Go Diego Go!

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Vamos Diego Vamos!

Scott Pilgrim, Monkey Manga, Negima! Decisive Interviews Against the Comics Industry!

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Comics Alliance put up an interview with Bryan Lee O’Malley, creator of Scott Pilgrim, and Takekuma Kentarou and Aihara Kouji, authors of the satirical yet highly informative guide, Even a Monkey Can Draw Manga. It focuses mainly on the influence Monkey Manga (a cocky, saucy book this one is) had on Bryan as he was getting ready to make Scott Pilgrim, as well as how the series differs from manga (Scott breaking up with Knives for no reason would have been a no-no).

Before you read that talk, or alternatively after you’ve read it, I highly recommend checking out the discussion between Takekuma and Love Hina and Negima! artist Akamatsu Ken, which was translated a few months ago. Whereas the Comics Alliance post focuses almost entirely on the creative side of things, the Takekuma-Akamatsu talk looks at where manga is headed as an industry and how it might have to change. You can see my thoughts on that article here, but I’m putting it next to the O’Malley one just to show how various ideas are being thrown about in terms of how manga and other forms of comics can intermingle on artistic and pragmatic levels. O’Malley talks about the influence of manga on his work, Takekuma and Akamatsu talk about potentially having a division of the workload similar to American comics, and at the very least, it gives the impression that the future of comics will look very different from today.

Read both articles and tell me what you think. I’m very curious to see what kind of impression is given when they’re experienced together.

Mizuhashi Kaori and Tohoku-ben

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Mizuhashi Kaori is one of my favorite voice actors, and not just because she’s the voice of Ogiue. Her range is quite impressive, and it often makes it difficult to initially figure out that a character is indeed her. As for her role as everyone’s favorite fujoshi character, Mizuhashi has talked before about how she had to learn and practice Ogiue’s Tohoku dialect, not being from that area.

This makes her recent role in Nichijou (aka My Ordinary Life) all the more interesting. Playing the angel character in the bizarre “Helvetica Standard” skits, in episode 9 she tries to teach a demon how to pronounce “chirashizushi,” a dish which is comprised of sushi rice (i.e. vinegared rice) with sashimi on top. Think of it as a pile of deconstructed sushi. Try as she might though, the demon slurs all of the syllables in a distince Tohoku-ben fashion, turning “chirashizushi” into “tsurasuzusu.” “Sushi” when spoken in Tohoku-ben sounds like “Susu.”

I have no idea if this influenced her hiring as the Helvetica Standard Angel, but I think it makes for an interesting circle, going from having to learn Tohoku-ben to successfully play a character with that accent to playing a character who is trying to teach another character not to speak in that fashion.

Ogiue

ka.

The Skill Mezzanine

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Over the past few years, there has been an upswing in video games geared for competition (or at least modified to be competitive). Starcraft 2, Street Fighter IV, the new Mortal Kombat, the concept of “eSports” is managing to achieve more success around the world than had been seen previously, with the notable exception of South Korea where Starcraft competition already managed to achieve a good deal of competitive success.

Many of these new games are sequels, and they emerge in a gaming environment far different from their predecessors. In some cases, as with Starcraft and Marvel vs. Capcom, it’s been over a decade since their most immediate ancestors. Online play has filled the long void that was left by the death of arcades. Facebook games and other bits of entertainment which fall under the heading of “casual” have made video games a common part of many people’s lives. There are now more people playing video games than in previous decades, but many of them do not devote themselves to games, particularly ones that foster competition. One of the results of this has been a move towards easier controls, reducing the number of things to do, simplifying actions, increasing the influence of random chance, and just making games where people can more easily feel like they’re accomplishing something.

In doing so however, there is a backlash created among those communities, because what this means is that, compared to those older games, they seem a little…softer. More forgiving. This in turn can be interpreted as an affront to the competitive spirit, especially for those games which dare to call themselves competitive, because it is giving a break to the weaker players. Many times, criticism will come in the form of questioning a game’s “skill ceiling.” The argument goes that if a game is less demanding on a fundamental level, it will result in a game where the best of the best will be unable to distinguish themselves from the masses more commonly known as “the rest.” Certainly this scenario is not out of the question, but what I’d argue is that those critical of these games’ skill ceilings often misuse the term and that they’re arguing against something quite different. For if the “skill ceiling” is the absolute limits of competitive skill, and the “skill floor” is the bare minimum to even understanding the game, then what those people are really arguing against is the lowering of a kind of “skill mezzanine,” the first space up from the skill floor and the minimum amount of skill needed to compete and win matches against others who are also trying to do the same.

“One guy was clearly making more mistakes than the other but he still won. This game is awful.” Putting aside the fact that weaker competitors are often capable of beating stronger ones simply because of how “skill” is nebulous and but one of many factors in competition (mental state being an arguably more important one), such an argument can be summarized by the idea that the game is too forgiving of mistakes, and that because a weaker player is more prone to errors, it rewards them unfairly. But a game that punishes mistakes less is not the sign of a lowered skill ceiling so much as it is evidence of a lowered skill mezzanine, and this is because even if the best players are the ones who are closest to touching the ceiling, the players worse than them do not have to aim for that ceiling as well. Their goal could simply be to touch the feet of those better players, and a more forgiving game means that they can accomplish such a task more easily, no matter how high the ceiling may be.

The higher the skill mezzanine however, the tougher it is for people to reach basic competitive competency, which has the effect of weeding out less devoted players. What remains, if numbers are sufficient (and there is always the danger of that not happening for a game), is that the only people left are the ones who have been able to overcome some very unforgiving limitations.

One of the consequences of mistaking the skill mezzanine for the skill ceiling is that people conflate the concept of game limitations that were overcome through skill with the idea that game limitations necessarily generate skill. Veteran Starcraft competitor and commentator Sean “Day 9” Plott often emphasizes that imposing restrictions can be a useful method for improving one’s gameplay. In that sense, the rules of a particular game can be seen as a forced limitation rather than a self-imposed one. But it is also a mistake to believe that those specific limitations should be the standard by which all other games are judged, to confuse the concept of limitation with the particulars of execution. Soccer is the most popular sport in the world, and is praised for the amount of mental and physical skill required to play it at a high level. One of the most basic rules, the one that gives soccer its internationally more popular name of “football,” is that a player is normally not allowed to touch the ball with their hands. This simple yet profound limitation (hands being vitally important to the survival of humankind) encouraged people to find ways to move the ball with the rest of their body, and as the game has developed over the course of generations, soccer players discover new methods and refine them. But one cannot say that, because soccer developed into “the beautiful game” in part due to the limitations on hands, that all other ball sports should also ban the use of hands.

There is nothing inherently wrong with criticizing a game’s capacity for competition, because there are games that are objectively more competitive than others. Chess is far more complex than tic-tac-toe. One game can indeed have a lower skill ceiling than the other. But I think it is important for people critical of a game’s skill ceiling to be able to distinguish between it and the skill mezzanine in order to discuss a game’s competitiveness.

Hulu Says, “Watch Anime.” I Say, “Uhhh…”

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For the first time in a long while I’ve been able to use Hulu, and naturally the first thing I do is go watch some cartoons. While watching anime on Hulu, I got an ad for…anime on Hulu. That’s nice, why not advertise your services? People might not know, and I assume that these ads aren’t just preaching to the choir and appear on other shows.

As I watched the 30-60 second ad (I don’t quite remember how long it was exactly), I came to an odd realization that the ad was not making me want to watch anime. If you haven’t seen it, it basically features various clips from anime titles on Hulu (Naruto, Soul Eater, School Rumble, etc.) to the tune of an instrumental version of the first Soul Eater opening. Something about it doesn’t sit right with me, and I think it has to do with how similar it is in spirit to ADV’s old anime advertisements which emphasize thie idea anime is action, giant robots, magical girls, comedy, straight from Japan, not kids’ stuff, etc. I even like a good amount of the shows used in the ad, but it’s like they took the most spastic and anime-ey scenes they could find and called it a day’s work.

I don’t have a solution to offer myself, for an advertising wizard I am not, but I can easily think of one example that I feel inspires people to watch anime. Back in the early-mid 2000s, Toonami would run ads for their shows, usually grouped together by a theme. They made anime feel grand and special in a way that wasn’t just drawing on kids’ desires to see something different (though obviously that was still a factor).

(It also doesn’t hurt that the narrator is Optimus Prime.)

The above video indeed feels like it’s promoting a lot of the things that the old ADV commercials and the Hulu one do, but so much more weight is given to themes that are explored through anime than to the flesh and spectacle of techno-oriental exoticism. If the Hulu ends up working out for Hulu and they get tons of new viewers, then more power to them, but I still think the ad could be something more substantial.

Mahjongs at Dawn

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Friend, mahjong ally, and translator kransom is currently in Japan, and in a conversation online he mentioned to me the fact that Texas Hold ’em has a similar reputation in Japan that Japanese-style mahjong has in America. In other words, it has a small but devoted following where if you say to someone that you know how to play Texas Hold ’em, they’ll get really excited and invite you to play, possibly showing off their Real Authentic poker set in the process. Having a passing familiarity with Texas Hold’em and more of an understanding of mahjong, I can see why they would have a similar exotic and wild appeal. They’re both games where you have to manage your luck.

The only thing that’s missing for Japan is an Akagi equivalent, an intensely dramatic series that thrills you into loving poker. If such a thing could be produced in the US, then the circle would be complete.

Thinking about mahjong as a storytelling device however, I realize that there is an inherent “flaw” of sorts with the game that doesn’t quite exist in Texas Hold ’em, and that is mahjong’s inability to naturally come down to a one-on-one situation. That’s not to say that a 1v1 battle is impossible, but mahjong is inherently a four-player game, with a strange three-player variant if you’re one man short, but no long-standing rules for two players. As a result, mahjong stories have to go through great efforts to transform the game into a duel, whether it’s coming up with an entirely new (and untested) rule set (Ten, Shin Janki), pushing two of the players into supporting or even essentially non-existent roles, or modifying it into a 2v2 game. Texas Hold ’em however can start with a large group and as more and more players lose all of their money, the game can end up in a 1v1 with no wild changes made to the basic rules of the game.

So Texas Hold ’em has potential, though I think anyone who’s seen games knows that. Make it a series about female poker players who really enjoy each others’ company if you have to.

Speaking of, I realize that Saki prefers to have all four players in a mahjong game be their own characters, as opposed to lackeys for more prominent figures in the story, and is kind of an exception as a result. That route is, of course, also a good one.

Kanji Deja Vu

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One of the most frustrating things in studying Japanese is coming across a kanji you swear you should know but still don’t.

Usually what will happen is that I’m reading something in Japanese, be it manga, article, essay, or book, and I’ll hit a particular word that I don’t know the meaning of, but still feel like I recognize it. Then it hits me that I’d seen this word previously, and I had been in almost the exact same situation, where I’d be looking at something and finding the kanji, this time determined to commit it to memory. Except I didn’t which is why I’m in that current situation in the first place. Ever break a promise to yourself and then forget that you did? It’s kind of like that, only I don’t ruin my friendship with me forever as a result.

A couple of recent examples include:

基礎 Kiso, meaning “basis.”

至る Itaru, meaning “to reach.”

Maybe if I just complain about Japanese enough, I’ll learn it.

Jokin aside, the real culprit is obviously under-use, and if only I’d keep up my studies more consistently this sort of thing wouldn’t happen. I’m reading quite a bit of Japanese lately so hopefully more of it will be able to stick, at least reading-wise. Spoken Japanese is another matter entirely, and I can feel myself not developing in that regard as much as I should (and possibly even regressing a good deal). I have to reassert my conviction to learn, as I have every reason to do so.

Catching Hearts: A Response to Scamp’s Heartcatch Precure! Review

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This post is in response to Scamp, aka The Cart Driver’s review of Heartcatch Precure! It goes way into spoilers, so be warned. If you want to read something significantly less spoiler-heavy, I suggest yesterday’s review.

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Wonderful Dreams of True Friendship: Heartcatch Precure!

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There’s something special, really special, about Heartcatch Precure!, so much so that I think the best way to properly convey its brilliance is to take the long, scenic route to introducing it. It’s a show whose strengths can be subtle yet obvious, and I want to really give the show its proper due as a noticeably strong piece of fiction which utilizes nearly all of its elements intelligently and artistically without ever losing its sense of fun.

The premise is simple and familiar. A heroic figure, Cure Moonlight, suffers a traumatic defeat, and in desperation sends two young fairies to Earth to find two individuals capable of taking her place. The first girl is Hanasaki Tsubomi, a young girl and recent junior high transfer student who loves flowers. Tired of her meek personality, Tsubomi sees the move as an opportunity to turn her life around. The second girl is Kurumi Erika, an aspiring fashion designer who immediately sees Tsubomi as a friend, but whose eagerness and hyper disposition exasperate and overwhelm Tsubomi. Together, they become Cure Blossom and Cure Marine, fighting against an evil group whose goal is to transform the Earth into a wasteland by feeding off the fears and doubts of humans.

Pretty typical on its surface, Heartcatch Precure! manages to go above and beyond through not just its technical execution but what I would actually describe as “heart.” One of the most prominent aspects of the show for me is the mature and helpful manner in which it discusses a variety of serious topics that not only kids but even adults can grapple with in their daily lives, and this complexity tempered by graceful simplicity extends to all areas of the anime as well. In terms of visual design, the character designs are less stiff when compared to typical Precure designs (or even anime characters in general) without being overly esoteric, and the pastel colors and free-flowing line work breathe a sense of vibrancy into them. This in turn makes both the show’s action and non-action scenes stand out in a manner reminiscent of Casshern SINS (no surprise given that they share the same character designer), trading the dreary, post-apocalyptic world of that anime for one whose messages of hope and growth are more apparent. The narrative is also bolstered by the visual aesthetics, as they are able to support the strong characterization found in the show through their sheer energy, whether they’re laughing or crying or just walking about.

Right from the first episode, the characters are remarkably complex and their interactions dynamic and fun. Of particular note is Erika (pictured left), who I find to be an amazingly well-rounded character who complements Tsubomi well, and whose traits give her not only a lot of fundamental strength but also room to grow. While the Precure franchise has always been about the contrasting personalities of its main characters, Tsubomi and Erika are not so easily divided into opposing categories like “smart” vs. “athletic,” or “loud” vs. “quiet,” though they exhibit such differences to a certain degree. As the show progresses, rather than trying to make up for each others’ weaknesses, the girls learn from each other and deepen their friendship, and it’s a wonderful thing to see play out.

Going beyond the main two, the character Myoudouin Itsuki provides another interesting example. Itsuki, being the successor to her family’s martial arts dojo, crossdresses in order to represent her status as “next in line.” Unlike many other shows, however, Itsuki’s issue isn’t about whether she feels any bitterness towards having to act as a “man,” but whether or not the amount of responsibility and pressure she’s willingly put on herself is making her disregard her own feelings. This more thorough, yet still relatively simple, psychological exploration contributes to the show’s strong sense of characterization.

Perhaps the greatest strength of Heartcatch Precure! can be found in the way it shows that there is life beyond the immediate. Notable in this regard is the establishment of the character “Dark Precure” (the one who defeats Cure Moonlight at the start) as a powerful antagonist who completely outclasses the heroines and who continues to be a legitimate threat every time she appears. This is a rare feeling in previous Precure series, and part of the show’s draw simply has to do with seeing how the girls can manage to overcome this seemingly insurmountable obstacle, an adversary they are actually unsure of how to defeat.

By far the best representation of this broader perspective, however, comes from the fact that Heartcatch Precure! acknowledges the world past junior high. In every other Precure series, none of the main characters are ever older than 15. Once they hit the end of their third year in junior high(9th grade in the US and other countries), the show ends and nothing more is ever seen of them, and even when they appear in the crossover movies, they are always portrayed as still being in junior high. Heartcatch Precure! bucks that trend. Cure Moonlight is 17 years old. Tsubomi’s grandmother, who is in her late 60s, is actually a former Precure herself. These older figures not only guide the younger Cures through their experience, but also learn from the younger girls’ optimism and zest for life, making it less of a one-way street and more of a mutual growth which spans generations.

My fondness for Heartcatch Precure! is quite obvious at this point, but I do think there are areas where it falls short, and I feel that the best way to sum up my criticism is to compare it to Ojamajo Doremi, a similar magical girl show which actually shares much of the same staff. In that light, I find that the biggest flaw in Heartcatch Precure‘s is how “beating up the enemy” is too often the solution to a character’s problems, even in situations where fighting has little to do with the dilemma at hand. Granted, it’s certainly not the only show in the world to do this, but I know Heartcatch could have done better in this regard, especially given Doremi. In contrast, Doremi‘s most glaring problem, the blatant toy-pushing aspect of the show, is handled far more gracefully in Heartcatch Precure! Owing to the strong visual design of the show mentioned before, the transformation sequences and the special attack animations so typical of the magical girl genre almost never feel tiresome because of how lively they are.

Watch Heartcatch Precure! If you’re not that big a fan of magical girls, if you haven’t enjoyed the Precure franchise in the past, I think this is a really good place to start. It exceeded my expectations in almost every way, and it might do the same for yours. Just keep in mind to not expect too much to quickly and enjoy the show at its own pace.

Notes on Genshiken Volume 10 Extras

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I recently received my copy of Volume 10 of Genshiken (aka Genshiken II Volume 1), and as anyone who’s read Genshiken in collected format knows, there are always little extras in between chapters. This time around it’s a combination of four-panel comics and profiles from the Genshiken club magazine Mebaetame, of which only one has been shown in-comic (Hato’s explicit one). The purpose of this post is just to jot down things I find interesting from those extras.

For the sake of convenience, here are all of my individual chapter reviews from Volume 10:

Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61

Ogiue’s Pen Name: Ever since it was first revealed, people had no idea how to actually say it. This time around though, Ogiue has given us a handy pronunciation guide, for which I am very grateful. So say it with me: OGINO NARUYUKI. Feels good, doesn’t it?

Majors: The coursework for the characters in Genshiken is something we’ve never learned much about, other than the fact that Kohsaka wasn’t in Computer Science but learned how to program anyway. Now though, we know that Ogiue is a 3rd-year Literature Major, Yajima is 1st-year Literature, and Hato is 1st-year Economics. The rest of them don’t bother mentioning it. I feel like knowing their majors gives some perspective on the whole thing in terms of seeing where the members are coming from, and it’s also interesting to compare to an American college anime club, where history and experience have taught me that a good chunk of them are indeed CS Majors.

Hometowns: For years we’ve known that Ogiue is from the Tohoku region of Japan, but nothing more specific than that. It turns out Ogiue is from Yamagata Prefecture, which of course means that she speaks specifically in the Yamagata dialect.

Yajima is from Tochigi Prefecture (Kanto) and Hato is from Niigata Prefecture (Hokuriku). Yoshitake doesn’t mention anything, and as we already know, Sue is from Massachusetts.

Yoshitake’s Ramblings: If you read my translation of Tamagomago’s post and got confused when he mentions Yoshitake talking about “oinking” (buhireru), it’s because it happens in Yoshitake’s profile, which is a long, long thing all about how she wants to see a manga or anime made out of a particular historical novel. This (and the huge word bubble in chapter 58) also makes it clear that Yoshitake is indeed a literary person.

Favorite Titles: Keep in mind that a lot of the titles are parodies of existing works. A lot of this is gotten with help from this site.

Ogiue: Haregan (Fullmetal Alchemist), Kujibiki Unbalance, Zenkoku no Kyojin (Shingeki no Kyojin [Advance of the Giants])

Yajima: Pakuman (Bakuman), Kintama (Gintama) , Ten Piece (One Piece), Menma (Naruto), Back-bared no Mago (Nurarihyon no Mago [Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan)

Hato: Duarara!! (Durarara!!), Rebuild of Evingelion, Hetalila (Hetalia), Winter Wars (Summer Wars), Fuyume Yuujinchou (Natsume Yuujinchou [Natsume’s Book of Friends]), Sweets Basket (Fruits Basket), Koi to Kyuuso (Unsure of even the pronunciation), Metro no Inu (Chikatetsu no Inu), Kaburagi-san to Rokuhara-kun (Hori-san to Miyamura-kun), Femto (Fate/Stay Night according to that site), Tsukutsukuboushi no Naku Koro ni (Higurashi no Naku Koro ni)

What we can see is that Yajima sticks mainly with Shounen Jump (or “Shounen Champ” as it’s called in-story) and also that Hato has very diverse tastes, but we knew that already.

Ogiue Likes Sasahara Just the Way He is: Just wanted to point out that in one comic, Ogiue thinks about how Ohno didn’t mention Sasahara among the “weirdos,” but that she likes his unassuming personality.