Child Empowerment as Commodity and 1980s American Cartoons

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The 1980s were a pivotal decade in American children’s television, when Ronald Reagan’s administration removed the rules against directly advertising to children. Things like He-Man, My Little Pony, and Thundercats are all a product of this barrier getting knocked down. There was a clear downside to this—it allowed greedy capitalist companies to have their way with young and impressionable minds—but I also distinctly remember loving the cartoons of the 80s (and 90s) because they felt like they spoke to me and my desires.

Compared to the even older cartoons of decades past that I’d see pop up on TV, there was so much more action. Characters from shows like Silverhawks, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Bionic Six just looked downright amazing in the mind’s eye of a young kid. I think what really stood out to me was the degree to which these shows felt like they understood what kids wanted, in contrast to programs that were concerned about what parents would think. Even with the requisite PSAs (e.g. GI Joe’s “Knowing Is Half the Battle”), what made these toy-centric cartoons feel so good was the irresponsibility. They allowed kids like me to live vicariously through them, with only the flimsiest of morals as pretext. Even today, their opening animations ooze such style and splendor that they represent the pinnacle of cool.

Of course, the reality is that what kids want isn’t necessarily what’s good for them, and companies were and are all too eager to exploit them for the sake of a bottom line. Children are not ignorant or imperceptive, but they’re also readily willing to eat ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Cartoons of the Reagan era definitely swung in that direction, and those who grew up on them and take their visual conventions and tropes for granted might not be aware how much their biases are influenced by this sustained marketing volley on our senses.

At the same time, shit was rad, and I’m glad I saw Rodimus Prime ask the Matrix of Leadership to “light our darkest hour.” How do you give kids that kind of empowerment without taking advantage of the plasticity of their minds?

I use the 80s as the main focus because of that prominent macho aesthetic, but what I’m also thinking about is the way getting attached to a specific era of animation can shape one’s perspective as to what is normal and interesting. Cartoons do not exist in a vacuum apart from the world at large, and both the creators and kids carry values that are often different in some way than their predecessors.

Ironically, diversity and championing civil rights is far more transgressive move than just letting kids imagine they could shoot lasers, but to those who grew up in the shadow of the 80s and 90s, the former can seem too much like the moralizing that made the previous decades’ cartoons feel boring.

The complaint that Disney doesn’t have “true bad guys” anymore also comes to mind. On some level, it makes sense: Evildoers like Jafar, Scar, Maleficent are iconic and bring a bit of an edge to the family-friendly works they come from. However, while these bad guys often possess a visceral darkness about them, the antagonistic forces of current Disney movies tackle more socially profound topics like generational trauma. The former chill the spine, while the latter bludgeon the gut, often feeling far more painful to those of us who can relate to the characters’ situations. But a certain type of person thinks it automatically worse if the villains aren’t, well, villainous. The lack of a clear-cut light vs. dark conflict can be disappointing to those who just want to see a foe vanquished.

I think all this is to say that sometimes it’s not just nostalgia that makes a period of art and entertainment feel special—there are actual differences influenced by the culture of the time and the people who contributed. But just because a period is special doesn’t mean it’s the be-all, end-all. We can find hot in the way 80s cartoons hit the mark aesthetically and inspired kids with that sense of cops-and-robbers awe, while also acknowledging that not everything was perfect. 

Killing Them Hard with Her Golf: “Birdie Wing: Golf Girls’ Story” Season 2

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I don’t know if there’s a wrong side of ridiculousness, but I definitely know that Birdie Wing: Golf Girls’ Story is squarely on the right one. And with the series now finished, I wanted to do a review of Season 2 to wrap everything up.

(Warning: Season 1 Spoilers)

The plot of the first season is like something from a fever dream: An orphan girl named Eve participates in her country Nafrece’s illegal underground golf scene, where big money is on the line. One day, she encounters a Japanese girl destined to become her rival/romantic interest Amawashi Aoi. In order to fulfill their dream of truly playing against each other someday, Eve has to overcome all the crime lords involved through the power of her brute force approach to golf. During this time, the list of things that happen include: a rocket launcher assassination, an airship with a transforming golf course inside, and even a cyborg golfer. Eventually, Eve winds up in Japan and attends the same school as Aoi, an academy for people with dreams of going pro.

At the end of Season 1, we were left with a question of what kind of series Birdie Wing will be overall. It has so many components that it could lean just a little in any direction and become something wildly different. Now that Season 2 is done and the series is complete (for now), we have the answer: Birdie Wing is all about Maximum Drama, and it will use every tool in its arsenal to achieve this goal. These include: a disease that kills you if you play too much golf, convoluted family trees that boggle the mind, and special abilities passed down from mentors and long-lost figures from the past. What we have is not so much a sports anime or a drama, but a series that asks, “What if a soap opera had tournament arcs?”

I will give one small spoiler about Season 2: My prediction about them going into space to play golf never came true, despite the fact that “Amuro Ray” and “Char Aznable” essentially both exist in this anime. Nevertheless, it’s an enjoyable roller coaster all the way through, and how the series ends is actually brilliant in its own way. While I’m not going to say that Birdie Wing is perfect, or that it’s for everyone, I do believe that we need more anime of its kind in the world. 

Putting the “Origin” in Original: Shin Kamen Rider

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When it comes to Anno Hideaki’s Shin Japan Heroes Universe movies, the meaning of that first word, Shin, is left ambiguous. Usually, depending on how it’s written in Japanese, shin can either mean “true” (as if whatever iteration we’re seeing is either an entity in its greatest and purest form) or “new” (a reimagining, a version yet unseen). After watching Shin Kamen Rider, it’s increasingly clear to me that it’s meant to be both, and maybe more.

Based primarily on the original 1971 Kamen RIder series, Shin Kamen Rider tells the story of Hongo Takeshi, a man captured by the organization SHOCKER and made into a part-bug living weapon. However, thanks to a sympathetic scientist, he manages to escape and he decides to fight against SHOCKER using his newfound powers and his strong sense of justice.

Seeing as how I’ve never even watched a single full series, I can’t call myself a big Kamen Rider fan or expert by any means. But when Shin Kamen Rider was first announced, I remembered something Anno said in an interview: He thinks the world of the first three episodes of the original Kamen Rider due to their darker nature. I also have seen comments about how Shin Kamen Rider is unusually violent, which lends credence to the notion that this would somehow be different.

Shin Kamen Rider turns out to be even bloodier than I had expected, even with the aforementioned warning. It is brutal and visceral in a way that none of the other Shin movies are. That’s not to say the work is overly gratuitous—but rather, it’s one of many factors that make the story very human and personal. On some level, this is probably just due to the fact that Evangelion, Ultraman, and Godzilla all concern giants, giving an inherently different sense of scale. 

But even more than the violence, Shin Kamen Rider feels like it’s trying to be something that the word “fundamental” doesn’t fully describe—as if the work is tapping into the essence of its source material so deeply that it ends up bringing forth a version from within that had not seen the light of day prior to this. What we see is a Kamen Rider if the series had continued on with the energy from those earliest episodes that Anno cherishes so much.

I watched Shin Ultraman not long before this, and there are some noteworthy differences that I think speak a lot to what each franchise embodies. For example, the monsters in Shin Ultraman appear to be much more essential—who and what they are doesn’t stray far from the source material. All the monsters in Shin Kamen Rider, on the other hand, are portrayed with much greater liberties in terms of motivations. In contrast, the main human character in Shin Ultraman is a completely different person compared to the original TV series, whereas Shin Kamen Rider still maintains the character of Hongo Takeshi, even if he isn’t 100% the same. Ultraman has more memorable monsters; Kamen Rider has more memorable humans.

To skeptics, Shin Kamen Rider would very likely come across as hokey in a way that no amount of ultra-violence could make it more palatable. However, the portrayals of its characters, from their emotional pain to their sheer awkwardness really grounds the film. I think it’s no coincidence that the costumes for Shin Kamen Rider are actually pretty cheesy—the production could have easily made them sleeker and more modern. Instead, they’re weird and cumbersome, as if the bit of messiness is important. Shin Kamen Rider is, at its core, a work that is both “cool” and “uncool,” and the two sides merge together to reveal something incredibly human.

Gattai Girls 14: “Sakura Wars” and Shinguji Sakura

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Introduction: “Gattai Girls” is a series of posts dedicated to looking at giant robot anime featuring prominent female characters due to their relative rarity within that genre.

Here, “prominent” is primarily defined by two traits. First, the female character has to be either a main character (as opposed to a sidekick or support character), or she has to be in a role which distinguishes her. Second, the female character has to actually pilot a giant robot, preferably the main giant robot of the series she’s in.

For example, Aim for the Top! would qualify because of Noriko (main character, pilots the most important mecha of her show), while Vision of Escaflowne would not, because Hitomi does not engage in any combat despite being a main character, nor would Full Metal Panic! because the most prominent robot pilot, Melissa Mao, is not prominent enough.

— 

This is an unusual “Gattai Girls” entry. Sakura Wars is one of Sega’s most beloved video game franchises in Japan, and doing a review/analysis of it based on an animated TV adaptation will inevitably mean I can’t fully capture everything that makes the series what it is. Nevertheless, we have a solid example of an anime that fulfills the criteria of a mecha series with a centrally prominent female pilot, so here we are. As far as I know, the TV series follows much of the same plot, but there are some cases where major events (such as a certain heel turn) do not play out as they did in the game.

Sakura Wars takes place in an alternate Taisho-era mystical-steampunk Japan where people and technology thrive, but where horrible demonic forces also threaten the peace. The only people capable of fighting them on relatively even terms are the members of the Imperial Combat Revue: a group of girls who have the dual roles of being performers in musicals in the vein of the Takarazuka Revue and fighting as pilots of special spiritually powered mecha known as Kobu. 

One of the points of appeal of Sakura Wars is that these girls are all interesting and memorable characters, but the face of the franchise is undoubtedly its namesake, Shinguji Sakura. To understand her general popularity, one need only look at Sega’s 60th anniversary popularity poll wherein Sakura got 3rd place behind only Sonic the Hedgehog and Opa-Opa from Fantasy Zone. What makes her so appealing is that she’s essentially the ultimate yamato-nadeshiko—the classical Japanese beauty—but without being a regressive character bound by conservatism.

(SIde note: While I acknowledge that the series is full of excellent female characters, the focus will be on Sakura as the main heroine).

When Sakura first arrives to join the Combat Revue in Tokyo, she’s like a fish out of water. Clad in a kimono, everything about her screams “traditional.” However, this is the Taisho era, a time of increasing embrace of certain Western values (such as marrying for romantic love). Much of Sakura’s growth over the series involves adapting to the cosmopolitan nature of her new environment and her teammates—allies who come from different parts of Japan and the world, and who hold different values—all the while still honing the swordsmanship and spiritual energy that has made her a recruit for the Combat Revue in the first place. 

I don’t often devote space to discussing the voices behind the characters in these “Gattai Girls” entries, but I have to make a special exception here because Yokoyama Chisa is simply exceptional. Her voice carries such a range of emotions, from strength to vulnerability, from joy to sorrow, sometimes all at the same time. She’s the main singer in the Sakura Wars opening for this anime (as well as many of the games), and it really does feel like Shinguji Sakura is bringing the song to life. 

I understand that romance is actually a significant part of the Sakura Wars games, as the player usually takes the role of a male captain who’s in charge of the squad. In the case of the earliest games and related media, that would be Ogami Ichiro, and I believe Ogami and Sakura are the most popular pairing. However, romance isn’t really a huge factor in the anime, and much of the story is focused on Sakura and the others developing bonds that help them to grow as people and warriors, as well as unraveling the secrets of the demons that are plaguing Japan. In this regard, Sakura is shown to possess immense inner strength, focus, and courage, all of which end up translating to becoming a great Kobu pilot over time. 

The Kobu themselves look fantastic, their round shapes and steam valves capturing the setting’s aesthetic better than anything else. They’re distinctive, and their unisex designs means that no specific attention is drawn to the Kobu being piloted primarily by girls. Every character fights in their mecha with weapons similar to what they’d use on foot, and Sakura’s is a single katana. The power, will, and resolve to defend the innocent is actually part of Sakura’s appeal as a yamato-nadeshiko, but this is again presented less as a facet of an ossified woman and more an anchor she can use for stability when she needs it.

Shinguji Sakura is the kind of female protagonist who is often imitated but never duplicated. To be able to embody seemingly contradictory values of progress and tradition while truly betraying neither is a juggling act that can fall apart all too easily. She’s the surest sign that just because a character falls under a dominant archetype doesn’t mean they have to be boring or bland.

Have You Heard of the Latest Craze? It’s Called “The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild.”

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I’m five years late to the party. As others started playing The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, I decided to dust off my barely touched Breath of the Wild with the goal of freeing the Divine Beasts and taking down Calamity Ganon. I wouldn’t be going in totally ignorant (I’d seen others both play and beat it), but I still had to contend with my own poor sense of direction. And so here I am now, on the other side of glorious victory, here to detail my thoughts on a game everybody has already played.

I’m not the most hardcore Zelda fan. I have a history with the games—including playing the original NES game, Link to the Past, and Ocarina of Time—but I never really touched 21st-century Zelda. I know there have been various debates about whether the post-Wind Waker games have been too linear and uncreative, and that having Breath of the Wild arrive in this context was like a bolt of lightning. This open world game ends up being situated in an interesting place in the Zelda series, not only because it had never been done before, but because it both harkens back to and defies its predecessors. The free exploration feels a lot like classic Legend of Zelda, but the open-ended solutions for puzzles hits differently compared to earning a Hookshot and utilizing it throughout a dungeon designed around it.

I think my experience with BotW can best be encapsulated by the fact that my greatest challenges and frustrations were at the beginning of the game. As mentioned, I am directionally challenged, and throwing me into the middle of nowhere without many visual markers is a sure sign for me to never get a sense of my bearings. I was probably stuck up on the game’s first area, a low-stakes plateau, for far longer than I probably should have been. Still, once I managed to actually get stuff done, the game opened up to me, and I started to have a lot more fun.

There’s something very satisfying about just discovering stuff as you go on little detours, or looking at the map and seeing something really odd out on the edges of the land—“Is that a maze?!” The game rewards you for being curious, though you may get skill-checked by the nearby monsters. It’s one thing to be able to assess the strength of enemies, but when you have to factor in that your weapons and equipment can shatter and leave you defenseless, you really have to decide if trying to go somewhere is worth it. I often stubbornly decided it was, and would end up either killed or hanging on by the skin of my teeth. Did I have to fight that first Lynel? No—the game even explicitly says you don’t need to—but I wanted to try, and I was willing to lose 80% of my weapons to do so. It’s a funny feeling to look at your rewards against what you lost to get them. 

Combat is a major part of BotW, as enemies are a frequent sight, and bosses require you to at least be able to function. I’m of two minds about the fact that the game gives you so many tools for one-on-one situations but then frequently pits you against many—I like that they don’t just wait kindly like in Ocarina of Time, but it is annoying nevertheless. I would also often wonder if maybe I was too powerful for an area with the equipment I had; I wanted to test my skills but it might have just been a matter of brute force. At the same time, I also didn’t necessarily want to be facing challenges masochistically underequipped. I understand that any powerful items I possessed were thanks to my own exploration, so it’s not like anything was unearned, but I still would have liked a better sense of where I stood in terms of mechanics mastery.

Overall, though, it was a very satisfying experience to play through Breath of the Wild. I’ve heard that Tears of the Kingdom is just a straight-up improvement in every way, which I’m looking forward to trying out sooner rather than later. I actually find it fascinating that TotK is such a direct upgrade, as that has never really happened in the history of Zelda. I’m curious to see how people assess BotW vs. TotK in terms of greatness: What do you value more, the pioneer or the refiner?

A Heroic Endeavor: Shin Ultraman

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If you ever talk to fans of episodic, monster-of-the-week shows, a common refrain is that inevitably not all episodes are winners, but that there is also a flipside: Often, some stories are so good and memorable that they elevate the work as a whole. Whether it’s a particularly poignant moment, an interesting monster, a surprising level of maturity, or even a contribution to the greater overarching plot, there are times when that otherwise simple kids show rises to the occasion. Following this thought, a question often arises. What if all the “excess” was cut out, and you were left with all killer, no filler? 

Shin Ultraman is a film that embodies such an idea. A kind of homage/return-to-roots/reboot all in one, it tells the tale of the original Ultraman TV series in a modern setting. The premise sees Japan invaded by powerful monsters that necessitates the creation of a specialized task force to fend them off. Just as the monsters start to be too much, however, a mysterious giant warrior (later named Ultraman) arrives to help. What ensues is a look at how humanity interacts with Ultraman and vice versa as greater threats emerge, leading to questions about the essential elements of the people of Earth. The film highlights the essence of this classic tokusatsu hero by compressing an entire TV series into an almost two-hour experience—or at least it comes across that way.

My exposure to the Ultraman franchise is sparse at best. While a young me did wake up early every weekend to watch the English-original Ultraman: Towards the Future, much of what I know is though (sub) cultural osmosis and Ultraman’s proximity to anime and manga. Of particular significance to me is the fact that it’s a huge influence on Evangelion—not only does Eva feature similarly giant light-based heroes with time limits, but the director Anno Hideaki is also responsible for Shin Ultraman as part of a pattern of uniting various Japanese pop culture staples (see Shin Godzilla, Shin Kamen Rider, and indeed Shin Evangelion). In the hands of other creators, I might have greater skepticism, but having Anno at the helm at least piqued my curiosity from the start in a way that has since been rewarded.

The fact that there is no established antagonist might make the film seem strange to those who are used to more conventional feature-length storytelling, but I found myself enjoying the range of foes in Shin Ultraman. The basic progression is that every adversary presents an escalating challenge, starting with tougher and tougher monsters that pose increasingly dire threats before making way for dangers that seek to exploit the flaws of humankind: fear, greed, mistrust, and so on. Ultraman is also similarly alien to humanity, but contrasts with the invaders as he gravitates towards and cherishes humanity’s positive qualities, e.g. trust, cooperation, and curiosity. 

Because I’m not an Ultraman fan, there are many references I simply could not catch on the first viewing. Sure, I know about things like Zetton, the monster that ranks as arguably the most iconic final boss in all of tokusatsu, but not much more than that. But when I did read up, I further realized what a love letter Shin Ultraman is. For example, at the very beginning, a brief history of various monsters are shown, all of which are successfully dealt with by humans. I found this curious because normally the monsters in a work like this are simply too much—that’s why you need Ultraman. It turns out that all of these initial monsters are originally from the predecessor to Ultraman, a TV series named Ultra Q. There, it’s about the people of Earth dealing with phenomena, with no alien giants to help. The fact that Shin Ultraman makes this reference to Ultra Q while also using it to establish both the world of the film and the general competence of the human task force is very clever in hindsight.

Without knowing its source material well, I can tell that Shin Ultraman seeks to both bring out and then distill the very core of Ultraman. In that sense, there are many things that could have been done to make it a “better” or “more cohesive” film, but I also think doing so could very well have blunted the effect of Shin Ultraman as a work that tries to capture the essence of a childhood icon and remind everyone of its inherent relevance. Shin Ultraman is both rooted in nostalgia and timeless in its message: There is light in humanity.

Hololive’s ReGLOSS Features Refreshingly Simple Character Designs

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Hololive just announced a new group of Virtual Youtubers, collectively called ReGLOSS. Ever since the Hololive Splash Party concert at the end of August, there have been numerous teasers for something called “hololive DEV_IS,” and these new members seem to be the first project under that banner. Now we have both their appearances and a debut music video, one thing that stands out to me: The girls of ReGLOSS have surprisingly clean character designs.

Most VTuber designs take what I’ve referred to as a “maximalist” approach. Typically, a Virtual Youtuber wants their essence to be easily identifiable at a glance, and so most will have things like wild hairdos, horns, animal ears, and complex outfits on display. The most recent Hololive English generation, Advent, features all these attributes and more. While there are exceptions, this is the general trend.

In comparison, the ReGLOSS designs are actually quite subdued. Sure, they’re still pretty flashy, but they’re somewhat less elaborate than even typical IRL human idol or Kpop fare. The fact that all five members’ outfits are coordinated with one another is new and different—rarely have generations looked this cohesive. (And if anything, they kinda look like they stepped out of the anime RahXephon.)

As for why Hololive has decided to go this angle, I wonder if it’s because they seem poised to be a music group first and foremost, and there isn’t as much of a need to go big with the designs. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that another major Hololive singer, AZKi, has herself gotten more elegant redesigns over time. That said, I’d be shocked if they didn’t stream at least a decent amount, as that connection with the fans has been a boon to the followings of all the various musicians in Hololive.

For now, I’m pleasantly surprised. While I appreciate plenty of VTubers with maximalist designs (including Advent), I have wondered if that “arms race” has gone a bit overboard. If ReGLOSS finds success, maybe we’ll see a turn back to simpler and more refined aesthetics (if we ever really had them at all).

PS: While it’s somewhat futile to speculate about what they’re really like, Hololive seems to be very aware of this, and has created an image and hashtag for fans to predict what they’re like. So I figured, why not join in on the fun?

PPS: Hololive has also revealed their casual outfits. Though they no longer match, I think everything I said about their designs still stands—even Raden’s.

Boy Meets Girl Meets Tick-Throw Spinning Piledriver: Hi Score Girl

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I’m happy and grateful that the full Hi Score Girl manga series by Otoi Rekomaru is out in English. It’s one of those manga where, once upon a time, a US release would have been a pipe dream. A nostalgic nerd love story premised around Street Fighter II and the 90s Japan arcade scene? As significant as that era was in Japanese gaming history, it’s a niche among niches. And yet, here we are.

I first discovered the series eight years ago, and was immediately won over by two things. First, there was the eccentric nature of its main duo: the obnoxiously loud gamer kid Haruo and his friend/rival/love interest, the reticent and rampaging Akira. They initially meet at an arcade and feud over a Guile vs. Zangief matchup, and though they never stop butting heads, it’s silly and sweet how they essentially communicate through gaming. That’s not metaphorical either; Akira pretty much never talks. Second, the portrayal of the 90s games and the way Haruo based his very outlook on life on them could have only come from a genuine place. Otherwise, jokes like “messing up the secret select code for Akuma” and “Akira having sympathy for big grappler characters because she feels bad about how little they get chosen” wouldn’t land so well.

The characters age over the course of the 11 volumes, going from elementary to high school and growing alongside the rapid developments in gaming technology. Their transition into adulthood is concurrent with continuous upgrades to Street Fighter II, the advent of 3D fighting games like Virtua Fighter, and so on. A nice narrative device to be sure, but it’s actually surprising seeing how much Haruo actually matures as he comes to understand responsibility in his own way. He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but his convictions are real.

Hi Score Girl reminds me a lot of one of my all-time favorites, 81 Diver. The art is similarly rough, and the core relationship is as much a rivalry as it is a love story (if not moreso). That’s actually pretty rare in manga focused on het romance, and is usually the domain of fujoshi-adjacent works. But it’s convincing here because of how Otoi portrays the genuine desire for connection, and the way that gap is bridged through gaming. Sure, the premise of a boy meeting an ultra rich mega gamer girl is unrealistic in many ways, but the portrayal makes me want to believe in their love.

In addition to the authenticity of the passion for fighting games, I think what ultimately makes Hi Score Girl work is that while Haruo kind of exists primarily in his gaming-obsessed mental space, the life lessons he draws from games are ultimately his own. He’s a guy with an imaginary friend who gives him pep talks and acts as his conscience, and that friend is often just Guile. Haruo and Akira imbue greater meaning into games, and the games reciprocate by providing them the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat, the comfort of friendship, and the joy of love.

Pros of Con Reporting: Ogiue Maniax Status Update for September 2023

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I don’t know if it’s the record heat waves or just the sheer amount of things going in life, but the summer has felt incredibly long. But now that it’s the final stretch, I’m sure I’ll be missing it soon enough.

During this time, I also managed to watch both Shin Ultraman and Shin Kamen Rider, so expect some reviews of those sooner than later. In the meantime, I’d also like to mourn the loss of gfycat, which provided many a useful moving record for both mirth and study. I didn’t use the site much for Ogiue Maniax, but I have been updating a few posts here and there.

September Patreon subscribers! Thank you to the following—

General:

Ko Ransom

Diogo Prado

Alex

Dsy

Sue Hopkins fans:

Serxeid

Hato Kenjirou fans:

Elizabeth

Yajima Mirei fans:

Machi-Kurada

Blog highlights from August:

Tomoyo…The Time Has Come to Demonstrate Our Power: Otakon 2023

My full review of Otakon 2023, including links to interviews.

The Haachama Experiment

A birthday celebration of the Worldwide Strongest Idol as she continues to recover from her illness.

The Advent of Pitch Accent: Pronouncing FuwaMoco’s Names Correctly

A post about the new Hololive dog twins and their preferred name pronunciations.

Kio Shimoku

Kio mostly talks about Elden Ring, but also, check out that high-resolution Ogiue art!

Closing

I watched the Hololive Summer 2023 concert, and it was a blast. There were some issues with the viewing platform that ended up with the entire Day 1 concert being streamed for free on Youtube for the next month, and I’m thankful for that because it meant being able to easily watch Holotori strut their stuff over and over. The fact that Day 2 has holoX’s performance of their new song, “Labyrinthine Labyrinth,” as part of the free preview makes me feel like I won a small lottery again. I also highly recommend checking out the last song in the Day 2 preview, especially those who love 80s anime.

And now Hololive Myth 3rd Anniversary is coming up! It’s amazing to reflect on how much time has passed, and how directly it’s tied to the COVID-19 pandemic. No, I will never forget about that.

Kio Shimoku Twitter Highlights August 2023

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This month, ​​Kio mostly talks about Elden Ring. But we also get to see a high-quality version of one of the best covers he ever drew (no bias from me, clearly).

Kio thinks the Crucible Knight’s tail in Elden Ring is cute.

After 77 hours, Kio finally got through Limgrave.

Two new web chapters of Spotted Flower.

Even after 100 hours, Kio is having trouble in Elden Ring. In many places, he feels that he would never have been able to figure things out without strategy guides. (Forgive me for not translating this in greater detail.)

Kio keeps seeing figures and illustrations from Elden Ring but for the most part has no idea who anyone is, seeing as he’s only played 16% of the game.

Reflecting on his time with a much older FromSoftware game, King’s Field II, Kio recalls his experience. Despite the fact that it wasn’t really “open world,” finding out how one area of the game connects to another was very exciting.

King’s Field III was like a road trip movie, in a good way. He got discouraged because of the Shadow Tower, and couldn’t finish it, though.

Kio doesn’t remember the reveal about the main character and lead female character in King’s Field III.

Kio declares his interim report on Elden Ring over for now.

Someone recreated the bouncing-boobs Ohno mini bust that came with a volume of Monthly Afternoon back in the day.

Kio makes a reference to the game Great Adventure: The Miracle of Saint Elmos: “This is awful.”

Kio has been playing Elden Ring offline, which may have impacted his enjoyment of the game.

He really enjoyed the anime adaptation of Toriyama Akira’s Sand Land. He likes how it brings back a Dr. Slump feel.

https://twitter.com/kioshimoku1/status/1694729675803897987

Visiting the AKIRA cel and animation gallery.

https://twitter.com/kioshimoku1/status/1694984523736653864

Some modeling magazine purchases alongside Armored Core 6.

There was a remix of AKIRA music playing at the gallery, and Kio wondered where it came from. Turns out that it was new arrangements done for the gallery. Kio wants a CD of it.

https://twitter.com/kioshimoku1/status/1695447270777651434
https://twitter.com/kioshimoku1/status/1695641211636482466

High-quality version of the cover to Genshiken Volume 6, as well as just the art of Ogiue. Needless to say, I love this cover and volume to death. Also check the thread to see lots of people posting their copies (and variations).