I have a fairly small background in fine arts, and when I was younger, I would occasionally attend gallery openings. An explicit function of those things was networking, an activity I disliked immensely. As I got older, I came to understand that you don’t have to be “fake” in those scenarios and that meeting new people can be a good thing, but I’m always glad that the party eventually ends, and I can always go back to my regular life.
For some people, that degree of social interaction might be what’s “normal.” They’re more personable and extroverted than I am, and that’s great. But between the combined 15+ years of grindset culture and grifting culture, I find myself more often in an uncomfortable defensive posture against networking. Whether it’s everyone trying to curate their own brand on social media (including what kind of fan they are) or IRL encounters at anime conventions that carry the same energy, I feel that it becomes harder to make new friends.
I’ve never been one to befriend a ton of people, and as I get older and older it admittedly has only become more difficult. But even putting aside my own circumstances, a part of me worries that too many people (especially those younger) are being trapped in a mindset where human connections are merely there as stepping stones to get ahead, to improve and spread your “brand,” and to find “you scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours” situations. While this has always existed to some degree (classic “schmoozing actor in Hollywood” trope and all that), it seems to have become the norm even for those like me who would have largely shied away from these spaces. And even if they want to avoid all this, they are compelled to enter the fray simply because capitalism demands it.
I see a lot about people feeling lonely and isolated, and while there are likely deeper societal issues contributing significantly to this, I think exhaustion over trying to figure out how real or fake someone is might well be higher than ever. It’s like everyone is convinced or coerced that they must be “on,” and so the fraudulence is coming even from our own selves.
I haven’t played Street Fighter 6 in quite a while, but I have been paying attention to the new DLC characters, especially their visual presentation. Every fighter looks great and oozes individuality in ways that feel faithful to both the realistic and fantastical aspects of the series, but one character who drew my attention in particular was Arjun.
Like the classic SF2 character Dhalsim, Arjun hails from India. Physically, however, they are very different. Dhalsim is relatively average in height and has virtually no fat on his body, to the point of looking almost starved, as a representation of how his yoga training has allowed him to transcend the body’s limitations. Arjun, on the other hand, is a massive 6’9” and 320 lbs. Interestingly, however, while he’s naturally got more meat on his bones than Dhalsim, he also looks a lot “smoother,” with a lot less muscle definition compared to a large chunk of the cast, both male and female. It’s a conscious design decision that I think is really awesome, and a continuation of SF6’s move towards having a greater variety of body types while still having everyone look like capable fighters.
To me, the way the muscles and fat sit on Arjun gives the impression that he mainly does body weight exercises (including those found in yoga) and has a lot of practical strength. His muscles are large but not massive, and his abs are visible but not extremely cut. He comes across to me as an exaggerated version of a strongman or athlete from an older era, like Charles Atlas or Karl Gotch.
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If you compare Arjun to other towering figures, the differences become even clearer. Zangief also has a layer of fat, but the muscles underneath make him seem like someone who’s gone through harsh training (wrestling bears!) dedicated to building up as much mass as possible. Sagat returned to having a relatively lankier frame reminiscent of his SF2 design (as opposed to the mountain of muscle he’s been since the Alpha games) that is more in line with what Muay Thai fighters look like.
I think what I especially like about Arjun is that he makes an impression while having less defined musculature compared to what you typically see in fighting games and media. In a world where movie stars have to undergo ridiculous amounts of training, dehydration, and possibly even steroids to gain bodybuilder physiques, you have a literal fictional character who eschews that aesthetic.
I watch Over the Garden Well as an annual tradition, and it’s always a fun time returning to its haunting and whimsical world and reuniting with its eccentric characters. However, I find that I notice something new every time.
In the episode “Schooltown Follies,” Greg is hanging out with a bunch of wild animals, when he decides to teach them a game called “two old cat.” According to him, this involves trying to find two old cats—though the cats can’t be too old. For many years, I thought this was just some strange, arbitrary idea Greg came up with, but things changed with a rewatch of the penultimate episode, “Into the Unknown.”
Unlike the other parts of Over the Garden Wall, “Into the Unknown” is focused on the “real world” that Greg and his brother Wirt came from. During their shenanigans, the two end up at a house party, and they pass by two teens having a conversation about different stick ball games:
“Yeah, man, there’s lots of bat-and-ball games besides baseball—one old cat, two old cat, stoolball, roundball…”
It turns out that “two old cat” is an actual game! But more importantly, it opens up a window into how Greg perceives and absorbs the things he hears. Somehow, despite it being a fleeting moment, the words “two old cat” buried themselves in his memories. Greg then proceeded to just come up with his own idea of what this mysterious game was about, using his childish imagination, and the world of the Unknown feeds into it by providing old cats.
I wonder what I’ll end up discovering in future watches.
When Dolly Parton died, I thought, “She was among the greatest musicians and most wonderful people to ever live, but my emotional connection to her doesn’t go very deep. I’m not exactly fit to write about her.”
When Tim Curry died, I thought, “I’ll always remember him as Kilokahn in Superhuman Samurai Syber-Squad, but his career goes so much deeper. I’m not sure.”
When Peter Cullen died, I thought, “What the hell is going on? We even have to say goodbye to Optimus Prime?”
All of them were 80+ years old and had lived long lives. All of them made lasting impact on the arts and culture and the world at large. But while I know I’m at an age where I’d be losing a lot of my favorites and childhood heroes, to have it happen back to back to back just has me thinking about time—how much has passed and how much I and my loved ones have left—as well as the power of media to make people immortal, for better or for worse.
As we move farther away from their lifetimes, there will be a loss of context via lived experiences. At the same time, if future generations (or even current ones) become curious about their performances, we can point at the movies they made, the songs they sang, and the interviews they gave. This is already how a pair of twins can marvel at “Jolene” for the first time and see their own popularity skyrocket. This is how young boys unsure of how to behave as men can look to a heroic figure who emphasizes strength and kindness. This is how those who feel the pressure of growing up in a time of severe wealth inequality can find a like-minded spirit in the past and find levity in the notion of escaping to space.
More than anything, I hope to remember that these were human beings who liked to pay it forward. Should we surpass them in terms of talent, hard work, and love toward the world, we will be in better shape.
When Calliope Mori debuted as the first member of hololive English, she helped transform people’s perceptions of VTubing by showing that the music and personalities didn’t have to be limited to assumptions about idol culture and kawaii aesthetic. Over time, however, she has changed her approach to music, going from primarily rap to rock with occasional rap elements, and she even does some of the idol stuff. In fact, she now finds some of her earlier songs to be somewhat embarrassing, and it’s a transition that I find intriguing.
It’s perfectly normal to cringe over one’s past artistic work, and genre changes also aren’t unfathomable. But I think in Calli’s case, the rapper + reaper combo has been a tricky thing to pull off because it requires two different and at times contradictory forms of kayfabe. That is to say, she has two create and maintain her act convincingly enough that the audience can suspend disbelief, and she has to do it twice over.
Before I dive in, I want to preface that neither music or rap (and its culture) are subjects I am an expert on. Everything I learn I basically pick up primarily from others, so if I come across as a tourist, then well, guilty as charged.
On an episode of Holomelo Radio with fellow hololive member Nerissa Ravencroft and musician Lotus Juice of Persona fame, Calli mentioned that she eased up on the rapping because she can’t bring the confidence expected of a dedicated rapper, especially in English. While her inspiration for getting into the genre was always Japanese rap (notably FAKE TYPE.) as opposed to American, the fact that her primary language is English means that any claims to be an amazing rapper puts her in contention with some real heavy hitters and a culture + fandom that isn’t afraid to let their criticisms be heard. Being a white Texan also complicates matters.
Black video essayist FD Signifier describes rap as having a form of kayfabe akin to pro wrestling. A lot of performers will talk about how dangerous they are, how much money they have, why they’re the greatest on the mic, etc., but in every case, it’s a persona with some truth blended into the fiction at best. The crucial part of this performative presentation is that the rapper has to make you believe that theybelieve they’re the best in the world. Calli appears to have trouble buying into her own hype, perhaps because rap is such a heavily scrutinized and competitive art form. Even an actual commercial and critical success like the subject of FD’s video above, J Cole, has gotten a lot of flack from some commenters. His apology and withdrawal from beefing with Kendrick Lamar was often seen not as a welcome example of humility but instead a marker of weakness and cowardice.
While most would have only one level of kayfabe, Calli has a second: her identity and lore as a VTuber, specifically her persona as an immortal grim reaper. While VTubers don’t necessarily have to go all in on the assumed persona, it becomes a point of connection for viewers and potential fans, and it makes a difference in presentation compared to other streamers and creators. However, trying to keep up a complete alter ego based on a single aspect becomes an increasingly difficult task over time, let alone two aspects.
It’d be like if Eminem had to be “Slim Shady” in most songs and public appearances, and also Slim Shady was a vampire for some reason. Or imagine if the Undertaker in pro wrestling was not just some kind of undead wizard (and occasional biker) but also a rap star. One of the reasons rapping worked for a young John Cena was because “Doctor of Thuganomics” was his primary gimmick at that point in his career was that he was supposed to be a normal-ish guy (albeit with freakish strength) otherwise. VTubing is also similar to wrestling in the way minor past accomplishments can become the entire basis of a performer’s identity, because of how they allow a performer to stand out in their respective spaces, and this can be both an asset and a limitation in both worlds.
What I think undergirds her stylistic switch is that Calli wants to be vulnerable in her music. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that one of her most beloved early songs is “End of a Life,” which is about guilt over becoming a massive success as a VTuber and leapfrogging over friends and mentors to whom she felt deep gratitude. In fact, Calli originally applied to hololive on a whim after her friends barely convinced her to try it out, and she beat them out despite taking it less seriously. While some of the most acclaimed rap songs express profound pain, rap is often about having that air of strength and swagger, and it feels like she increasingly gets away from that bravado with every album (such as in “Memento.”)
The current Mori is currently making what I find to be the best music of her career, like the opening she did for Patlabor EZY, “Reimei Compass.” She’s still honing her rap skills too, like on her cover of Gurren-Lagann’s “Libera Me from Hell” alongside Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame. Seeing the way she has morphed her identity as a performer is encouraging. It’s as if she’s saying that the image you’re given, or even the one created by your own hands, should not be a prison that keeps you from further discovering your potential or your passion.
To celebrate the upcoming 50th anniversary of Gundam in 2029, an animated music video featuring virtually every series in the franchise was released. It follows three different generations—father, son, and granddaughter—discovering and growing up with Gundam in different ways over the decades.
One thing I find noteworthy about this animation is that it implies the father, a fan of the original series, does not really “keep up” with Gundam for a chunk of his life. He watcheseverything in the Universal Century timeline up to Char’s Counterattack religiously, but then falls out of touch with it as he gets married and starts a family. It isn’t until a few years later, while discovering G Gundam with his young son, that he dips his toe back in.
However, there’s something of a generational divide depicted. While the son is enraptured by the martial arts fury of Domon and Master Asia, the father is stunned. And as they go through the other alternate universe series up to Turn A, you can see him actually getting overwhelmed by these unfamiliar worlds.
That’s when the two go back to check out older titles in F91 and Victory, which acts as a middle ground and bonding experience. These scenes highlight what a drastic change G Gundam was “supposed” to be, and I find the dad’s rocky acceptance of them surprisingly refreshing. While I’ve always been fond of the AUs, I understand that they can be a far cry from what made many people fall in love with Gundam, and I appreciate that the music video acknowledges this gap.
This video is an idyllic and glamorized rendition of Gundam fandom, and differs from my own life in many ways. Even so, it makes me reflect on the wonderful memories I’ve had with Gundam across most of my life at this point. Whether it was discussing favorite characters and mobile suits in high school or being there to see my own wife watch G Gundam for the first time many years later, it’s been an indelible past of my own history.
Pokémon Champions is a new game focused on competitive battling, and it has included an old and beloved mechanic that’s been mostly absent for a decade or so: Mega Evolution. I’ve been thinking about why it’s still among the most popular additions to the series, and I think it has to do with the fact that it makes individual Pokémon feel special in terms of both gameplay and aesthetic.
Introduced 13 years ago in Pokémon X and Y, Mega Evolution is a temporary transformation that greatly boosts a Pokémon’s abilities in battle. It can make historically weak Pokémon stronger, while also potentially addressing some of the power creep that had afflicted the series over time. However, not every Pokémon can do it, so it can come across as bias or favoritism from the developers.
Because Mega Evolutions from the start were reserved for only a chosen few, one could not truly call it a universal game mechanic, and later generations replaced it with more all-encompassing ones. While there were some special attacks exclusive to specific Pokémon and some exceptions, pretty much everyone could perform a Z-Move (Generation 7), Dynamax (Generation 8), and Terastillize (Generation 9). However, even if they might be considered better mechanics in terms of gameplay and balance, none of them seemed to capture people’s imagination the way Mega Evolutions did.
Ironically, I think that the aspects that make Mega Evolutions a problem are also the very things that make it appealing. The other mechanics are in many ways fairer, but having them be so fleeting or so universally applied means a cool factor is lost in the process. Z-Moves are flashy attacks but only last for one turn. Dynamax goes for three turns and just enlarges the existing 3D model, and the few who get unique Gigantamax versions are only truly differentiated in gameplay with a single unique attack (called a G-Max move). Terastillization is more enduring and has lots of depth in terms of player interaction, but it also uses generic animations with the notable exception of Terapagos.
The exclusivity of Mega Evolutions makes them more exciting, and the anticipation over who gets one reminds me a bit of character reveals in fighting games. The fact that they get unique designs contributes to their special feel, and this specialness is expressed through significant stat upgrades and often new Abilities that enhance their specific identities. I also don’t think it’s a coincidence that the last truly enduring generational mechanic was Abilities from Generation 3, as they felt like further expressions of the Pokémon instead of a layer applied on top of them. Of course Gyarados can Intimidate opponents—look how scary it is!
This difference somewhat reminds me of two things. First, there are the changes in the depiction of techniques from Avatar: The Last Airbender and its sequel, Avatar: The Legend of Korra. In the first series, a technique like lightning bending is the exclusive domain of Fire Nation, but by the time decades have passed, it’s used by regular skilled workers in car factories. This is meant to show the march of progress and the proliferation of knowledge, but it’s not a change all fans enjoy. Rather, they prefer when characters are special in ways others can’t hope to duplicate because it emphasizes each character’s identity more. If something like Dynamaxing actually gave each Pokémon a distinctive improvement instead of just doubling HP and creating more variety in the actual Dynamax attacks, I think it would be more highly regarded.
The second is that classic player categorization of Timmy, Johnny, and Spike created by Magic: The Gathering developers in the past. Timmy gets the most joy out of attacking with powerful creatures, Johnny thinking up interesting strategies, and Spike winning and overcoming the competition. The other generational mechanics outside of Mega Evolution have clear appeal to Johnny and Spike, but not so much to Timmy. And while we might see Timmy as not as serious as the others, he’s a reminder of how much presentation can matter (and I don’t mean in terms of graphical quality, like you often see people complain about).
Nowadays, Mega Evolution is quite an old topic of discussion, but I never put in my two cents because I had fallen out of Pokémon during this time. I think the mechanic’s popularity in terms of general perception compared to its successors is a real lesson in how gameplay and aesthetics intersect. Maybe in Pokémon Winds and Waves, we’ll see something capture that spirit more successfully.
I remember being caught off guard the first time I heard about the Omegaverse, and I still feel that way. There’s what? And they get huh? And it comes from…Supernatural fanfic based on the actors?! I’s still not really my cup of tea, but I operate on a policy of “let people enjoy what they enjoy.” Still, I’ve had to wonder why exactly has it garnered such a sizable, prominent, and devoted fandom. At least, why this instead of something else?
As I was pondering that question, though, I realized something: It is both kink and world building in one.
Plenty of erotic stories revolve around specific sexual dynamics, as well as the idea that a character’s personality (based on a canon source or otherwise) dictates how they behave in more intimate and explicit situations. Shipping is often about expanding this thought exercise to two or more characters.
But the Omegaverse takes things a couple steps further. The concept of “alphas” and “omegas” doesn’t just dictate their roles in bed but also their biological makeup, their history, and by extension the way characters move through their society. The extrapolation of sexual behavior based on personality becomes all-encompassing.
To put it differently, it’s kind of like creating a story where it’s assumed that pizza delivery people are going to get some “extra tip” by default, and the consequences of such a world.
At least, that’s what I’ve gotten out of the idea? Perhaps I’m barking up the wrong tree.
I’ve often wondered why, in the realm of shipping, one ship is particularly popular or even more popular than another. I understand that taste is subjective and we all have our reasons for liking some characters (or combinations of characters), but to my eyes, there’s not much difference between them.
But recently, it clicked: Sometimes, it’s simply about imagining what sex between these characters would be like.
“Well, obviously,” you might be saying, but I feel like my approach to pairings is such that this didn’t occur to me for a long time. The way I grow to like a particular relationship in fiction comes from thinking about how characters complement each other, and how they’d be for each other if they were together. While physical attraction is a factor, it’s the emotional and interpersonal dynamic that I mainly think about, and in a way that doesn’t automatically translate to me as behavior in bed.
But now that I realize this, I can sometimes see a ship and have a better sense as to what makes it and its fandom tick. And I think this has given me a bit more empathy for fans I don’t understand right away.
