series with female characters who are “strong-but-not-really.” Mamiya is a skilled fighter and trains hard to keep up in a world of mutant thugs armed with only a crossbow and some yo-yo’s, but she’s still a few tiers below Kenshiro and Friends. Yuria has great will and even greater compassion, but she’s not a fighter at all, and in this series, as strong as Kenshiro’s own compassion is, fist to face action is at the forefront.

And as much as I like Hyuuga Hinata from Naruto, and as much as I think she is an excellent character, I know that she is not meant to be one of those female characters who is actually able to keep up with the guys when the chips are down. And in fact, as far as I can tell, despite the fact that Naruto is full of skilled kunoichi, there are only two or three female characters in that series who can actually fight on an even keel with the guys: Tsunade, Temari, and maybe Kurenai. Sakura definitely had the potential, and was supposed to end up as being super strong and super determined, but she too has fallen victim to the Shounen Side Heroine Syndrome.

But being physically weaker or lacking in skills compared to the main hero and the guys doesn’t mean a female character will necessarily be “weak.” Nami and Nico Robin from One Piece are both excellent examples of characters who carry their own weight. And even before Nami gets the Clima-Tact and starts participating in battles, her skills are shown to be indispensable to the team. Another good example of a female character who uses the skills that she has and contributes immensely to the overall cause is Tokine from Kekkaishi. Tokine, while not capable of as much sheer “brute strength” as her male counterpart Yoshimori, is able to use her finesse to not only match him but often outperform him.

“But wait, weren’t you the one who talked about how great it is when characters accomplish things at their own pace? Isn’t that one of the great appeals of moe? And aren’t you a supporter of moe?” And you would be right on that, but again I must say that it has to do with the fact that shounen fighting series inevitably revolve around fighting or at the very least getting characters to a point at which they can fight. Basically, the moe series will define strength within the context of their series as overcoming a small adversity which is difficult for them in particular, while a shounen fighting series is all about displays of strength, even if they are fueled by friendship and honor.

The big, essential difference between the Sakura/Mamiya group and the Nami/Tokine group is “results.” Both groups of female characters might not have as much raw skill or ability or training or whatever as the guys do, but one of those groups gets things done. Nami and Tokine don’t just contribute to the overall goal by doing something like blocking the villain’s attack just that one vital moment so that the hero can get in the final shot, but instead actually accomplish significant goals, things that can move the story along. It’s not even that they simply defeat opponents that the others cannot, but that they will do what it takes to win.

This doesn’t even necessarily apply to female characters. All you need to to do is take a look at Usopp from One Piece as a good example of a character who fights with what he has. It’s just that this is often the situation in which female characters find themselves, and often it’s done so that the guys can come in and go, “Stand aside, ladies. It’s MAN TIME.”

…Which is not necessarily a bad thing either, as having the men be strongest in a series for boys makes all sorts of sense. It’s just that if someone’s looking for female characters who really pull their weight to accomplish an overall goal, they may end up disappointed as a result. Though not a shounen fighting series, Legend of the Galactic Heroes can often seem like a sausage fest despite a plethora of genuinely well-written, strong, and clever female characters because of the fact that none of them are out there commanding ships and fleets, i.e. the very activity that is at the absolute forefront of LoGH.

Again, I like a lot of female characters who might not be the best or the strongest but try their best to do what they can even if they can’t keep up with the boys, characters who do things their own way at their own pace. However, even if a series actually says explicity, “This girl is truly strong because she really tried and her help, however small, was essential for victory,” within the context of shounen fighting “strength” is more defined by the overall setup and themes of the story, and rarely is any amount of lip-service enough to make the readers truly think otherwise.

Nonexistent Rationality

Posted on by

In light of the Handley case’s conclusion and the recent measure in Tokyo to outlaw sexually provocative imagery of characters 18 and under to protect “nonexistent youths,” as well as the subsequent opposition by manga creators from all over Japan, I’ve felt an increasing desire to state my thoughts on the whole situation. I’m not really anybody who can affect a change, particularly when it comes to the Japanese government, but I still want to say my piece.

Before I begin, I want to explain my stance on objectionable art so that you can understand where I’m coming from. Ask two different people from similar upbringings to list their sexual kinks, and you would likely see differences in their answers. People’s sexualities are very personal things, and often times people cannot help what they are sexually attracted to. They can ignore it, they can actively avoid situations in which they are exposed to it, and being confused about their own sexuality can lead a person to think they’re into something they’re really not, but sexual attraction, to whatever it may be, will be there.

And so you’ll find situations where something one person finds sexually attractive will be absolutely repulsive and morally reprehensible to another. It is not absolutely not wrong for a person to feel disgusted with something that makes them highly uncomfortable, and it is their very right to think less of anyone who finds such a thing arousing. However, it is my belief that laws should not be passed based simply on the fact that something is seen as creepy or disgusting. Laws should not be carried by emotion alone. In order for it to be a crime, there should be a real risk of harm, be it physical, psychological, monetary, or some other form to another individual, something that makes it more than just a “bad feeling.”

With that in mind, I want to get into the main thrust of why this bill to protect “nonexistent youths” is so dangerous should it pass. Simply put, it is too broad in its scope and so vague in its language that it can encompass pretty much anything. It is based too much on vague “feelings” and is inherently flawed.

Pornography is one thing, but the proposal extends to all potentially sexually provocative portrayals of characters 18 and under. That covers a lot of ground. Let’s take a classic example of something easily sexualized which is also a part of everyday life: the short skirt. How short does it have to be in order to be considered sexually provocative? What is the threshold? Is it the standard length for a Japanese school uniform’s skirt? In that case, I don’t think I have to tell you that there is a sizable population that would disagree with that. In that case, let’s just get rid of all short skirts on minors in manga and anime. But even long dresses can be deemed sexually attractive, possibly more than short skirts, depending on the individual. The same thing applies to getting rid of dresses and skirts entirely and replacing them with pants. Forbid sexually provocative imagery? I can only believe that the people who drafted this proposal have no idea how powerful the human imagination can be, especially that of a horny teenager.

The teenager is also an important individual to consider with this proposal. The idea of removing fictional portrayals of people 18 and under that could be deemed sexually provocative feels like a myopic decision created in the world of adults. The proposal is there to prevent adults from looking at underage characters in a sexual manner, but not everybody reading manga is an adult. And while I know that it is difficult to determine age based on a drawing given the sheer unlimited possibilities that can occur when pen is put to paper and an image is created, let’s just assume for the sake of argument that we discovered a way to 100% accurately portray the age of a drawn character, that the 16-year old on the page is 16 years old. If you consider the reader to also be a 16-year old, then it would only make sense that they would be sexually attracted to that character, that a 16-year old can be sexually attractive at all. Yes, there is a risk involved with attracting people who are much older than teenagers, but if we were to apply that logic to the real world, to “existent youths,”  it would be as if teenagers were being told that they weren’t allowed to look attractive because there’s a risk people outside their age group might find them attractive as well, or saying that people 18 and under cannot look attractive at all. Again, when taken from a purely adult perspective, it’s easy to see why this would make sense, but not everyone in Japan is an adult, and not everyone reading manga is over the age of 18.

Taking a broad view of censorship, artists and creators will push the limits of censorship as far as they possibly can, no matter how strict or severe the censorship may be. Genitals are censored in Japanese pornography, but their porn industry has found a number of ways around the “mosaic.” Some companies push the limits of pixel size in the mosaic, boasting that their mosaics are extra small, while the very concept of bukkake possibly stems from the goal of showing evidence of the male genitals without actually displaying them. If a limit on skirt length really were to be decided and skirts were deemed “okay”  if they were less than 4 centimeters above the knees at most, then some manga creator or artist out there would make sure to point out that a girl’s skirt is 4.000001 cm above. It’s one thing to set a limit and say, “this is the point you must not cross,” but to try and prevent anything sexual from being portrayed in visual fiction is a losing battle forever thwarted by the endless creativity of artists.

I Can’t Believe It’s Not

Posted on by

A few days ago I was watching that old mainstay from my college days, the Food Network when something caught my eye. I don’t remember what show it was exactly, maybe Iron Chef America, but I took notice when the chef mentioned one ingredient in particular: margarine.

Now this was not one of those shows that was looking out for the well-being of your waist line, and so there was no way that the chef’s decision to use margarine in the dish was out of some desire to cut down on fat calories, but instead to use it because it has properties that butter simply does not. Looking at it, it was as if margarine had broken free of its shackles and stepped out of the shadow of butter. Margarine was no longer merely a substitute, but could be treated as a unique ingredient all its own.

Thinking about the identity of margarine, it reminded me somewhat of limited animation, particularly in regards to anime. While limited animation was born out of necessary budget constraints, over time as the children who watched early anime grew into adults, they embraced the “limited” style and created a sort of style and grammar all their own.

As for the unique properties of margarine, I’m not really sure what they are. I suspect it has to do with flavor and the way it transforms under heat. I’m no cooking expert, I just like food and anime (like most otaku).

RIGHT AND WRONG? PAH, SUCH TRIVIALITIES

Posted on by

Lately I’ve been watching Kekkaishi on Hulu, courtesy of VIZ. Every week they release two new episodes and it’s been fun to keep up with Yoshimori and Tokine and all their wacky adventures. The show is fun and clever with remarkably good characterization for a shounen fighting series. And when an episode ends on a cliffhanger, there I am eagerly waiting for the next episode to appear the following Monday.

Here’s the thing, though. I am in no way against fansubs, and I am well aware that Kekkaishi has been fansubbed in its entirety. With a few clicks I could easily be watching the next episode and the next one after that, all the way until I finish the entire series. But still I refrain from grabbing those fansubs, and it’s not out of some sense of right and wrong or loyalty to the fine companies that license anime. And so I begin to wonder what the hell is up with me.

In his Macross 7 podcast, Andrew talks about how important he believes not marathoning Macross 7 is to enjoying the show more, and this may be affecting my thinking. Part of it may also be that I want to enjoy the experience of watching a series a little bit at a time and in a way where I can plan my schedule around it instead of squeezing it into every moment that I can. Monday is Kekkaishi day; it’s a nice way of approaching watching anime, and leans a little closer to the “passive” side of anime fandom.

But the more I think about it, the more I believe that this conscious self-restraint is just out of sheer stubbornness, like I’m daring myself to see just how long I can keep this up. I’m not only watching only an episode or two a week, but doing it on purpose when I could quite easily do otherwise. I’ve subconsciously thrown down the gauntlet at myself.

One thing I realized about myself is that I enjoy having “streaks.” When I exercise, it’s only partially to keep healthy, and much of it has to do with stubbornly seeing just how long I can do it. I also basically dared myself into making at least one post every day here on Ogiue Maniax, and the result is that, short or long, drawing or writing, I’ve posted 7 days a week for over two years. Granted, I no longer have that early blogger desire to make multiple posts in a day just because I can, but I think that’s more a matter of pacing myself.

So let’s see if I can finish Kekkaishi this way. Even if I fail, I think the experience will have been well worth it either way.

Impatience and Experience and Competitive Gaming Sequels

Posted on by

I am, perhaps by nature, not the most competitive person around. I like to win for sure, and I like to improve my chances of winning when in competition, but I have never had that win-at-all-costs attitude which defines the most successful players in any game or activity. Still, I have spent time in and observing many communities, particularly in the area of video games, and I’ve come to notice a number of trends which all seem to stem from the same fountain of human behavior and irrationality.

When it comes to “professional gaming,” there is no example more prominent than the Korean Starcraft scene. It is by far the most refined and successful example of video game as competition. Finally however, Starcraft 2 is right on the horizon, with a beta version out. I have not had the fortune of playing this game, and in fact I have not played the original Starcraft in well over six years. But as much as I am inexperienced in the scene itself, I am still fascinated by its growth. To that end, I have been listening to podcasts about the SC2 beta, particularly the “Team Liquid Beta Podcast,” recorded by Sean “Day[9]” Plott and his friend Tristan. Sean Plott is a very famous American player who is known not only for his skills behind a keyboard, but his incredibly analytical mind. In episode 3 of the podcast, he addresses an idea which has been floating around, the idea that Starcraft 2 is less suited for competition than its predecessor, and makes too many concessions to neophytes. And it very well might, but as Sean points out, it’s rather curious that people would be so quick to jump to conclusions on a game which isn’t even officially out yet, a prototype which can very well experience drastic changes. Herein lies the logical irrationality I spoke of.

Through the hours of effort put into it by players in Korea as well as in every other country which houses competitive spirit for Starcraft, many discoveries have been made over a decade that have pushed the game to points that would seem unbelievable to fans of the past. It took time and effort and I think everybody who likes this game is likely grateful for a number of these progressions, if not all of them. But the mistake that the players of the beta make here, and it’s a mistake I can point out despite never having played the game, is sheer impatience. The error of reasoning in this situation is the idea that just because the community is so experienced with its predecessor and the process of discovering concepts and techniques to foster and push competition, that the same progress not only could happen in the sequel at an accelerated rate, but that it should happen.

This is not the only time I have seen this impatience in action. For years I was and still am a big fan of the Super Smash Bros. series, and have played every incarnation of the game. I pride myself on being fairly good at Smash, albeit not at the highest levels of competition, but I have a keen understanding of the whole deal.

While the original Nintendo 64 Super Smash Bros. did well enough, it was with its Gamecube sequel, Super Smash Bros. Melee, that a competitive community truly began to form. Like Starcraft, the players, full of desire to win, created and discovered new techniques which pushed the game to unforeseeable levels. And just like Starcraft, when a sequel in the form of Super Smash Bros. Brawl appeared, people were quick to compare it to its predecessor (as one could only expect), and just as quickly pass judgment on it, decrying it as lacking the “advanced techniques” and overall suitability for a competitive game, and making big and bold declarations after the game had only been out mere weeks. Again, the same flawed reasoning appeared. “With all of our experience in Melee, advanced techniques should be getting discovered at a fraction of the time it took originally! We have more people and we don’t have that period where people were just messing around!” In addition, players were quick to establish a set of “tournament rules” at blinding speed, stifling the idea of discovery for discovery’s sake with the desire to simply win at “legitimate” competitive venues.

Why is there such impatience when it comes to competitive sequels? I understand well the idea that a follow-up to a popular competitive game will be compared to the original. It’s all but inevitable. And I also understand that people want to make sure their skills translate from one game to the next. But still, I can’t help but feel that this impatience can only hurt a competitive scene. Discovery happens not only when you cut away the fat, but also when you expand and explore, and such things take time, even if you have years and years of experience.

There is actually a game in which I have devoted myself to competition before, and that is Pokemon. I have played Pokemon more than perhaps any other game series, participating in tournaments and discussions and spending days and nights thinking of possible teams and avenues of victory. And though my main focus is on exploration and discovery and trying to find holes in the “metagame,” I have seen the state of competition as it applies to the Pokemon series, from the early days of Red and Blue all the way up to the recent generation starting with Diamond and Pearl, and two things are always clearly inevitable as the scene transitions from one version of the game to the next. First, we bring with us all of our old ideas about what makes a team strong, and what we predict will be the vanguards of victory and competition. Second, those theories are smashed and obliterated as we realize that, as similar as the games are to each other, subtle differences can have wide-reaching effects in the most unpredictable of ways. And it’s going to happen again and again and again.

There is no specific point at which you can officially decide if a game is worthwhile for competition or not, and it is very possible that initial reactions will be validated. Still, impatience brought on by the “pride of experience” is an incredibly dangerous thing to any competitive scene, and the sooner people realize this, the better.

Easy Doesn’t Mean Boring

Posted on by

After having beaten and reviewed Megaman 10 on its Normal difficulty, today I revisited the game on Easy Mode, playing alongside someone who doesn’t have quite as much experience with the series and so doesn’t quite have the same tolerance for abuse built in. What I discovered was that even for someone who had already finished the game on a more difficult setting, Megaman 10 is still a very fun game and having my mind somewhat at ease (though not entirely of course!) let me more fully appreciate the finer aspects of the gameplay, particularly the controls. It just really reminded me how Megaman is known for good controls despite the titular character’s sub-par leaping abilities.

I think it’s very easy to make the mistake of thinking that the fun of Megaman games is in its challenge when the NES-hard style only plays a partial role in the overall experience. It might be the one you remember the most, but it’s the rest of the game which keeps you coming back.

The fact that easy mode is fun to play with multiple people has gotten me to thinking about other games which have tried to encourage people of varying skill levels to play together without fear of reprisal, be it from those same friends or from the computer. A recent popular example is New Super Mario Bros. Wii, which allows for 4-player simultaneous action and a unique system which allows players to “skip” sections while other players handle a particularly troublesome area should they choose to do so. It’s not perfect, but it keeps things moving along, and you can tell that they put a lot of consideration into this mechanic. A more classic example is introducing luck into a game. With just the right amount, it can make things exciting, and cries of “unfair!” can sometimes just entice those same complainers to play even more. I should know, mahjong can have that effect.

One really good example of a game that fosters play between beginners and experts is the Smash Bros. series. With its 4-player simultaneous action, you can get a lot of people in on it at once. More importantly though, its “Time” setting, which has everyone fight until a preset time limit, allows everyone, win or lose, to play the same amount per match. Contrast this with “Stock,” where once you lose all of your lives you are unable to play anymore. For a new player, this can be very boring as you watch the better players continue to have fun while you just sit there unable to participate in any manner except verbally (or blocking the TV and knocking away controllers if you want your ass kicked).

What’s kind of funny though is that a good deal of people, particularly overly competitive individuals, seem to have trouble understanding this idea of having games and game modes which allow everyone to derive enjoyment in roughly equal portions, as if they don’t comprehend enjoying the game as anything but a bloody battle to the top. While there are games which take the balancing factor too far (recent Mario Kart games are kind of notorious for this), I think overall games can benefit from just having things everyone can enjoy, even if it’s having both COMPETITIVE PRO KOREA MAPS and BIG GAME HUNTERS for Starcraft.

Speaking of competitive gamers and such, it seems like almost every community makes the same mistakes, but I’ll leave that topic for another time.