Category Archives: thought exercise

The Colors of Modern Fanservice

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As part of the ritual of watching new shows at the start of a season, I decided to check out the show Kampfer. Immediately upon watching it, I got this strong feeling that I knew exactly the kind of show it was going to be (and I was right). Sure, the character designs are what you expect out of this sort of otaku-targeting fanservice show, but it was something much more fundamental than that. Then it hit me: It was the color scheme.

Lots of anime throughout the years have had bright or cheerful color schemes, but there’s something very distinct about the kinds of shows that are made in order to get otaku in a tizzy. When it comes to art, color and color theory were never my strong suit, so I cannot speak with any real authority or learned foundation, but there is a certain optimistic quality to the colors used in Kampfer and shows like Kampfer. Even if terrible things happen to the characters, it comes across as a fantasy that wants the viewer to become engrossed in, but at the same time makes it easy to remove oneself from that fantasy if one desires to do so.

kkitousen is affected by this to a lesser extent, due to the fact that it uses colors with greater saturation and contrast, but it still shares a similar fondness for bright colors combined in specific ways. These shows appear to be aiming for an ideal, trying to tap into a core color scheme that is attractive to otaku on some deeper level.

The reason, I suspect, is that they are getting very close to the colors commonly used in erotic PC games.

Here we have Kimi Ga Nozomu Eien aka Rumbling Hearts. The soft gradients seen here which are common to erogames are also pretty much impossible for any anime to achieve on a consistent basis. It looks as if the staff working on these “erogame color” shows try to achieve the same effect by choosing bright colors with a little less contrast than normal.

I also suspect that this color scheme also exudes a very negative connotation among people who dislike these sorts of shows inherently. It’s probably something which jumps out at them subconsciously and tells them that they may be in for a rough ride should they continue to watch.

Color is such a huge topic that obviously I can’t cover it all in one post. For that reason don’t be surprised if I return to the topic again at some point in the future.

Otaku Diaries: Surprise! Nerds Think They’re Smart

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The Reverse Thieves’s Otaku Diaries continue on, and this time the theme is self-image. More specifically, it’s about how the otaku interviewed view themselves physically and mentally, and probably to no one’s surprise, the vast majority of anime nerds polled stated that while they believe themselves to be average in appearance at best, they also believe they’re smarter than the average person. It’s as if we’ve fully embraced the nerd moniker.

In some cases, the otaku are rather extreme with the degree to which they consider themselves more intelligent than the average, which begs the questions, just how is it that they determine the average, and why do those responses have either a strong or subtle hint of negativity to them?

The concept of intelligence is such an odd thing in that while we are sure that it exists, we are never really sure what entails someone to be “more” intelligent than someone else. We can give IQ tests, we can discuss politics and philosophy, we can converse about anime, but it is difficult to get a complete idea of a person’s intellectual capacity, especially if you see them only briefly. What is the average intelligence actually supposed to be like, and why are we on the winning side?

I ask this question to you, but then I remember I too answered that I was smarter than the average person, so I guess I should direct this at myself as well. So when I think about “average” intelligence, I do tend to think of someone who is perhaps not as perceptive as me in certain ways, but is able to do just fine in the world. They can think about complex ideas, and while they perhaps cannot work out a conclusion, will at least be able to conceive that a solution exists somewhere out there. I mean, average is average right? And environment can play a large role in just where a person directs or cultivates his brain matter.

But then I think about my friends, classmates, previous co-workers, family, just various people over the years, and I’m not sure how many people I know are average or below average in intelligence. Even the bullies who picked on me had to be smart in a certain sense, if they could bother me with just words. Even friends in the past where I’ve thought, “I’m probably smarter than him,” have surprised and humbled me. Maybe the “average” is higher than any of us expect.

AMV Makers, Here is My Challenge to You

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An AMV of Queen’s Blade set to “Princes of the Universe” by Queen.

The stipulation is that you have to make the video look as serious as possible. As serious as those AMVs about two characters in serious love. You know the kind.

The Fear of Ridicule

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Anime fans are no strangers to being ridiculed. We tend to be socially inept to varying degrees, and we have a hobby that others don’t really understand (or more specifically, they don’t understand how we could devote so much time and energy and emotion to it). This creates a strong fear inside of us, that someone, whether it’s people at your school, your co-workers, your friends and acquaintances, does not think very highly of you. I’m no exception, and I know that I am neither the first dork nor the last one to experience this fear. I understand that it’s the kind of thing that can paralyze an individual, and make them unable to interact with others and grow, which in turn paralyzes them further.

Perceived ridicule comes from all angles, but the most interesting by far is the ridicule that comes from your “in-group,” in this case other anime fans. It’s one thing to be attacked from the outside, you can retreat, you can defend, but when the attack happens from “within,” it makes you feel that much more vulnerable. Again, you don’t even have to experience an actual slight. All it takes is the fear of one, and then it becomes a matter of overcoming it or ignoring it.

The reason why this fear of ridicule is so strong and present is that none of us can say we have never met a fellow fan who has weirded or creeped us the hell out. In some cases, as we get to know them we realize they’re okay overall, but there are those who are just somehow unapproachable, whether it’s due to their abrasive personalities, tendency to kill any line of conversation, or just someone whose presence in a room makes everything worse. We’ve seen these people, and then we think, “Wait, maybe I’m like that! I’m so busy thinking less of this person, but I bet that guy doesn’t think he’s that guy either, so maybe I was that guy all along!” Then you start to wonder what qualities about yourself might make you the person no one wants to be around, and now, even if you weren’t that guy, you might become him inadvertently, or worse yet, in your efforts to not be him as much as possible, you change yourself into a sad shell of who you were.

How do you move past this point? I’m not sure if any anime nerd will ever be able to completely rid themselves of these feelings, but we can take things one step at a time, and learn more about ourselves and others. If we know what we like and what we do not, and have confidence tempered by humility, then I think we’re on the right path.

The Anime of Anime Fans

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There are times when I wonder about the perception of anime among regular folks in the US who have been exposed to it, but as of late I’ve wondered more about anime’s perception in the US among people who consider themselves to be anime fans. What do they look for in shows? What draws people to certain titles and has them going to cons dressed as or hugging certain characters? Obviously I can’t just pin it down on any couple of trends, seeing as otaku are a diverse bunch, but why do some shows succeed that you might never expect, and why are certain ones seemingly destined for success flops?  If I could answer this definitively, I would be rolling in cash money so don’t expect any revelations, but I feel like there is a certain something which attracts the vast majority of anime fans, a certain look and feel in any given era that gives off the impression that this is something new and different, and yet somehow just familiar enough to resonate deeply. Depending on the era, these qualities change, but they are what grab the individual, transform them into an anime fan, and then keep them there.

The Effects of Visual Falsehood

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In the Anime World Order review of Nobody’s Boy Remi, Gerald Rathkolb discusses the way in which the narrator plays with the expectations of its viewers by saying things that turn out to be completely false a short while after. If the narrator says that Remi found some money and spent it happily, there would likely be a scene shortly after where he accidentally drops the money down a sewer.

Generally, identity-less narrators are seen as omniscient, so either the narrator does not actually know everything, or is actively deceiving the audience. A similar effect happens with misleading episode titles. How many times does Chiba Shigeru in Hokuto no Ken declare in the next episode that a major character is definitely going to die but actually doesn’t? It makes a person begin to doubt the authenticity of words in fiction.

But words are easy to ignore as lies. The very idea of lying is tied closely to the use of words. If someone says you’re lying, it usually has to do with what you’ve said and not what you’ve done. What happens then, when the lies are not words but pictures?

Ambiguity in a given scene is a common technique used in anime and manga to create a sense of tension and drama. In Dragon Ball Z, a character attacks an enemy with so many energy projectiles that a giant explosion occurs where the target was standing. This ambiguous moment is meant to leave the viewer in anticipation as to whether or not the attack worked, though the explosion itself begins to take on a symbolic identity as a red herring and leads the viewer to assume that the opponent did not in fact die. What I’m referring to with visual falsehood though is something far more sinister.

While I cannot speak for everyone, I tend to believe that what is presented to me on the screen or on the page is what has happened in the story. In other words, there is a certain degree of “truth” to the visuals of a manga, because without them how are we supposed to know what has or has not happened?

One prominent manga author who uses visual falsehoods to their utmost advantage is Fukumoto Nobuyuki, creator of gambling series such as Mahjong Legend Akagi: The Genius Who Descended into the Darkness, Gambling Apocalypse Kaiji: The Suffering Pariah -The Ultimate Survivor-, and Gambling Emperor Legend Zero. In Akagi and Ten for example, mahjong hands are displayed right on the page and presented as what a given character has to work with. In the anime for Akagi, the hand is generally displayed by itself floating in a space, as if to say that this is an objective view of the mahjong hand. Of course, it turns out not to be, and we are presented with what is really there.

This is a scene from Zero where the main character is faced with a scenario where he cannot see who is behind the wall. Fukumoto lets us the readers take a peek at the person behind the wall. Then he reveals the truth!

What are we to believe? Reveals like these are downright disarming.

A non-anime/manga example of this comes in the form of Megaman 9. In this game, there is an enemy that disguises itself as a 1-Up icon. Attempting to get a free life will of course result in an unpleasant surprise.

Though the enemy is not difficult to defeat, it creates some paranoia in the player. Just which 1-Ups are real? Does that 1-Up seem too good to be true? The game has challenged your perception of what “should” be.

I do not believe these visual lies impact these works negatively, but when the images themselves are untruths, it can create a sense of imbalance, a distrust for what is in front of you. Keep in mind that in Fukumoto’s case, this never damages the “gambling” or “mystery” aspects of his stories, so you are also unable to just doubt everything and view his works from a position of absolute superiority. It adds a new layer to reading manga, one where you are in a sense competing against the creators themselves.

Am I “Qualified?”

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This is one of those weird blogging about blogging posts. If you have no interest in waxing philosophy on such matters, then I suggest you go watch some anime (because anime is awesome).

If you look at the way in which I form ideas and write them out here at Ogiue Maniax, you will see that I have a tendency to qualify statements, taking simple sentences and complicating them in order to fully explain what I mean. Generally my goal is to remove as much ambiguity as I can (unless intended), but it can be a dangerous habit that can lead to strong assertions being weighed down by too many technicalities.

It’s not so much that I dislike the fact that I qualify statements so often(ah, there it goes!), but rather that I think it’s a good thing for me and other writers to be aware of. We can then know when it is appropriate to try and clarify in great detail what we’ve said previously, and when it is best to let something just stand on its own merits (in my case, this usually takes the form of a bad pun). In a manner of speaking, it all comes down to “how much should you say?”

The other major pitfall of over-qualifying statements is that if done incorrectly it can make your words seem as if they are constantly contradicting themselves in order to keep your opinion “correct.” That’s something to really watch out for.

A Dance Opening is More Than Just a Dance: Haruhi 1 vs Haruhi 2

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Yamamoto “Yamakan” Yutaka tends to divide the anime community with the anime he’s worked on, especially with his reluctant reputation as the most well-known creator of “dance segments” for anime openings and endings. Think Haruhi, Lucky Star, Kannagi, and you’ll get an idea of what I’m talking about. Now there are those among us, including myself, who have decried the overuse of dances in anime intros and outros, criticizing them as being too much of a fad, a gimmick which other anime are trying to latch onto in order to give themselves more otaku cred.

And they’d be right, except it doesn’t disqualify any of the above-mentioned Yamakan shows from being catchy bookends to each episode. Simply put, they’re quite good and they deserve to be catchy.

What actually made me newly appreciate Yamakan’s work was the second season of Haruhi. Watching the new ED, it just did not have any of the pop or style of the first series’ infamous “Hare Hare Yukai.”

Haruhi Season 1 ED

Haruhi Season 2 ED

It’s not like I’m criticizing the level of animation in the new ED; in many ways the animation in the new ED is better than the old one. And I’m not comparing the full Hare Hare Yukai dance itself to the new ED either. However, I really feel that the new ED’s sense of timing is a little lacking compared to the original, and that it overuses certain visual elements (a problem that goes double for the new OP). It was a pretty good idea, but the execution leaves something to be desired.

I’m not promoting the proliferation of even more dance numbers in anime, but rather just pointing out an example in which we have to look beyond the fad and into the core of what makes an opening catchy or memorable. I think that if you gave Yamakan an opening to storyboard and told him “no dancing,” he’d still be able to create something just as visually engaging.

Reductive Production

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As of late, I’ve felt that quite a few anime creators have been taking a reductive approach to determining what is necessary for a piece of fiction to actually work. They’re examining the innards of animation as a story-telling device, and removing seemingly vital organs in order to determine whether it was a heart or if it was just the tonsils. The three most prominent examples I can think of are Miyazaki, Oshii, and Kyoto Animation.

Miyazaki asks, “Do I really need a cohesive narrative when I just want to illustrate a series of events in animation?” and then creates Ponyo.

Oshii asks, “Does my movie really need to be actively engaging when I want to make a movie entirely about tedium?” and then creates Sky Crawlers.

Kyoto Animation asks, “Can a work be considered ‘new’ if everything BUT the story itself is entirely redone?” and then creates the Endless Eight portion of Haruhi.

In every instance here, creators are using their reputations to put surprisingly experimental animations in a public setting for mass consumption. In the case of Oshii and Miyazaki, it’s in the theater, and for Kyoto Animation it’s on TV in the form of one of the most popular anime in recent years. And with these experiments, they are asking a rather weighty question: what exactly is fiction? They’re asking themselves, asking the audience, asking the industry, and depending on the answer they receive, we may see more works like this or less.

How do you feel about this? Should creators be using such public settings to experiment to such an extent?

I feel like in every instance here, creators are using their reputations to put surprisingly experimental animations in a public setting for mass consumption. In the case of Oshii and Miyazaki, it’s in the theater, and for Kyoto Animation it’s on TV in the form of one of the most popular anime in recent years.

Aim for the Ace Anime Adaptations Analysis

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The year was 1973, and a young anime studio named Madhouse began work on its first big series, an adaptation of a popular tennis manga called Ace o Nerae! or Aim for the Ace! as it translates in English. Running 26 episodes, it was directed by Dezaki Osamu and had character designs by Sugino Akio, a duo that continues to work together even to this day, including Rose of Versailles, the 90s Black Jack OVAs, and Space Adventure Cobra. They also worked together on every other anime adaptation of Aim for the Ace!

With that in mind, I thought it’d be interesting to just put the openings of each of the Ace series next to each other, if only to see how time, money, and experience have affected the same series over the course of two decades.

1973’s Ace o Nerae!

1978s Shin Ace o Nerae!

1988’s Ace o Nerae 2!

It might be a little unfair to compare openings, but I feel that doing so is a good indicator for seeing how an anime series wishes to be first seen. When you look at the 1973 opening vs the 1978 opening though, you can already see a world of difference. Character designs in Shin Ace are cleaner and more consistent, perhaps at the expense of some of the wild and untamed artwork that characterizes the original. Everything is also much-better animated, with fewer visible shortcuts being taken. Fast forward to 1988 and of course you can see a huge change, brought on by overall progress in anime, an OVA-level budget and changing visual trends in anime (and in real-world fashion). Keep in mind though that unlike, say, Cutie Honey, where each incarnation is done by a different studio and different people at the helm, Ace 2 has the same core team as the first Ace, and what you’re seeing here is direct evidence of how they changed over the course of 15 years.

I think the biggest difference between the original and the later series is that by the time of Shin Ace, the anime is actively trying to portray human figures in a three-dimensional space, and Ace 2 even moreso. If you look at the original TV series, even in the opening it never wants to tell you exactly where the characters are in any given moment. It feels closer to a manga brought to life, for better or worse. In that regard, I feel that the original has a certain charm that the others lack, the kind of appeal that comes from seeing just how much people could do with so little.

Really though, I just think they should have kept the hair from the first TV series throughout each incarnation. That includes the live-action series from a few years ago.