Category Archives: thought exercise

Maybe Scanlators Just Gotta Scanlate

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Lately I’ve been following a most insightful user on Twitter called otaku dog. A Japanese person running an otaku goods import service, otaku_dog has made his presence known on the internet through his desire to engage with the English-speaking anime fandom. While I have not tried out his “Otaku Personal Import Agency,” I have had a chance to have a few discussions with him via Twitter.

It was in one conversation that he talked about how he is not only a fan of anime and manga, but also American comics, particularly Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. He spoke of his desire to read more of it, but that the translation never finished and that in general translation projects of American comics tend to die down and never revive.

“American comics translating projects often do not continues to last….(;- -)”

I do not know if he meant official translations or fan ones. Regardless, it made me think about the scanlation and fansubbing community, and how for all of the negatives in those communities, from the egotism to the translations wrought with errors to the personality clashes and drama and millions of other problems fan translators can have and often do, things still get translated. It might be the most popular series which get the most attention, but we see translation groups occasionally gravitate towards  fairly obscure series, even if the motive is to garner attention and praise. This is a huge contrast to otaku dog’s description of the reverse and in a way it’s quite impressive.

One possible factor for this wide disparity might be the fact that Japanese comics generally have significantly less text than their American counterparts, particularly with someone like Neil Gaiman penning the work. This is related to the differences in storytelling through panels that emerged between the two countries, and even those from the Golden Age that were produced purely for the enjoyment of children and not today’s older audience tended to be densely packed with text, making translating American comics possibly more time-consuming.

The difference in text density between Japanese and American comics also makes me think about that old stereotypical moment from throughout the decades, where a parent takes a child’s comic book away because it isn’t “really reading,” and that pictures in books are a sign that it’s juvenile. If only those parents knew about the brevity of dialogue in manga…

(By the way, I’m well aware that the title of this post can be a bit misleading.)

Dairy Influences: A Personal Look At “The Far Side”

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In his latest comic, the author of Gunshow Comic pays tribute to cartoonist Gary Larson (while also making a reference to his own series, The Anime Club, which I talked about previously). The Larson style was instantly recognizable to me, as I am actually a long-time fan of his classic one-panel newspaper comic The Far Side. Seeing this parody of the man’s work, it makes me want to reflect on the influence that his surreal humor had on me and my development in art and life.

Long before I could even really call myself an “anime fan,” I was a fan of The Far Side, calling it “my favorite comic” for years, and to this day I consider it to be the very best one-panel-style strip in history. For those unfamiliar with it, The Far Side was typically a single-panel (though it would sometimes split itself into two or more), and would be a mix of suburban stereotypes and off-kilter humor that took normal situations and twisted them just enough so that the mild absurdity would be magnified ten-fold. The comic also often featured humor based on biology, a direct consequence of Gary Larson himself being a biologist as well as a cartoonist, and while it had no real recurring “characters,” it did have a number of iconic designs and stylistic flairs. Bespectacled pudgy boys and their bee’s nest hairstyle mothers, animals standing and talking like people (particularly cows), and a tendency to have bulging eyes be an attention grabber were all common sights The Far Side. In a way, it was like a precursor to the Perry Bible Fellowship.

I would provide an example image, but Gary Larson has personally wrote letters asking everyone to not post his comics online, and while not 100% perfect it has worked surprisingly well. And so, even though I know that explaining a joke inevitably ruins it (as author Stephen King demonstrated in his foreword to The Far Side Gallery 2), I’m going to try so that you can understand Gary Larson’s style of humor.

The comic is situated in the backseat of a car, behind the driver. The driver is staring into his side-view mirror, and as is the case with all side-view mirrors, there is text to inform the driver that “objects in mirror are closer than they appear.” The object in the mirror, meanwhile, is an eyeball taking up the entire surface of the mirror. In other words, the object reflected is your eye staring into the comic’s panel (Again I apologize for my humor assassination).

So what did The Far Side do to me? When I first discovered it either fourth or fifth grade, I already loved to draw, but Gary Larson’s comic made me love art even more. It gave me a role model in art to look up to, and it gave me a direction to take in my drawing. I started actively trying to make things that would be seen as “crazy.” I created my own Far Side-style comic, called My Biz and also Crash and Bash Land, about horrible rides in an imaginary amusement park whose themes were violence and abuse of its customers. Both were as good as you’d expect a 10 year old’s attempts at Far Side knockoffs would be. Even after I discovered anime and became a “fan,” I held in my heart two dreams, to draw a full-fledged story comic like my favorite manga, and to create a humor comic that would appear in newspapers.

Today, though I no longer aspire to draw my own absurdist newspaper strip, I can see that Gary Larson had an enormous influence on my sense of humor, and for that I am ever so grateful, though my peers who have seen my brand of comedy in action may be inclined to disagree. You can even see The Far Side‘s effects on at least some of the drawings I have posted to Ogiue Maniax. And though I can’t tell you for certain, I think The Far Side probably even influenced my writing style through its combination of simplicity and eccentricity where even those who weren’t enthusiasts of biology could find a laugh or two.

Sometimes It’s Translated as “Hero” Too

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As I mentioned previously, Heroman seems to take a lot from Tetsujin 28, particularly with the idea of a kid remote-controlling a robot and using it to fight evil. However, I think there’s another series which draws a number of parallels to Stan Lee and Bones’ collaboration.

The series, or rather franchise I’m talking about is the “Yuusha” or “Brave” series. In  the 1990s, Sunrise and toy company Takara created a series of super robot cartoons emphasizing the combining robot (and in turn, sales of toys based on combining robots). There was a new show every year from 1990-1997, with The King of Braves Gaogaigar being the biggest name. The two I want to concentrate on in particular are the first two, Brave Exkaiser and, particularly, The Brave Fighter of the Sun Fighbird.

In both shows, alien space police possess Earth vehicles in order to fend off evil menaces, which is at this point the most likely origin for Heroman in my opinion, particularly with the way the scientist in the first episode of  Heroman sends his signal out to find extraterrestrial life. Similarly, in Fighbird a kooky scientist makes contact with alien life forms, including the aforementioned ghost alien cops, but also space criminals who escaped from a space prison (in space).

I know the similarities are pretty shallow, especially because Heroman is barely out at this point and hasn’t even established that much of its own story, but it really reminded me of those early Brave shows.

I’ll Be Waiting for My Check, Japan

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Anime and its fandom have managed to create personifications out of everything, from computer operating systems to charcoal to cans of soda, applying many of the popular character tropes to them and creating a fun logic exercise you can also get your rocks off to. At this point, you might ask, what’s left to capture the hearts of moe otaku everywhere? But I have the answer.

Imagine, if you will, a world where toilets are transformed into cute, beautiful girls. Modern toilets are a triumph of civilization, carrying with them notions of human progress and indoor plumbing, but at the same time also have quite a bit of variety to them. The division between the different characters could be along brand names, or along type. Personally, I think the latter would be more favorable for the purposes of creating a show/franchise.

The squat toilet could be the traditional yamato nadeshiko-type, while the high-tech toilet with the self-warming seat and such could be the enthusiastic computer geek. The french bidet would be the really classy one. And of course, the urinal would be a total tsundere tomboy.

And I don’t need to say anything about how the doujin community would utilize this fertile ground.

All in all, I think this is what you’d call money down the drain.

(By the way, I’m open to ideas for the title.)

Personally, My Favorite Anime Studio is Rolex

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Some time ago I noticed a running joke going across multiple anime throughout the decades, where the animators will put a clock or a watch in a show with the name of the studio displayed on it.


Aim for the Ace! (1973)


Kekkaishi (2006)

I really wish I had more samples to show, and I’m not sure how it all started, either. Does it even have its origins in Japanese animation? Can anyone answer that?

I think the first piece of the puzzle is probably just to see how prolific this sort of thing really is, so I’m making a call out to everyone who reads this blog and beyond: if you are so inclined, find as many instances as you possibly can of anime where a studio’s name is prominently displayed on a clock or watch.

Thoughts on “Bohemian Rhapsody” a la Matsumoto

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Watching the special music video of legendary UK band Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” as interpreted by Galaxy Express 999 and Captain Harlock creator Matsumoto Leiji, a few quick thoughts come to mind.

1) While the original music video is better, that’s because the classic one is just that hard to top. And while this one isn’t exactly mind-blowing, it’s still very well-animated and has that Matsumoto feel we all know and love. It can be kind of confusing at times though, like it’s trying to tell too much with too little and in the wrong format.

2) I like how the “Matsumoto Gauges,” or that staple of Matsumoto anime and manga where a room is filled to the brim with complex gadgetry and meters and such, has been updated to fit in more with current times. It looks much more “digital” now, and reminds me of modern stereo systems. It doesn’t have quite as visceral a feel, but it makes sense.

3) I wonder if this occurs in the same universe as Interstella 5555. Definitely a possibility, but as Daryl Surat would advise, don’t think about this too hard because Matsumotoverse continuity is paper-thin.

4) I picture Matsumoto going to an anime con and entering this in an AMV competition. Would he win? I don’t know, the character designs do look kind of old…

Hah! It Was Only a Dream…

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About two weeks ago, I made a post talking about the “spinning room” effect used in the opening to K-On!! Thinking that was going to be the end of it, I was surprised to have actually had a dream about the very same topic.

In the dream, I was showing someone the K-On!! opening, particularly the aforementioned effect, when suddenly the video started to act kind of funny. The video started to slow down, and at first I thought that maybe it was a problem with my computer as it’s not exactly what you would call “new,” but then the angle of the view itself changed, with greater focus on each individual character playing their instrument as the spinning room effect was still going on. I particularly remember the emphasis on Tsumugi and Ritsu, as the camera seemed to really sit there to showcase the size of their musical instruments.

Funny thing is that it actually took me a few hours after I woke up to even realize I had a dream, and didn’t actually try to show the K-On!! opening to someone. Also, I’m not sure if what I saw in my dream was the idealized version of the OP I had hoped for, but I think it was somewhere in that direction.

The Illusion of Equality is the Best Equality! …At Least in Mahjong

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In the past year, as I learned to play mahjong, I’ve had quite a few opportunities to play against people I know, whether it’s online or in live settings. Sometimes I win, many times I lose, and though I’m sure I’ve improved, I can’t tell you what strengths I have as a player, if any at all. I honestly have no idea. I also had a revelation that I have absolutely no idea if I’m better than any of my peers or vice versa.

When I think about it though, this is actually a strength of mahjong. Unless an opponent is significantly better than you, it’s actually very difficult to gauge who is the stronger player. If I had to hazard a guess as to why this is the case, I’d say that it has to do with 1) the large influence luck has on the game and 2) the fact that you can only see results, and not the process through which they succeeded.

Both factors manifest themselves, for example, when an opponent declares riichi. If you’ve watched mahjong anime, this is when a character throws a white stick on a table to indicate that his hand is “about to win,” sort of like declaring “Uno,” except it’s optional and you get bonus points for it. At this point, an opposing player has two basic choices: break up their own hand to avoid dealing into the opponent’s hand (in Japanese-style mahjong, a player cannot win off of a tile they already discarded, so you can “play it safe” by discarding things they have already discarded), or continue to build your hand towards victory, at the risk of losing. You either prioritize winning, or not losing. In other words, you attack or defend, advance or retreat.

You can tell to a certain extent what another player is doing, as there are situations where certain tiles are considered “dangerous,” particularly because none have previously been discarded, but there’s no guarantee. So when a player manages to avoid dealing into the riichi player’s hand, you might wonder, are they actually destroying their hand to avoid losing, are they getting lucky with their discards, or are they actually that good? Is it luck? Is it skill? Can you even tell the difference? Watching a replay will give you some of this information, but trying to figure this out in-game is another matter entirely.

Given the random nature of the game, sometimes good tiles are dealt and sometimes you get garbage, but the real influence comes from a combination of luck and the illusion of luck, derived  from being able to read only so much information. At the same time, luck is not an all-consuming factor, as the beauty of mahjong is that even if you’re doing terribly, you always feel like you have some control of the game, coming down to that simple choice again of whether to attack or to defend, to go for victory, or to cut your losses. It’s vaguely similar to Texas Hold ’em  (whose rules I just learned the other day) in that respect.

The result of not being able to tell who’s actually a better player is that the game feels more fair, even if it isn’t, and it’s exciting to not be able to tell who has the greatest chance of winning. It makes every game exciting.

I Want to Be the Very Best, Ready to Fight for What’s Right Against Wrong, in America

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Heroman feels like a return to an old idea, and probably not in the way you’re thinking.

When we think giant robots, we usually think of robots being piloted from within or being some kind of sentient being, but Heroman is neither (at least, not as of Episode 2). Instead, he’s an entity separate from the human, controlled through a remote device. Sound familiar? It’s the same premise as that progenitor of giant robot anime heroes, Tetsujin 28.

But as I implied, the giant robot moved away from having its hero exist separate from it, and that’s been the trend ever since. While there were attempts to bring back this idea on occasion, I think the reason it failed to succeed was that it just didn’t seem as exciting or as practical as having a cockpit. After all, I’m sure just about anyone who watches any incarnation of Tetsujin 28 will wonder why they don’t just target the completely vulnerable human controlling it. The answer, of course, is that Shoutarou would stab you in the neck and set you on fire because that’s how Shoutarou rolls (no, really), but the basic idea is that it just makes more sense on a variety of levels to in the protective bosom of your mecha. At least, that’s how I see the evolution of that general trend in giant robots.

But then when you think about it, the idea of the remote-controlled giant robot is surprisingly similar to a genre which supplanted mecha in popularity, profitability, and marketability: the monster battle anime, of which Pokemon is by far the most famous. And in time, this turned into not only monsters but mechanical creatures as well.

So we’ve gone from a remote-controlled giant robot to piloted robots to kids battling using monsters to kids battling using mechanical devices, and now with Heroman, a remote-controlled robot servant fighting alongside his owner, it’s  like we’ve come full circle.

As an aside, does anyone else get the feeling that this post is a product of me having recently finished Tetsujin 28 combined with me getting back into Pokemon? Yeah, I thought so.

The Bishounen and the Trap

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The Speakeasy Podcast recently released their 4th episode, wherein they talk about the “bishounen,” and all of the celebration and agony that comes from putting some eye candy for girls into anime that are traditionally considered “for guys.”

For those unfamiliar, the term bishounen literally means “beautiful boy,” and refers to characters in manga, especially shoujo manga, who are beautiful and effeminate. In being pretty, bishounen in turn violate the unwritten rules of Acceptable Beauty in a Man, where guys are allowed to look good, but only in a way that reaffirms heterosexuality by having them conform to the male view of what a lady killer is supposed to look like.

Simply put, bishounen threaten masculinity and make guys uncomfortable. But the “threat” of bishounen isn’t simply in their looks, but in their very presence, and to get to the real heart of the problem, we have to take a look at a very similar concept which also holds some very profound differences: the trap.

The origin of the term “trap,” as it’s used by English-speaking anime fans, refers to the idea that a male viewer is “tricked” into being attracted to what he thinks is a very attractive lady, only to find out that the character actually has a Y-chromosome. In some cases, it works so effectively that some will say that liking traps is still not considered “gay,” because the character is so effeminate that all they’re doing is appealing to a heterosexual man’s natural desires using the power of artistic expression.

Now what’s really interesting is that in some cases you’ll find examples of guys who love traps but hate bishounen. At first, it can appear to be a contradiction, but there’s a fundamental difference at work here: bishounen are designed to appeal to girls, while traps are designed to appeal to guys.

Of course I’m aware that there are plenty of guys who decry the presence of traps just as much as they do bishounen, guys who believe that both the moe fan and the fujoshi are killing anime. But I really believe that the thin line between bishounen and trap reveals the truth, and that it all comes down to fear.

Guys who lament the presence of bishounen are not as threatened by their good looks as they are the idea that the presence of bishounen means that guy-oriented anime will suffer in some capacity. When the bishounen talks, this is what they hear coming out of their mouths.

“These character designs are not for you.”

“We’re doing things to actively appeal to people that aren’t you.”

It’s the fear that girls will latch onto a show just for the hot guys and will ignore all of the deep and wonderful story that’s actually there and will refer to the guys as “bishies” and debate the degree to which they would “glomp” them. It’s the fear that anime which would have had excellent story and setting might end up being aborted half-way and turned into a hideous carbunkle that sacrificed its potential for greatness for scenes involving with male beauty, angst, and sparkling moonlight.

The truth of this matter is actually stated in the Speakeasy podcast: anime, in some capacity has always made attempts to appeal to girls, even in that most manly of genres, the giant robot anime. The original fans of Mobile Suit Gundam were actually mostly female. UFO Robo Grendizer found a female fanbase as well, because of some of the romance elements in the story, as well as the presence of strong female characters. Even Gowapper 5 Godam tried to appeal to girls by being the first giant robot series to have a girl as the main character. They may have been a secondary audience to the boys buying action figures, but when it comes down to it, what’s wrong with having an audience that’s 50% female?