Tomorrow is the 18th annivesary of Ogiue Maniax. My little blog is all grown up now.
I believe 18 years is supposed to be the point where you look at your child and realize that they’re not the same person—or rather, website—anymore.
If Ogiue Manaix could vote, what would it decide? Sure, it’s entirely a product of my own output, but I wonder if it would hold certain ideals or approaches to the world that are stronger because they are housed within this structure of written posts that continue to vividly reflect where I was, where I am now, and where I might end up in the future. I can’t remember my earliest memories as a newborn baby, but I can look back and see what I was writing about in 2007, even if it might be a little cringey.
That’s actually something I’ve wanted to be part of Ogiue Maniax all along, though. If I do have beliefs and ways of thinking that have shifted over the course of almost two decades, I wanted to have that documented as well. I also recall all those people I’ve talked to online who mentioned that you will end up hating anime you used to love because your standards will have changed. I don’t know if the first part has happened, even though the latter definitely has.
Blogging for 18 years has been less about prestige and more about stubbornness. I don’t want to give it up if I don’t have to. It helps keep my heart in my fandoms, even as I add other things to it (e.g. VTubers) and my post rate drops further. I’m nowhere near enough to be considered a notable veteran fan of anime and manga, especially as I get a mere fraction of the readership I used to have. Though, I have gotten more hits lately for some reason. I chalk that up to not understanding how WordPress (or any other site) tracks visits anymore.
Is 18-year-old Ogiue Maniax now entering college and joining the Society for the Study of Modern Visual Culture? Will I actually change this blog again so that its template isn’t stuck in the past? Probably not, but who knows what the next year holds?
One of the ideas I keep revisiting over the years (and decades!) is a Super Robot Wars game focused away from Japan. It’s a thought exercise that actually predates this blog!
With the release of Super Robot Wars Y, I’ve once again started devoting actual mental and creative energy towards this idea. What titles would appear in, say, an SRW focused around the history of the mecha genre in the US? And how would the different plots and settings be reconciled into a (relatively) cohesive universe?
I asked on Bluesky if people were actually interested in seeing this bit of fan wankery from me, and more than a few people actually said “Yes,” to my surprise. So here we go.
Also, I was inspired by some ideas for others, such as the cool fanart by Chase Burns below:
I drew this a while back, and I will forever regret not adding the Mighty Orbots or Robot God Akamatsu.How many can you recognize? The tags will name three of them, but I'll leave the rest up to you.#superrobotwars #srw #pacificrim #megasxlr #lancer
In terms of criteria for titles, I wanted mainly to have works that either originated outside of Japan and was available in the West…or anime that were significantly altered to be their own thing, and became hugely influential in the process. So while anime is increasingly part of mainstream culture, things that reached North America relatively untouched don’t count for this sort of thing.
Working from this, I think the biggest title to focus the overall setting would have to be Voltron. In combining the two anime Golion and Dairugger XIV into Voltron, World Events Productions created the notion of a Voltron stationed far from Earth and close to Earth respectively, and this creates a good opportunity to divide the titles involved into “Far Universe” and “Near Universe” plotlines to kick things off. The idea would be that you would follow each side separately, and then the two would merge together down the road when the stakes are higher.
A lot of series take place in the future (albeit with different ideas of what the “future” looks like), so it’s not too much of a stretch to set them all in a vaguely advanced era of humanity. However, there are a few series I’d want to include that are specifically tied explicitly to certain periods—namely prehistoric times and the mid-20th century. For that reason, I’d place those works under “Time Displacement.”
And I’m leaving out Robotech because eh.
So here’s how I’d break down the above three categories.
Far Universe
Lion Voltron: The Galaxy Alliance is the main governing body in this SRW. The Lion Voltron is sent to protect from threats on the other side of the galaxy, and focuses on Planet Arus. This Voltron is special because of the fact that the enemy Robeasts are magical, which is actually pretty uncommon in this universe.
Transformers: This has to be G1 Transformers, and the appearance would focus on the series around Unicron and the animated movie and through to the return of Optimus Prime (because you gotta have the Autobot Matrix of Leadership as an ultimate attack, right?) Cybertron is under Decepticon control and so it cannot be part of the Galaxy Alliance, but the Autobots do help the Alliance out. Optimus doesn’t necessarily die, and Megatron doesn’t necessarily turn into Galvatron, depending on how the missions go.
Challenge of the GoBots: Unlike Cybertron, Planet GoBotron is part of the Galaxy Alliance. The Gobots are actually cyborgs—humans who converted their bodies to transforming machines—and they were inspired to take this path by the robots of Cybertron. In this setting, the Transformers have been fighting for a long time, while the GoBots are just now leaving for Earth.
Bionicle: I will admit that I don’t know much about this series, and would need help making sense of it. What I have so far is: Some (but not all) planets in the Sol Magnis System are part of the Galaxy Alliance. However, they tend not to interact very heavily with others. The legend of Mata Nui either directly or indirectly inspired a lot of other worlds to create giant robots.
Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go!: Planet Shuggazoom is also part of the Galaxy Alliance. However, various factors keep the other mecha from intervening in its battles normally. The monkeys do eventually become very fond of Optimus Primal from Beast Wars, however.
Mighty Orbots: The Galactic Patrol is one of the peacekeeping forces of the Galaxy Alliance, and Mighty Orbots was made to deal with threats that the Voltrons can’t get to. While based on Earth, they’re currently in the Far Universe to mount an offensive against Umbra. Unicron tried to devour Umbra but was actually repelled; the two don’t get along.
Near Universe
Vehicle Voltron: Defends Galaxy Alliance HQ on Earth. “Entrusted with the secret of how to form Voltron.”
The Bots Master: Ziv Zulander is a brilliant robot AI developer, and this attracts nefarious forces, including the Decepticons. Jungle Fiver is made because Blitzy is inspired by Mighty Orbots and Devastator, and Blitzy becomes friends with Daniel from Transformers. Characters from other series are very fascinated by the boost the BOYZZ get from “Laser Time.”
Sym-Bionic Titan: Actually not part of the Galaxy Alliance, and comes from even further away. However, their planet was visited in the past by Mata Nui, and helped inspire the combination of heart, mind, and body to combine as one (the technology is different from what Voltron uses.)
Megas XLR: Coop built Megas XLR in New Jersey, like usual. He is actually friends with Spike Witwicky as some blue-collar dudes. Thinks Ziv is a super genius, but doesn’t know him very well. He’s always getting inspired to put new weapons into Mega thanks to all the robot shenanigans going on, and this only grows when Near and Far universe plotlines merge. Evil Coop has to appear at some point, especially with the time displacement/time travel parts of the story.
Big Guy and Rusty: Big Guy was a hero who helped the fight against aliens and the Decepticons in the past. He fought for the US as part of the Earth Galaxy Alliance HQ. Ziv Zulander is very well informed about Rusty, but doesn’t know the secret of Big Guy. Rob Simmons from Mighty Orbots and Dwayne Hunter strongly suspect each other of being the Orbots Commander and Big Guy respectively, but haven’t explicitly confirmed it.
Pacific Rim: Jaegers were developed purely by humans back when other technology hadn’t been discovered, and they needed two people to pilot. The passing of the secret of how to form Voltron helped alleviate this and lead to other less dangerous possibilities, but Jaegers still remain the best defense against Kaiju in particular.
Gen:Lock: I admittedly don’t know anything about this series, other than that it has a lot of big names for voice actors and that it ended up disappointing pretty much everyone. However, I’d like to see it get the SRW plot fix treatment. While the series takes place on a dystopian Earth, I could see a world where it doesn’t get quite that bad because of all the other things going on. Here, the setting of Gen:Lock would take place on a part of the planet rather than the entire thing.
Time-Displaced
Dino-Riders: Yes, I am counting dinosaurs wearing armor as essentially giant robots. Originally, the Valorians were working together with the Maximals in the far future, but were flung back in time by a joint attack from the Rulons and Predacons. At some point in the story, they manage to fix the Step Crystal, but the interactions with the dormant Transformers in prehistoric times causes them to jump forward. Inadvertently, their effects on the past inspire the creation of the Dinobots.
Beast Wars: Because of their nature as Transformers, they don’t need to commandeer the local dinosaurs and other animals to fight. However, they’re still inspired by those forms. Maximals and Valorians work together on prehistoric Earth, and they form a real bond before they’re all brought forward into the future to meet Gigantor and the Iron Giant.
Gigantor:While Tetsujin 28 explicitly takes place in Post-WWII Japan, Gigantor is originally set in the “future year 2000.” However, for the purpose of this SRW, Gigantor still takes place in the relative past as an early attempt at building giant robots on Earth, and it still retains the plot element of being a weapon meant for destruction that instead becomes a protector of the peace. Big Guy is essentially a government project meant to replicate the success of Gigantor. The time travel vortex drags Jimmy Sparks and Gigantor along.
Frankenstein Jr: Frankenstein Jr. and Gigantor were built around the same time. Professor Conroy was familiar with Jimmy Sparks’s father, and began his work on Frankenstein Jr. to counter Gigantor. Jimmy and Buzz Conroy are glad they’re on the same side. The Impossibles are included, and are part of a specific attack that Frankenstein Jr. can use. They are not swept up by the time displacement, but build a time machine to actively chase after Gigantor, knowing that trouble is afoot.
The Iron Giant: When flying away as Superman, the warping of the space-time continuum causes the Iron Giant to sense a similar mechanical being in Gigantor (a robot made to be a weapon), and another sentient robot in Frankenstein Jr. This causes the Iron Giant to warp forward in time as well.
I’m Open to Other Ideas
Obviously this is all just a bit of fandom thought exercise, and nothing about this really matters. I’m also less familiar with some series, so any sort of feedback is A-OK by me. Heck, anyone who wants to use this as a base for their own ideas—or tear it to shreds and do something they find better—is welcome to take a swing.
In July this year, I attended the Dokibird birthday concert at Anime Expo—the same one that was just uploaded to her YouTube. It had a lively atmosphere, and a group of fans had assembled in front of a screen to do their wotagei performances. Others shouted with excitement. But next to me was a guy who remained silent throughout. It was clear he was a fan. He just wasn’t expressing it loudly.
The contrast had me thinking about how there are challenges to being a quiet fan. So much of how we “show” fandom these days is through very visible and very vocal gestures. Online, we have react videos and social media platforms that thrive on “virality.” Offline, we have enthusiastic crowds drawing the cameras to them. It makes sense that they would get so much attention, much in the same way that cosplayers are the most photographed element at conventions. But it can create this notion that this is the way fans “should” be, when that’s not true.
I think it’s important to remember that being quiet doesn’t make you less of a fan. You might not get all the positive affirmation or even the attention that more vocal fans do, but that doesn’t mean the passion inside you is somehow not as vibrant. I’m not a terribly expressive person myself, and it’s probably part of why I started blogging—I’m full of thoughts and emotions, but they just don’t necessarily come out through pronounced physical actions.
At the same time, the fans who do go out there and make their presence known are expressing themselves in their own way. Unless they’re disruptive to the point of ruining the experience entirely for others, it shouldn’t be an issue. Everyone is their own person. There’s no specific “right” way to be a fan, and I salute my fellow quiet types because I know the passion is there.
When Baelz Hakos of hololive made a promotional video for a convention appearance in Hong Kong earlier this year, she gave an abbreviated version of her standard self-introduction. Naturally, it was subtitled in Cantonese, and the word used for “chaos” was wandeon—or hundun in Mandarin Chinese.
English: I am Chaos, the End of Ends.
Cantonese: 我喺混沌、萬物終結。
Cantonese Jyutping: Ngo hai Wandeon, Maan Mat Zung Git.
Literal translation: I am Chaos/Hundun, the Termination of All Creation
Hundun (混沌) refers to primordial chaos, but it can also be the name of a legendary creature from Chinese mythology that existed before the universe was created. It’s typically depicted as a faceless beast with many wings and feet. Incidentally, I became aware of it myself through the anime Lazarus, where it’s a plot point for a certain character.
The Hundun from Lazarus
Bae is Cantonese, and the fact that her original lore also describes her as Chaos itself makes the similarities between Bae and the Hundun more striking—both are “chaos” as concept as well as being. So I got to thinking: What if in the lore of hololive, Baelz Hakos is the Hundun under a different guise?
The backstories of Bae and her fellow members of hololive EN Promise updated a couple years ago to be simpler. All of them are essentially about how these representatives of primal forces (chaos, time, hope, etc.) have integrated more thoroughly into the human world, with Bae in particular focusing on her desire to perform on new and different stages.
Playing off this, I could see some kind of written piece about how Baelz Hakos is what the Hundun became out of a desire to interact more directly with the mortal realm. Dance (Bae’s specialty) is also a creative art that feels both controlled and chaotic, and perhaps her multiple wings and feet could manifest through her amazing dance moves.
This has just been some random fanfic-tier speculation on my part. I’m looking forward to the Promise 2nd year 3D concert in a few hours:
I occasionally enjoy watching martial arts Youtubers. They run the gamut from professional fighters to dedicated practitioners to, well, scam artists, so they can easily devolve into a whole lot of nonsense. I’m the furthest thing from a competent fighter, though, and my interest goes more towards those who exhibit a desire to actually spread knowledge and understanding while avoiding macho posturing.
One person I watch is Adam Chan, and while I don’t agree with some of his beliefs about how the world works, he comes across as someone who tries to check his ego at the door. He tries to communicate that a martial art is not “a way of fighting” in itself but rather a recipe or set of tools that should be adjusted for the situation or goal you desire. Self-defense is not sport fighting, and neither are combatives: The first is about escaping harm, the second is about a mutually agreed contest, and the last is about prioritizing maximum force and even concealing your weapons (both metaphorically and literally).
The categories can be easily conflated, and they commonly are. In the past, I wrote about out how the series Mashlehighlights these distinctions. However, there’s actually another example that demonstrates these differences even better, and it can be found in the anime The Daily Lives of High School Boys, of all things.
The Daily Lives of High School Boys is a comedy about dumb teenagers, and it occasionally has a spinoff at the end of episodes called High School Girls Are Funky. These shorts feature a trio of girls: two loud and mean-spirited girls named Yanagin and Ikushima along with Habara, the meeker one. But it’s revealed that Habara used to be an absolute terror who had to be subdued by an alliance of the strongest kids in school. In one short, Yanagin and Ikushima decide to see who’s stronger in a fight. Habara tries to get them to stop, only to have her plea ignored.
However, when they try to establish the parameters for their bout, the “normal” Habara earnestly asks them why they would need rules in the first place for a fight. In this moment, the two realize what a mistake they’ve made: While they’re trying to compare skill in a fair contest, Habara doesn’t comprehend the very notion of limiting one’s violence. The other girls back down, anxiously claim it was all a joke, and avoid disaster in the end. Right as the third girl breathes a sigh of relief, though, the other two notice her tossing aside a large rock.
In this scene, you have the two girls approaching the situation with a sporting mindset, trying to agree upon the rules of engagement. You have the third girl thinking purely in terms of combatives and looking for ways to inflict maximum violence without compromise, including hiding a crude but effective weapon. And when the two de-escalate the situation, you have self-defense of a less flashy kind.
Even the best martial arts anime and manga tend to assume that all fighting and conflict is essentially the same, so it’s funny to see a gag series represent such subtle yet profound distinctions.
Gundam GQuuuuuuX is a work that has a lot to potentially talk about, especially because it both utilizes and deviates from a lot of established Gundam lore. This is a followup to my overall review of the series, where I now want to take the time to put forth what I consider my biggest GQuuuuuuX theory as a result of the show’s final episode: The Gundam QuuuuuuX mobile suit is possessed by the spirit of the original Amuro Ray. And by original, I mean original.
Before I elaborate, I want to make two notes. First, there will be MASSIVE SPOILERS.
Second, I’ll be discussing the actor Furuya Toru, the original voice of Gundam protagonist Amuro Ray, someone who’s become persona non grata due to revelations of adultery and domestic abuse. While I myself have soured on him because of this and am deeply disappointed by his actions, he still played a role in the finale that I think is meant to have greater implications than just being a fun callback. Thus, the analysis below takes into account what I believe is the effect of his inclusion.
With that, let’s begin.
In the final episode, as Machu in the GQuuuuuuX is fighting Shuji in the original-design RX-78-2 Gundam, the GQuuuuuX unlocks the true form of its Omega Psycommu. Within the rush of the kaleidoscopic “kira kira” Newtype space, the voice of Furuya Toru speaks to Machu and Shuji and says, “I can’t bear to see the Gundam taking Lalah’s life again.”
One would assume that this is the Amuro from “Rose of Sharon” Lalah’s universe, but here’s the catch: Lalah never died there. While extremely similar, the Lalah we see in the Elmeth is established to be different from the Lalah in the original 1979 anime and the film trilogy. In her world, Char dies instead of her, and the shock causes her to slip into alternate timelines where he survives. In fact, according to Shuji, more often than not it’s Char who dies instead.
This is why I believe that this is “our” Amuro Ray, the one we saw go through Mobile Suit Gundam and on. And on top of that, I think this was his fate after the end of Char’s Counterattack.
Additionally, while not a direct reinforcement of the above point, I want to point out the significance of the true name of the Omega Psycommu that’s inside the GQuuuuuuX. Challia Bull reveals that it’s actually called the Endymion Unit, and those familiar with Furuya’s voice roles might find that it sounds familiar. This is because Prince Endymion is the original name of Tuxedo Mask in Sailor Moon before he reincarnated as Chiba Mamoru, and Furuya plays this character in the 1990s anime. In other words, the Endymion Unit is a reference to a character played by Amuro Ray’s actor—one who failed to save his lover and was reborn into a watchful protector who helps guide Sailor Moon. Even if only meant to be a fun reference, the thematic parallels are hard to ignore.
Also, the way the GQuuuuuX looks when the Endymion Unit is unleashed is very reminiscent of Neon Genesis Evangelion, where the EVAs themselves contain the souls of other characters who (for the most part) watch over their pilots.
One thing that GQuuuuuX also does is imply that the vaunted esper-like abilities of Newtypes are quantum in nature, in that they can see multiple possibilities and choose the right one, somewhat like the Doctor in Doctor Who. Perhaps Char’s Counterattack Amuro ascended to a higher level of this, and in spirit form traversed alternate universes to find the Rose of Sharon.
If all this were to be true, that leaves me to wonder about something else: If the GQuuuuuuX houses the spirit of the original Amuro Ray, where is the original Char Aznable? Could it be that the Red Gundam, i.e. the RX-78-2 of the GQuuuuuuX world, is actually possessed by Char? When the GQuuuuuuX Char pilots it, does that mean we’re getting Double Char? Were that to be the case, this would mean Amuro and Char have decided to work together to save this Lalah from living through endless tragedy.
I’ve never played League of Legends, but I decided to watch Arcane after seeing it consistently praised by all sorts. Now, having finished the first season, I understand why it is beloved in a way far different from the also-popular game it calls its source material: two-dimensional personalities given depth through a story about family and class differences, combined with an attractive aesthetic that marries cool action with a colorful, yet gritty environment. Playable characters are seen in a new light, such as fan favorite Jinx, who goes from a Harley Quinn–esque goth punk to, well, basically the same thing but with a method to her madness and a tinge of tragedy.
It’s not the first instance of taking rougher materials and bringing them all together to make a creative work with more cohesion. Alternate stories with familiar characters, be they done by professionals or fan amateurs, are a way to tell stories that might not happen otherwise. That’s why I was surprised to find out that Riot Games has decided to make Arcane the official League of Legends canon and retcon everything else to fit it. That indicates just how successful Arcane has been, because reshaping your lore in your 15-year-old series is no simple task.
One article I read about the retcon mentioned that League of Legends has plenty of established backstory, though players were not necessarily engaging with it in-game. I think the difference with Arcane is that the previous stuff apparently felt like either scraps of lore dumps, whereas actual stories told through a narrative just hit differently. They create a sense of connection to the characters as creatures of thought and emotion whose lives have stakes.
The closest thing I can compare to Arcane is the Generation 1 Transformers cartoon. In its case, the franchise began by bringing together action figures from multiple Japanese toy lines under one banner and giving these toys basic names and designations of good and evil (Autobot or Deception). But the 1980s cartoon went such a long way in establishing those toys as characters that it became the benchmark for how all Transformers works, and to some extent all similar multimedia properties are perceived. Optimus Prime was vaguely a heroic truck in toy form, but with his battles against Megatron animated, he became the strong and gentle leader with an unparalleled moral core that we still think of today.
I don’t know if the Arcane retcon is working, but I’d love to know if people have indeed been convinced to play League of Legends because of it, and whether the refocus has been welcome or not. (Though I still will probably never play the game.)
I follow the VTuber La+ Darknesss, who reads a lot of manga on a regular basis. Every so often, she throws out a recommendation, and one such title that caught my attention was Oshi ga Yameta, or My Fav Idol Quit.
Miyabi is a 25-year-old woman who is obsessed with a male idol, the 22-year-old Miku. She devotes her entire life to supporting him, even going as far as doing sex work to fund her fandom. Miyabi also meets up with a group of like-minded women, each of whom have their own favorite idols, and each of whom have their own secrets about their personal lives. But when Miku announces that he’s quitting the business, Miyabi ends up like a boat adrift in the ocean. What she doesn’t realize is that Miku’s retirement is the catalyst for drama, turmoil and discovery—not only for Miyabi and Miku, but also the people around them.
The world of Japanese idols is a great subject for stories because the clash of fantasy and reality is inherent to it. Oshi ga Yameta focuses on the drive of fans to keep living in an illusory world, but not solely in a negative manner or judgmental manner. Individual and societal circumstances, like the pressure put on Japanese women to marry young, undergird the seemingly foolish decisions being made by idol fans. At the same time, the manga also portrays the idols themselves as being of all stripes, from those who genuinely buy into the idol image to those who enter the industry with ulterior motives. The lives depicted feel both ugly and beautiful, and it’s not always clear which aspects are which. Is Miyabi’s main sex client any better or worse than Miyabi herself in terms of how passion, love, and lust intertwine?
Comparing it to the biggest idol drama work of the day in Oshi no Ko, Oshi ga Yameta entirely lacks the supernatural elements as a plot hook. The latter also maintains its heroine’s perspective as a fan and nothing more (as opposed to having her enter the industry), and puts greater emphasis on the torrent of complicated emotions arising from a lifestyle that is both self-affirming and self-sabotaging. The art in Oshi ga Yameta is also very different, showing a messier style with less distinct differences in character designs, but which emphasizes its characters’ own dysfunctions and roiling emotions. The two series do resemble each other more in certain ways, but it’s not immediately obvious how.
I originally planned to read all of Oshi ga Yameta a lot sooner, so it’s funny that I would finish after the news about the Fuji TV scandal involving the former leader of the idol mega group SMAP. Juxtaposing this real scandal with that of the manga’s, it becomes clear that there’s still an element of fantasy even as stories feel “too real.” But the ability to approach sensitive topics while cloaked in fiction helps to provide plenty of food for thought, and this particular manga provides a hell of a buffet.
Of all the decades-long science fiction mega franchises in the world, Doctor Who is definitely one where I’ve long had little, if any exposure.
In my head, it was always this series where people got mad if I called the main character “Doctor Who.” It also had the image of being a relatively low-budget serial adventure that suddenly became big again around 2006 or so, had been going on since television was black and white, and somehow had still kept going. It was (somehow) a still-ongoing story whose various hiccups and plot inconsistencies can be hand-waved away with suspension of disbelief and time travel shenanigans—not unlike a mix of soap opera, pro wrestling, and Star Trek, with shades of the legacy of Buffy the Vampire Slayer in more modern times.
Oh, and I enjoyed seeing that one scene of Daleks vs. Cybermen. It works even without knowing a single bit of actual Doctor Who context.
But until recently, I don’t think I quite appreciated the lasting impact Doctor Who has made on culture and entertainment—not just in the UK, but around the world too.
I think there were two things that prompted me to start looking at the series more in-depth. First, I kept seeing people (including VTubers like Gawr Gura) make reference to the Doctor Who monsters known as Weeping Angels. Second, I read that the Doctor Who theme song is iconic, identifiable, and still very unique even after 60 years…and I couldn’t recognize it even if you played it in full for me. Knowing that this was a missing piece of television and pop culture education in my brain was my motivation to learn. And with a lot of help from a very well-maintained official Doctor Who Youtube channel, I started to just watch clips of iconic scenes from throughout its run going all the way back to the First Doctor. I read discussions about “who’s the best Doctor,” knowing that this debate has been going on for literal decades and across generations and waves of nostalgia. I learned that the aforementioned theme song is one of the two most continuously used theme songs ever (the other being James Bond), and even influenced Pink Floyd.
But one thing I held back on was watching actual full episodes of Doctor Who. Where do you even start? It’s a challenging question, even when compared to similarly old franchises like Gundam or Star Wars don’t have to face. In those cases, “go with some version of the original” does the trick, but with Doctor Who, there are literal episodes of the early era that were never archived, and by most estimations, Doctor Who didn’t hit its stride until at least a few years in.
I ultimately went with “Genesis of the Daleks,” a story from the Fourth Doctor era, because I read that it’s a widely beloved episode featuring one of the most popular Doctors of all time. I understood that it risked color my perception of Doctor Who to an extent, and that it would give me perhaps a different impression from the 21st-century “New Who” era that helped drive Tumblr discourse for over a decade alongside Supernatural and Sherlock (the so-called SuperWhoLock fandom). If this was the “peak” of Doctor Who, I tried to remember that the series is a range and not a single mountain.
I was impressed. Within the caveat of it still being fairly hokey, the basic plot is surprisingly serious and fraught with profound ethical dilemmas. The Doctor being forced to go back in time to try and stop the creation of the cruel, genocidal war machines that would become his greatest nemesis. He finds himself in a “would you shoot Baby Hitler?” scenario and a chance to convince the father of this army of Baby Hitlers to change his mind, only to realize that this creator is beyond all help. (And if the Nazi analogy wasn’t clear enough, all the soldiers fighting this forever war are all very SS-coded.) For a show aware of and expecting young viewers among its audience, these are heavy topics.
(I also can’t help but think about the fact that Nazis were still fresh in the general memory of humanity at this point. It’s perhaps appropriate that I’m watching this at a time when we are realizing once again that Nazism and fascism are clear and present threats that must be confronted.)
But even putting aside the weightiness of the topics, what truly makes “Genesis of the Daleks” work are the performances of the actors themselves. Tom Baker as the Doctor is so very convincing, both in terms of his portrayal of this eccentric protagonist around whom the series revolves, but also with the way he seems to really grapple morally and philosophically with the potential impacts of his decisions. Baker isn’t alone, either, as other actors (notably Elizabeth Sladen as Sarah Jane Smith) also bring a sense of sincerity to their performances.
The ability to make you believe that the characters believe their own words reminds me a lot of tokusatsu from Japan: The shows might look cheap, but the actors and presentation make the stakes feel real, and that’s something that can ring true on some level even if the writing, the visuals, or storytelling styles change. It’s also the case that, like Doctor Who, franchises such as Ultraman and Kamen Rider have themselves been ongoing for decades—with new protagonists coming in on a regular basis, and with continuous growing pains as they try to adapt to the changing times. Because of all this, I came to the conclusion that Doctor Who is basically British tokusatsu.
It’s actually more coincidence than anything else that I started watching Doctor Who during a time that I’ve heard about some wild things going on. I don’t pretend to have an opinion on all that because, well, I’ve just dipped my toes in. But it is funny and amazing to me that this work of fiction is somehow both massive and small, and that it has existed long enough to have made a mark on both the history of prog rock and Tumblr. I don’t know how much more I’ll end up watching, but never say never.
And did I write all that just to talk about watching a single Doctor Who story? Yes. Yes I did.
I’ve been thinking about Pokémon a whole bunch lately, particularly about the online community and how much time has passed. The competitive players I considered my friends are so far in the past that the next generation after them is considered the “old school.” I met many of them during Generation 1, and one of the most fascinating times was in the transition to Generation 2, particularly with regard to theorycrafting.
The importance and limitations of theorycrafting is something all players have to deal with in any competitive environment, but back when information was scarce and we only had questionably translated materials from the Japanese release, it really felt like something different. As with every generation change, players on sites like Azure Heights tried to figure out what would be strong in Gold and Silver. One answer that came up was Starmie.
On paper, it made sense. Starmie was among the top picks in Red, Blue, and Yellow. It was fast. It hit hard. Its movepool was also among the best. Not only did it learn powerful moves that benefited from its Water/Psychic typing (Psychic, Surf, Hydro Pump), but it could also cover every type combination in the game with Ice Beam and Thunderbolt (or Blizzard, which was ~90% accurate in Gen 1), and it learned amazing defensive/support moves in the paralyzing Thunder Wave and the health-restoring Recover. Being Psychic type was also a huge boon in a generation where they had no actual weaknesses.
Gen 2 introduced egg moves: techniques that Pokémon could only learn via breeding. This could potentially be transformative, and one move stood out in Starmie’s list: Confuse Ray. Being both paralyzed (25% chance to not move at all combined with a 75% speed reduction) and confused (50% chance to hit yourself and not execute a move) was among the most annoying things to deal with in Gen 1. To have parafusion on a single Pokémon seemed like a nightmare scenario, and so Starmie was predicted to be a serious meta threat.
Time proved things out differently, however. While parafusion could still be annoying, the changes made to the battle system went far beyond players’ early theorycrafting. The dividing of the Special stat into two (Special Attack and Special Defense) meant that moves like Amnesia and Psychic were not quite as effective. The introduction of the Dark and Steel type, and to a lesser extent the improvements made to Bug, all took away the Psychic types’ major advantage. Curse turned out to be an incredibly strong move, especially when paired with an incredibly bulky choice like Snorlax—even when stuck in place while paralyzed and confused, they could weather the storm and Rest off the damage. Heal Bell, a move that removed all the status effects inflicted on your own team, trivialized attacks like Thunder Wave. And this is the generation Mean Look and Perish Song was introduced, creating the Perish Trap strategy that could lock opponents in and force them into no-win scenarios.
Back then, the false hype of parafusion Starmie taught me something important: People will theorize based on their previous experiences because that’s what they have to rely on, and that strength is relative. Strategies don’t exist in a vacuum, and things that were considered universally strong sometimes falter in a different environment. (And sometimes, things are actively nerfed.) This is far from the only instance of theory not matching practice in Pokémon or even beyond, but it’s one I remember with a strong tinge of nostalgia.
OGIUE MANIAX 