Category Archives: philosophy

Good Slow Power Creep

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Hajime no Ippo is getting a new anime this winter. Eyeshield 21 just finished what one might call its “Part 1.” Both have gone on for many chapters, and both are excellent examples of how to properly show the progress in skill of their characters. There are many reasons why I call this Good Slow Power Creep, and much of it has to do with making the increasing skill levels feel as natural as possible.

In both Hajime no Ippo and Eyeshield 21, the natural progression of their main characters’ abilities in their respective endeavors are tied to the natural progress of the art by their creators. Both start off weak and dumpy-looking, visually the art styles are decent but could stand for major improvement. As the series have progressed over the years, both Sena and Ippo begin to look better and better, gaining maturity and confidence just as the artists have as well. As the artists’ techniques become more sophisticated, Sena and Ippo make leaps and bounds over their former selves. It’s as if the effort of these heroes is a direct result of the effort put forth by their creators.

The best thing about the gradual and almost-unnoticeable power creep is that neither series feels like it’s jumped any sharks. Quite the opposite, they feel like they’ve only just begun. If ever either series begins to falter, I think it’ll be evident in how (un)natural the skill progression will feel.

Living Off the Scraps of Continuity

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Although continuity is commonplace in anime, while growing I always assumed a kids’ show would essentially reset itself after the half hour was over. It was safe, it was reassuring. Nobody died or suffered any lasting consequences unless it was a two-part episode, and then it would simply reset back to square 1 at the end of the following week. I craved continuity, piecing together episodes in my head and a personal fanon (before I knew of the term) in the way a child only could. That’s why it was all the more amazing whenever a show would tease the viewer with bits of continuity.

King Mondo directly confronting the Zeo Power Rangers impressed me. So was finding out that one of Grimlord’s lieutenants was the father of the primary VR Trooper. But nothing comes to mind more than Conan the Adventurer.

Conan the Adventurer was a child-friendly version of Conan the Barbarian where Conan and friends sent their enemies “to another dimension” before Saban decided to bestow that phrase upon its Dragon Ball Z dub. And while Conan met his friends across the land and sea, and they didn’t go away after an episode, Conan never seemed to get any closer to reversing the spell of living stone cast upon his family by the evil Wrath-Amon, the very impetus of his quest. Imagine my surprise one morning(no really, do it!) when I saw Conan and his allies directly fighting not only Wrath-Amon but his lord and master Set, the big final boss master of the series. Not only that, Conan actually managed to soundly defeat both of them and even finally save his family. To actually have a satisfying conclusion to a cartoon adventure, it was such a rare sight that the memory stuck with me, as you might have noticed) even if the show was actually not that great.

But even if a show had no sense of continuity or concept of lasting consequences, I wanted there to be some. It wasn’t what I would call a burning desire, but the shows which gave me a taste of what continuity could add to a story, and the shows without continuity which simply made me want it more, I think it’s definitely one of the many factors that got me into anime.

A very important piece of advice

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No matter the situation, be very careful of demonizing the other. No matter the topic, the person on the other side of the fence isn’t a faceless enemy but a fellow human being.

I-it’s not like I want to be tsundere, okay?!

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Yes, this is another post about Aisaka Taiga. Let’s call this a Taiga Weekend Carnival.

Previously, I’ve established my belief that moe is tied to empathy, it is the connection of viewer to character in regards to some type of weakness, though the character may not necessarily be weak, physically, mentally, or emotionally. Think of it as a character having relatable character traits-which-may-be-interpreted as flaws. In this regard, Aisaka Taiga, the tora in Toradora, is one of the most effectively moe tsundere characters I have ever seen, a tsundere moe on the level of Ogiue. Tsundere has become a very common trope in otaku-oriented media, so to describe what makes Taiga a very moe character is to explain why she stands out from her peers. And to explain that is to explain why Taiga is tsundere.

Taiga is a girl who has difficulty expressing her own emotions. When Taiga speaks, her words are the culmination of 1001 battles fought inside of her mind. It’s a violent battle, and the victor emerges not without a few scars. The result is that Taiga comes across as rude, blunt, perhaps even shy. Unlike many of her contemporaries at Tsundere Academy, who use their brash attitudes to actively hide how they feel, or Ogiue, whose tsundere is caused by years of deep-seated self-loathing, Taiga’s outward attitude is the consequence of falling short of a greater goal, that of being able to accurately express one’s feelings through words. Taiga is tsundere, but only because she can’t help it.

Clumsy, socially awkward, unable to convey the proper meaning in words when talking to others, this describes more than just Taiga, this describes a feeling that hits close to home for me and I’m sure many others. Even if we’ve gotten better over time, we can still remember the days when talking was one of the most difficult things we’ve ever had to do, and are reminded constantly that for us introverted folk, being social is not a natural talent but one that has to be learned and built upon. It is from the people watching that Taiga truly generates her moe.

Tsundere characters, be they the traditional type which slowly turn from tsun to dere, or the modern type which switch back and forth constantly, are generally girls to be sought, to be pursued. They are the goal. Taiga is not the goal. Taiga is us.

Factoring Time into the Visual Aesthetics of Anime

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Having spent yesterday and today hesitating on whether or not to buy the special edition Cardcaptor Sakura movies, I decided to sit down and watch some episodes of Cardcaptor Sakura, to see if it would swing my decision one way or the other. As of now, it’s still undecided, but just like every other time I’ve decided to re-watch Cardcaptor Sakura, I was reminded of how good the show looks. Years from now, the show will still look good. And this got me to thinking about the way time relates to an anime’s visuals.

In animation, there is a race to see the visual quality of animation improve over time. Though it’s not as drastic or hotly contested as the race that video games have gone through, it’s not uncommon to hear from people that a show looks outdated. This is a dangerous way of thinking, as it assumes that the shows you like today will be considered inferior in ten, twenty years. One might say then, that “timelessness” is the ideal to pursue, but at the same time I don’t think “timelessness” of visuals is necessarily a good thing. Much like how making anime for an international audience can take away some of the uniquely Japanese aspects of anime, I think a similar problem can occur when the creators of a show try to isolate it from its own time. At the same time, this isn’t an excuse for a show to look bad or have poor art direction and using either “timelessness” or “representative of its time” as an excuse.

Different shows seem to approach this issue of time and its relation to the animation quality. In Cardcaptor Sakura, it’s the well-thought-out “camera” angles, transitions, and just the way the show flows naturally from scene to scene and action to action that makes it stand the oft-mentioned “test of time.” Koutetsushin Jeeg and Re:Cutie Honey, both updates of 70s Nagai Go works, merge the visual cues of 70s anime with a modern sense of perspective and consistency towards animation. Casshern SINS, a current show, takes an interesting approach. Its main character is said to be immortal, and to show this the design of Casshern references anime throughout the decades. Casshern himself is a 70s anime character, while his hair and musculature are similar to 80s characters, his figure and facial features are reminiscent of 90s bishounen, and the overall aesthetic of the show is very modern. Anne of Green Gables, a 1979 anime series directed by Grave of the Fireflies director Takahata Isao (with Miyazaki on staff as well), is an adaptation of an already well-known novel, and though there wasn’t a lot of resources in animation at that time, they worked with what they had to make the show very engaging.

“Working with what you have” may not always produce the best or most well-remembered shows, but I think it’s an important step in making a show whose visuals will be well-remembered years down the line when what was once cutting-edge will become as old-hat as wearing a skinned sabretooth tiger. One thing that Cardcaptor Sakura, Koutetsushin Jeeg, Re:Cutie Honey, Casshern SINS, and Anne of Green Gables have in common is that you can see the sheer amount of effort put into these shows. Judging “effort” is tricky business, and might even be scoffed at as impossible or even arbitrary, but when there’s this much effort involved I think you can’t help but notice. And when people, year after year notice this, that’s when a show’s visuals can be called “timeless.”

Though if you don’t aim for “timeless” art direction, that still doesn’t mean your show cannot be great.

The Moe Heroine and the Yamato Nadeshiko

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A “Yamato Nadeshiko” is defined as the traditional ideal Japanese woman. These qualities include being loyal to their husband, putting family first, modesty, and being skilled in domestic matters. Belldandy from Ah! My Goddess is a prominent example in anime and manga of a Yamato Nadeshiko, and the fact that Ah! My Goddess has continued to run for many years indicates that this type of character is relatively popular today.

Of course, the spotlight in recent years has been on moe characters, and while some character traits reinforce the idea of the Yamato Nadeshiko, others defy them. Key’s heroine of heroines Tsukimiya Ayu has loyalty as one of her important traits, but is also a clumsy tomboy whose cooking ability is on par with Homer Simpson pouring cereal. Tsundere characters such as Hiiragi Kagami are strong, capable, and put family and friends first, but are independent-minded and are anything but submissive. Aisaka Taiga from Toradora! meanwhile is a clumsy tsundere.

I don’t think the intentional increase of moe traits in characters is, at the very least on a basic level, “progressive feminism,” but I think it’s worth taking a look at how these characters relate to a concept with a long history in the society from which their fictional media are produced. In American fiction, particularly television and movies, there are certain stereotypes for female characters, particularly when it comes to romantic interests. The Girl Next Door can be considered a reaction to the Bombshell (or vice versa). Any time there’s a shy girl who turns out to be highly sexual, it’s actually just a simplified form of “what you see isn’t always what you get.” Though they are now recurring, even stereotypical concepts in fiction, their basis is in the trends of what most people want in their entertainment, at least as it pertains to female characters.

Granted, otaku are not “most people” in Japan or any other country in which they (or should I say we) reside. And when non-typical people look at something typical, I think there’s often a desire for something “different,” though perhaps not drastically so. But the line between “different enough” and “too different” is a very personal thing, and I think it’s the area in which disagreements regarding the validity of moe characters arises.

I Know All the Anime!

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Yesterday while hanging out with friends in a game shop, I overheard someone who was probably 17 or 18 at the oldest say, “I know all the anime!” Then he mentioned Code Geass, and I didn’t really hear the rest.

I don’t know if he was putting on airs or actually believed he knew “all the anime,” but it made me remember an earlier time in my anime fandom, back when I was already familiar with internet forums but they still felt pretty new to me. There was a thread, I don’t remember what it was about, where I decided to list as many of the shows that I watched that I could remember. Eventually the list was large enough that I felt satisfied to post it, thinking it was a job well done. “I’ll show these guys just how much anime I’ve seen,” was probably my intention at the time. I distinctly remember listing Gundam Wing as “Gundam W,” and this was before W began airing on Cartoon Network. Just the idea that I could start listing shows and act like I had done more than scratch the surface of anime makes me realize how naive I was at the time.

Years later I signed up for a myanimelist.net account (check the second post on this blog), and tasking myself with jotting down all of the shows I’ve watched, I felt overwhelmed. Even with this very convenient website which remembers things for me, I lost the will to just record every show I watched.

So I don’t know who that kid is, but I hope he knows that if he truly wants to know “all the anime” that he has a long journey ahead of him.

The Idiotic Protagonist

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I’ve been taught that the most dramatic stories come from having protagonists who have to do what comes most difficult to them with a fervent desire to accomplish their goals, and lacking intelligence is one way to stack the deck against the main character. You want your hero to struggle, to earn his progress. Protagonists in manga, particularly shounen manga, are often designed to not be the sharpest tool around. Be it Naruto, Goku, or any number of heroes who act before they think (or omit the second part of that combo altogether), the reason why they’re made to be dumb is to make them more of an everyman, to tell its readers, “Hey, this could be you.” However, with some readers an opposite effect occurs, and you’ll often see people gravitate to the supporting characters on account of the heroes being, at least in their eyes, bland or possessing little merit as characters.

In trying to make the hero an everyman, authors run the potential risk of making their hero a no-man, someone to whom the reader simply cannot relate, but I don’t think that’s the problem at hand. I have this feeling that some readers do not wish to see certain negative traits in a story’s most important characters. Sometimes it’s because they’re passive, other times because they’re idiots, and other times because they are totally moe.

There’s a division of sorts when it comes to making this kind of shounen-esque protagonist. Should you have a protagonist that acts as a stand-in for the reader, to allow the reader to be immersed in the world, to feel as if he or she is the one saving the day? Or is it more important that the hero be someone who is already skilled, someone the reader can look up to? Both are paths for readers to live out their fantasies through protagonists, both are forms of wish-fulfillment, but each is different in the types of interaction required by the reader, and people may prioritize one over the other.

I have to wonder if age of the reader factors into this division of stand-in protagonist vs larger-than-life protagonist. The stand-in protagonist is something that I think appeals more to that crowd of boys 12 and under who run around in the school playground pretending they can fire lasers. Meanwhile, the larger-than-life protagonist seems to appeal more to the rebellious teenage crowd. A magazine like Shounen Jump has readers well beyond its originally intended audience of young boys, and disagreements as to what makes a good main character in a shounen series may simply be a result of different groups reading the same story.

Non-fans, get out

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This is a somewhat personal rant that expands upon something I mentioned in my New York Anime Festival review, something that I’ve seen rear itself in multiple situations that I’ve encountered, and one that I feel I need to speak about.

At conventions one can see all varieties of fans, young and old, old and new, from all parts of the world and with different degrees and types of fandom along with sub-fandoms within fandoms. And it is at a convention that one can meet others and possibly become friends (or maybe more), meeting on the common ground of having passion for a particular subject. You can even end up having brief flings or one night stands at a convention and there’s nothing wrong with that. But to use the trappings of fandom, to pretend to be a fan for your own personal gain is something I cannot stand.

I am also not defining anime fan by number of shows watched, manga read, fanfics written, or what-have-you. I am defining fandom as I have in the past as having a passion for something, and even then I am not saying you need a sufficient amount of passion to qualify as a fan. Being a fan is a very personal thing. For that matter, I’m even fine with people who went to Akihabara after Densha Otoko came out, people who just wanted to see what was going on, who were maybe curious as to see what the fuss was all about. The breaking point comes from wanting to simply LOOK like an otaku without beginning to understand what being an otaku is all about.

This is not exclusive to conventions. I meet with a group for Japanese conversation, and there are people who go there not for Japanese conversation but simply to pick up women. The boggling thing about this is that there are plenty of places where people can meet and date and what-not, so why interfere with the task at hand?

The classic example of this situation is the guy who pretends to be Christian and goes to church to, again, pick up women. This is not what a church is for. Maybe your walk with God is strong, or your faith in Christianity is weak, but what you shouldn’t be is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Even if you’re someone who thinks Christianity is stupid and you go to a church just to question people’s beliefs, this is still adhering to yourself and not pretending to be something you’re not.

Through fandom of any sort, be it anime, sci-fi, fantasy, knitting, cooking, football, baseball, pro wrestling, eating contests, I could go on, one can get to know people. It can be a starting point for those uncomfortable with talking to strangers. It can be a source of friends and enemies all the same, but what I want to see is people who act like fans because they are fans, because they genuinely have an interest, big or small, in something. So when I say “Non-fans, get out,” what I mean is that if you go somewhere, and you have an ulterior motive so strong it can hardly be considered “ulterior,” then you need to reconsider whether or not you should be there in the first place.

The Ogiue Fan Defense Mechanism

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When I go to a convention or any place with lots of anime merchandise, I hold close to my chest one important policy: Ogiue First.

The immediate reason behind this is to prioritize Ogiue merchandise over everything else, as it should be. The secondary effect of the Ogiue First policy is that it prevents me from going crazy buying merchandise and going way over whatever my intended budget was. In a sense, I am using to my advantage the fact that Ogiue is not a character who gets much merchandise of her.

Ogiue is not only a source of obsession but also a source of self-control.

But I’m still buying that Revoltech Souther when it comes out.