Category Archives: philosophy

John Rambo and Sorrowful Warriors

Posted on by

In a prior discussion with Sub of Subatomic Brainfreeze, he brought to my attention the existence of a Sega-made Japanese arcade game based off of Rambo. Yes, the 80s Sylvester Stallone movie franchise. He told me all about how indicative the game was of how the Japanese perceived the movies and John Rambo as a character, and upon further thinking it shed light on a difference between Japanese and American culture.

According to Sub, the narration in the Rambo Arcade Game places great emphasis on how “sorrowful” John Rambo is as a person, and this idea of Rambo carrying great sadness within his stoicism is repeated throughout. Well of course that makes sense. This is the same culture which gave us Kenshiro, and Kenshiro is all about being a stoic hero who is full of emotion within.

As far as either of us could tell, in Japanese fiction stoicism acts as an indicator for emotion and sorrow, which contrasts greatly with the American idea of the expressionless badass, who while not entirely without emotion tends to be “unmoved” by traumatic events or the plights of others, though still willing to do the “right thing.” Their tears are not allowed, as they are a sign of emasculation.

I thought about the concept of the “sorrowful warrior” and any portrayals in Japanese entertainment thereof, and I recalled one in particular: Sol Badguy.

Sol is the hero of the Guilty Gear series of fighting games, and his character is quite reminiscent of Joutarou from JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. He doesn’t talk much, is quite aloof, usually has a hardened expression on his face, and is incredibly adept in combat. It’s easy to see him as just a guy who knows what he wants and acts on his own, but then I remembered a significant fact about Sol Badguy.

As with many fighting games, characters in Guilty Gear have their own theme songs/stage background music, and Sol is no exception. The Guilty Gear series took it one step further and gave all of the characters vocal versions of their respective themes, and the first lyrics in Sol’s theme song say it all:

He’s a sad soldier.

I have to wonder, is it the case where whenever Japan and America see the same stoic badass hero, each ends up having a very different perception?


Otaku Diaries and Fans on Fans

Posted on by

This month, the Otaku Diaries look at possibly their most interesting topics yet: how anime fans perceive anime fans, the idea of fandom as a community, and our terrible/awesome sexual fetishes manifested in 2-d form. Have you ever been ashamed of other anime fans? Well you’re not alone, as the majority of the people surveyed by the Otaku Diaries believed the same thing. Check it out, and tell them what you think.

Hisui and Narutaki bring up an excellent point in that it seems as if fans (and people at large) are quick to point fingers and acknowledge the flaws of others without taking a good long look at themselves. Personally speaking, I can be just as guilty of this as anyone else.

While open-mindedness is certainly a noble trait I try to maintain and promote in others, I’m also aware that it’s extremely difficult for anyone to remain so all the time. We all have our values, and values have limits that can be crossed. When you look at the fandom, it’s easy to remember only the “yaoi paddles,” the “black-ups,” the actions that seem born out the desire to fit in and stand out simultaneously, and then lament that you are being associated with these people. You do not want shame by association.

The desire to not seem inferior in the eyes of others is not exclusive to otaku or geeks, but I think it’s particularly interesting among nerdish hobbyists because of how those who have been shunned tend to turn around and draw their own lines in the sand. Whether it’s gamers at WCG USA 2009 refusing to acknowledge that their national finals took place at an anime convention, or a fan’s desire to not be associated with lolicon getting so extreme that they lash out at any modicum of fanservice real or otherwise, we get to see nerds condemn other nerds for the sake of appearing more legitimate. Even the fact that the definitions of nerd, geek, and otaku are argued about with some regularity are indicative of this tendency to want to stand out while also fitting in. Is any of this all that different from the glompers and /b/tards?

The reason that we as fans can get so incensed about our fandom is that we place so much of our emotions into our hobby. Whether we’re overly cynical or too forgiving, we at some point decided that discussing and arguing about anime, manga, and the people who love them has been a fight worth fighting. Those who actively try to separate themselves from the riff-raff are perhaps the most guilty of all.

I think the most important realization to make is that we’re all works in progress, we can all stand for some improvement, and we all often confuse “improvement” with “further mistakes.” Do not condemn the fandom as a whole, but do not go against your own values. Do not ignore your own mistakes, but do not look down upon yourself for being flawed.

Through all this, one thing remains true: No one wants to be truly alone. Even the most arrogant, the most self-centered, and the most unsociable people in the world would still jump at the chance to have someone out there who truly understands them and makes them feel good to be themselves.

Miyamoto Shigeru Agrees with Me

Posted on by

I previously made a post positing that one of the big changes that occurred in video game graphics around the NES era was that character’s began to have faces. Their eyes and mouths (or approximations thereof) made the characters more relatable.

While I thought it made perfect sense, I realize that aside from my visual analysis there wasn’t a whole lot of record and evidence to back it up. But then recently while reading the New Super Mario Bros. Wii interview, the creator of Mario himself Miyamoto Shigeru said something which helped support my theory immensely.

Iwata
Mario’s trademarks are his moustache, his hat and his overalls. Why did you decide to give him this look? I have no doubt you’ve spoken about this many times before, but I’d like to take this opportunity to ask you to tell us about it one more time.

Miyamoto
Certainly. The original Mario was a 16 X 16 pixilated image. At that time, when games made overseas used human characters, they were always rendered with life-like proportions.

Iwata
It felt as if the developers weren’t happy unless they’d drawn a figure that was eight-heads tall.

Miyamoto
Or sometimes it would be six-heads tall. But actually, the number of pixels we were able to use was so limited that, if we did that, we’d only have had a couple of pixels for the face.

Iwata
With two pixels, you wouldn’t even have been able to draw eyes. You’d basically have ended up with a matchstick figure. In early video games from overseas, that kind of figure often featured.

Miyamoto
And as they just didn’t resemble human figures, I was absolutely convinced that they’d been designed by people who couldn’t draw!

Iwata
(laughs)

Miyamoto
I thought it was most likely that it was the programmer who was drawing these figures. But I thought: “I know how to draw!” I mean, I’m not saying I can draw as well as an artist, but I was confident that I was better at drawing than a programmer. That’s why I started by saying: “Right, let’s draw something that actually looks like a person’s face!” So I drew the eyes, the nose, the mouth and…
Miyamoto goes on to talk about how in creating the face, it left him with very few pixels to actually design a body, and that Mario’s look was essentially dictated by function (Mario has a mustache so that they didn’t have to draw a mouth). What’s important in Miyamoto’s words is that he saw how most of the characters in games abroad were attempts to replicate a “realistic” human figure, and he still made an effort to give his character Mario some semblance of a personality by giving him facial features, even if those features were the result of limitations.
Certainly it wasn’t impossible or uncommon for games prior to Donkey Kong to have personality of their own, and Miyamoto certainly wasn’t the first to give facial features to his characters (Pac-Man being the most obvious example), it does show the kind of thinking that would go on to implicitly influence generations of gamers.

Ogiue Maniax’s (Late) Second Anniversary Celebration

Posted on by

It seems like I have a tendency lately to forget important dates, even those of the things I care about most. November 20, 2009 came and went, though drawing something after having not done so in a while might have been an adequate way of marking the second anniversary of Ogiue Maniax. Still it’s no Genshiken Review, and I think I should celebrate two years of writing and analyzing and making terrible puns with some panache. Seeing as how tomorrow is Stuff Your Face with Food All Day… Day… I’ll save the Thank You’s for the next post. Instead, I’ll talk about how I’ve felt the blog has changed and changed me since I began working on it.

It was over two years ago that I began to realize that I enjoyed writing, and not just any writing but the kind that is meant to inform and enlighten and to encourage others to think. I was given opportunities on both Heisei Democracy and Towards Our Memories to write a little, and from there I decided to just dive in and start my own blog. I named it after the Genshiken character Ogiue Chika, who I believe to be the most deeply complex, emotionally moving, and overall amazing character to ever appear. I intended to use the blog to record my thoughts on the mediums that I love, even if it was just a brief inkling, and to help not only others to learn but myself as well.

Being able to accurately convey my thoughts while also challenging myself to think beyond my own point of view gave me a new and different sense of confidence that what I’d experienced previously, especially when I began to see others respond, and to weigh in with their own words. This in turn would motivate my desire to write even more, and before I knew it, I had improved as both a writer and as an anime fan.

And to you my readers, though I said I would not give thanks, I have to make an exception here. Thank you for respecting my words as much as I respect yours. The comment philosophy at Ogiue Maniax is to allow all comments as long as they are relevant, as it encourages everyone to engage in dialogue and to better understand each other. And if you’re a troll you’re all the more welcome, as it gives me the opportunity to further clarify my points. At that point, it’s up to every individual reader to decide if they agree with me or not.

Ogiue Maniax, two years old. Get ready, because this baby’s starting to walk.

“Tanaka! Are You Paying Attention?”

Posted on by

In my opinion one of the best things about the old Shounen Jump manga Kinnikuman was that it allowed kids to submit their own designs for wrestlers with the possibility of their characters appearing in the actual comic. Not only that, some of those submissions became full-on major characters in the story of Kinnikuman. Even if they were sometimes just Hulk Hogan in a mask, it provided a level of interaction with the readers and imbued the story with a greater amount of childhood imagination. I wrote a small review a while back, in case you’re curious about what the series is ctually like.

In 1999 though, Kinnikuman received a sequel, Kinnikuman II: Second Generation, which is still running today Known in the US as Ultimate Muscle, the big difference between Kinnikuman II and the original was that instead of targeting kids, the new series targets the kids who grew up loving Kinnikuman who were now adults, much like the relationship between Hokuto no Ken and Souten no Ken. Shounen manga’s changed in the last 20 years, and a series like Kinnikuman would not have the easiest time in this new era of Shounen.

The sequel receives submissions for wrestler designs just like the original manga, only instead of it being from Tanaka Hiroshi Age 11, it’s now Tanaka Hiroshi Age 27, which has me picturing a salaryman on the train or in a board meeting eagerly sketching out a Choujin Wrestler on a notebook lying against his briefcase. He’ll be sitting there as the company president is detailing their new financial plan, drawing the buzz saw that comes out of the wrestler’s legs.

“Tanaka! Are you paying attention?”

“Yes sir, I’m just…taking notes.”

“Oh…very well then. Good job, keep it up.”

Tanaka then sits down and adds some electricity lines to his character’s muscles, for extra power.

Cliff Notes Characterization: Another Moe Discussion Part 3

Posted on by

In my previous two entries in the Another Moe Discussion series, I may have generated some confusion on the topic, particularly because my own choices for characters I find to be particularly moe may seem somewhat unusual. In addition, reading the comments I received,  a question popped up in my head: does the “moe” label imply a certain character depth or a lack thereof? The answer I’ve come up with is that it is both and neither. A seeming cop-out response, but allow me to explain.

Let’s say there’s an anime series you absolutely love, and in it is a character with strong characterization who goes through some trauma, and in the process resonates with you emotionally, possibly sexually, and you want to tell other people how great the character is and how powerfully attractive they are. The best way to try and make them understand would be to get them to watch the series, but if that is an impossibility, the best you can do is summarize the character and try to describe in fewer words just what made the character move you so. If you have to summarize your complex feelings towards the character in a few sentences, you’re going to have to either pick very specific moments or generalize greatly to give a broader view.

Now then, what happens if all copies of the original work fell into the ocean without any chance of salvaging them, and all the world had left was that summary you wrote? To be sure, your summation has its own merits, as does your intent to really get to the core of what makes you love that character so dearly, but what you’re left with now is a record of that depth. It would be like if nearly every book in the world on a subject was destroyed and the only ones left unharmed were Cliff Notes, and then everyone assumed that this is the way things are and also begin to write their own original stories in the Cliff Notes format. The summary becomes the entirety of the work.

Let’s use a famous character who is often argued as both moe and not-moe: Evangelion’s Ayanami Rei. Having watched the entirety of the original Evangelion series, I can say that there is a lot to Rei’s character to the extent that it’s somewhat difficult to summarize her character and do her justice, but if I had to, I would describe her as an expressionless girl who is fully aware of the fact that she is not unlike a human doll, and has to live while being unsure as to whether or not her emotions are real or just facsimiles. Rei often puts herself into danger as she does not regard her own life as more special or important than the task at hand. To abridge that once more, “Rei is a seemingly emotionless human doll who has little regard for her own well-being.”

But what happens if you take that Cliff Notes version and were to simplify it even further? A Spark Notes of the Cliff Notes one might say. What if you were to reduce the element of time down to zero, and attempt to express those aspects of Rei purely in her visual design? Blue hair and pale skin make her appear more doll-like. An expressionless face implies a seeming lack of emotion. The frequent appearance of bandages on her body implies that she often gets injured. These visual elements become symbols with their own power, which then can be isolated, codified, and even fetishized. Rather than looking for a character by their description as a conflicted human doll who struggles with understanding emotion, you can instead look for a character with pale features. And then you can play off of that trope by making a pale character who acts unlike the stereotype. That leads us to where we are now.

Depending on the extent to which you simplify and distill the attributes of a character, moe can be something with plenty of depth or very little, be it an emotional depth, a storytelling depth, or some other kind. I think this also explains why some people can have such a bad reaction towards moe, because it can be seen as a reduction of what should be there, a quick-and-dirty facsimile of storytelling and characterization. However we must also keep in mind that art and fiction itself is often an exercise in summarizing and simplifying ideas and emotions to transmit them more easily.

Static vs Active: Another Moe Discussion Part 2

Posted on by

Yesterday, I made a post about how the “issue” of moe basically came down to whether or not it was personally offensive to someone. I didn’t go into what “is” or “is not” moe, as what was important there was not to get people to agree to any one definition but to point out the fundamentals of why moe can make for such heated debates and arguments. Today though, I want to talk about one of the possible reasons why discussions regarding moe can often seem like the two sides are arguing two entirely different topics. Keep in mind that my goal is not to show one side being right and another wrong, but to help you better understand why it is you, I, or anyone has developed their respective opinions on the topic of moe.

In the past, I’ve defined moe as a strong empathy for a character’s weaknesses, but knew that not everyone would necessarily agree with my interpretation. The more I studied my own definition and others’ however, the more I realized that there was some mix-up as to what different people considered the most important element in defining moe. From there, I thought up two general categories: static moe and active moe.

Static moe is where a character’s design and basic attributes are moe. The character’s voice, personality, unique physical traits, etc. all contribute to static moe. The idea is not to pull a character completely out of their context, but to see them in a stilled moment and gain moe from that.

Active moe is achieved through a character’s actions or what happens to them in the context of an animation. It is in the way they change or interact with their world that creates moe. In a way, this moe lacks concrete evidence, and is built into how the character grows on the viewer.

If we look at Tsukimiya Ayu from Kanon, her love of Taiyaki, tomboyish personality, lack of cooking skills, and penchant for saying “Uguu~” are all elements of static moe. Ayu’s interactions with Yuuichi, the way the two characters grow closer as friends, and the manner in which we learn about her true identity are what comprise Ayu’s active moe. To generalize, static moe is the stationary character, while active moe is the character in motion.

Now, what contributes most to your perception of moe? Whether you like moe or not, do you view moe as primarily static, where the most vital aspect of it is the design of the character, or do you view it as primarily active, with the greatest emphasis on the path the character takes?

Using myself as an example, when I examined the characters I found to be the most moe (Ogiue, Eureka, Hinata, etc.), I realized that my views on moe were shaped mostly by my own emphasis on what they had done as characters. In other words, I was moved strongly by their active moe. Again though, it’s not as if moe as active will make you like it, or thinking of moe as static will make you dislike it, but I think that the view of moe people have shaped in their mind relative to this dichotomy strongly influences their opinion as a whole, whether they realize it or not.

That’s Part 2 of Another Moe Discussion. Is there going to be a Part 3? A likely possibility, as I do have something in mind.

Two Questions: Another Moe Discussion Part 1

Posted on by

Hi kids, it’s time to talk about moe again.

There’s two things I want to address here, the first is what is up with the strong feelings towards/against moe. The second topic I’m going to address tomorrow, so hold onto your hats!

We as anime fans on the internet can argue about moe all we want, whether it’s hurting or helping the industry or anime as an art form, whether it’s a boon or a detriment to storytelling, but when you strip away all of the noble back-and-forth posturing and gesturing, it basically comes down to two “yes” or “no” questions.

Does moe creep you out?

If so, are you okay with that?

And this is based on however you yourself interpret moe to be. Of course I’m generalizing, and there can be other reasons to dislike it, but from what I’ve seen this is the origin of the most vehement opposition to it is from the people who just cannot handle the idea that anyone proper of mind would like moe of all things, and its most ardent supporters are the ones who take offense to the idea that they are somehow developmentally insufficient.

Now it’s okay to be creeped out by moe, as that’s totally your prerogative. I may like moe myself, but it’s not like there hasn’t ever been an instance where I was creeped out by a piece of fiction and I was not okay with that. Specifically, I’m talking about that awful Thundercats comic from a few years back where they had Wily Kit and Wily Kat as bondage slaves to Mumm-Ra. Sure, they were adults in the comic but what the hell. That really weird sexualization of two comic side characters from a children’s cartoon bothered the hell out of me, especially because this was not some guy’s fanart but an actual official comic that was supposed to be like canon to the Thundercats story. In many ways I think it’s similar to the reaction that a lot of its opponents have against moe, replacing Thundercats with anime as a whole.

As to what influences perception of moe, that’s for the next post.

“Why Do Attempts to Look Manga-Style Tend to Go Wrong?”

Posted on by

I’ve never been able to pinpoint the exact causes for why drawing “manga” style typically doesn’t look quite right, but there’s some things I’ve noticed that I think point towards why this tends to be the case.

The artists did not grow up in the culture. I had a Japanese teacher who one day as part of a vocabulary exercise brought into class a drawing she made of a “handsome guy.” Now, my teacher was not an artist, but the picture she drew was clearly that of a manga-style character and nothing seemed out of place. It was just, when drawing a cartoon character who’s supposed to look stereotypically handsome, this is how it turns out. While I don’t think not growing up in Japan or Japanese precludes an artist from developing that style, I think you can see how growing up in different environments with different artistic influences can change how even a normal person draws or sees drawings, let alone a professional.

But what then are those stylistic differences? Why is it that a manga artist who draws super realistically can still feel naturally like manga? Why is it that even a lot of the non-Japanese artists who get the basic visuals right (i.e. understanding that it’s not just big eyes and small mouths) still tend to produce works that jar you out of the illusion?

The first big one is the different philosophies in paneling. Traditionally in manga, the flow of panels is very important to the story, with emphasis on the concept of “flow.” That’s not really an official term or anything, but it’s one I like to use. Manga are typically designed to have the readers’ eyes be guided smoothly through the page, from one panel to the next, with everything in the panel, art and word bubbles and all, facilitating this flow. While American comics for example also take care to utilize word bubbles in strategic areas to help move the reader along, traditionally the American comic has been about having self-contained panels, each of which encapsulates everything going on at the time, a perfectly stilled moment. I’m reminded of when Grant Morrison in an interview after Final Crisis said, “We talk about events all the time. Well, why can’t every panel be an event?” In a way, he’s not far off from the tradition of Western-style comics, whether it’s indie, superheroes, or newspaper gag strips. It’s also what I think is the real difference between “compressed” and “decompressed” storytelling.

Basically, think of manga as a river, and American comics as a series of ponds. While of course there’s more to comics than just America and Japan, I’m simplifying for the sake of what little claims to brevity I have left. And while there are exceptions on both sides, take note how a manga with not as much “flow” such as Space Adventure Cobra or Nausicaa do well in the west, particularly Europe where highly illustrative backgrounds tend to be emphasized, or how an American comic with a strong sense of visual “flow” in Little Nemo could be seen fondly in Japan (at least I believe it is, if someone can correct me, please do so).

And then there’s other smaller things. Scott McCloud in Understanding Comics for example talks about how back when romance stories in American comics were more common, they still tended to compose scenes as if all of the characters were figures placed in a room. Contrast this with shoujo manga, which tends to emphasize the emotional over the physical; it’s not as important that you know where characters are standing.

But that only applies to manga, right? What about all those cartoons that try, but don’t quite get it. Your Teen Titans and Totally Spies and what-not. There, I’m not as certain about it, but I think it just has to do with what’s considered common in Japanese Animation to the point of it being ingrained into the system. I think the most prominent example of this might be animating on the 3’s, which means changing the image on every third frame instead of every second one as is common with American cartoons. This was originally one of many necessary money-saving techniques for anime on limited budgets as far back as Astro Boy, and what ended up happening was that stuff like animating on 3’s and using lots of stills and closeups, stuff which had its origins in having scarily low budgets, began to be embraced and improved upon and mastered until it in essence became the style anime is known for. What’s important here is the way in which factors such as these influenced the sense of timing that anime tends to have, and if you don’t understand that sense of timing then it becomes difficult to replicate it. Anime has a unique sense of timing.

To summarize, what makes manga seem like manga and what makes anime seem like anime goes deeper than how the characters or backgrounds look, all the way to how the story is told through the visuals. Another important thing to remember is that this is less about quality, or why one is “better” or “worse” than the other, and more about why things are the way they are from the worst comics to the best ones. If you were to compare X-Men: Misfits, an American comic trying to be manga, and that Japanese X-Men manga I posted about a while back, a Japanese comic trying to be American, you’d see that neither one is able to fully escape their origins. Whether these are the most significant factors, I don’t know, but that’s what I’ve seen.

 

I’ve never been able to pinpoint the exact causes for why drawing “manga” style typically doesn’t look quite right, but there’s some things I’ve noticed that I think point towards why this tends to be the case.

The artists did not grow up in the culture. I had a Japanese teacher who one day as part of a vocabulary exercise brought into class a drawing she made of a “handsome guy.” Now, my teacher was not an artist, but the picture she drew was clearly that of a manga-style character and nothing seemed out of place. It was just, when drawing a cartoon character who’s supposed to look stereotypically handsome, this is how it turns out. While I don’t think not growing up in Japan or Japanese precludes an artist from developing that style, I think you can see how growing up in different environments with different artistic influences can change how even a normal person draws or sees drawings, let alone a professional.

But what then are those stylistic differences? Why is it that a manga artist who draws super realistically can still feel naturally like manga? Why is it that even a lot of the non-Japanese artists who get the basic visuals right (i.e. understanding that it’s not just big eyes and small mouths) still tend to produce works that jar you out of the illusion?

The first big one is the different philosophies in paneling. Traditionally in manga, the flow of panels is very important to the story, with emphasis on the concept of “flow.” That’s not really an official term or anything, but it’s one I like to use. Manga are typically designed to have the readers’ eyes be guided smoothly through the page, from one panel to the next, with everything in the panel, art and word bubbles and all, facilitating this flow. While American comics for example also take care to utilize word bubbles in strategic areas to help move the reader along, traditionally the American comic has been about having self-contained panels, each of which encapsulates everything going on at the time, a perfectly stilled moment. I’m reminded of when Grant Morrison in an interview after Final Crisis said, “We talk about events all the time. Well, why can’t every panel be an event?” In a way, he’s not far off from the tradition of Western-style comics, whether it’s indie, superheroes, or newspaper gag strips. It’s also what I think is the real difference between “compressed” and “decompressed” storytelling.

Basically, think of manga as a river, and American comics as a series of ponds. While of course there’s more to comics than just America and Japan, I’m simplifying for the sake of what little claims to brevity I have left. And while there are exceptions on both sides, take note how a manga with not as much “flow” such as Space Adventure Cobra or Nausicaa do well in the west, particularly Europe where highly illustrative backgrounds tend to be emphasized, or how an American comic with a strong sense of visual “flow” in Little Nemo could be seen fondly in Japan (at least I believe it is, if someone can correct me, please do so).

And then there’s other smaller things. Scott McCloud in Understanding Comics for example talks about how back when romance stories in American comics were more common, they still tended to compose scenes as if all of the characters were figures placed in a room. Contrast this with shoujo manga, which tends to emphasize the emotional over the physical; it’s not as important that you know where characters are standing.

But that only applies to manga, right? What about all those cartoons that try, but don’t quite get it. Your Teen Titans and Totally Spies and what-not. There, I’m not as certain about it, but I think it just has to do with what’s considered common in Japanese Animation to the point of it being ingrained into the system. I think the most prominent example of this might be animating on the 3’s, which means changing the image on every third frame instead of every second one as is common with American cartoons. This was originally one of many necessary money-saving techniques for anime on limited budgets as far back as Astro Boy, and what ended up happening was that stuff like animating on 3’s and using lots of stills and closeups, stuff which had its origins in having scarily low budgets, began to be embraced and improved upon and mastered until it in essence became the style anime is known for. What’s important here is the way in which factors such as these influenced the sense of timing that anime tends to have, and if you don’t understand that sense of timing then it becomes difficult to replicate it. Anime has a unique sense of timing.

To summarize, what makes manga seem like manga and what makes anime seem like anime goes deeper than how the characters or backgrounds look, all the way to how the story is told through the visuals. Another important thing to remember is that this is less about quality, or why one is “better” or “worse” than the other, and more about why things are the way they are from the worst comics to the best ones. If you were to compare X-Men: Misfits, an American comic trying to be manga, and that Japanese X-Men manga I posted, a Japanese comic trying to be American, you’d see that neither one is able to fully escape their origins. Whether these are the most significant factors, I don’t know, but that’s what I’ve seen.

The Myopic Focus of Online Discussion: An Otaku Crush Post

Posted on by

I made a post about some of my views regarding interacting with others online, and I’ve posted it at Otaku Crush. Being an Otaku Dating and Social Networking Site and all, I think it’s the ideal venue for this sort of thing.

Feel free to comment to this post or the one at Otaku Crush, and tell me what you think.