Taken by itself, the image of Kanzaki Shizuku contemplating the color of the wine embodies the dramatic. It’s a simple and benign act made into an action shot. A huge splash of white showcases the glass of wine by erasing everything around it, save Shizuku's hand. The line formed by the accentuation of the glass and Shizuku’s hand continues through his arm and links the reader's eye to a strong white line a little further downward. Thus the reader's line of sight is redirected to the raised glass, implying swift motion. The reaction shot in the following image compounds on the effect of this action. The angle and position of Shizuku's bent arm points to the next panel of an astounded Watanuki Suzuka, who looks on in slack-jawed amazement (note the superfluous "!" surrounded by naught but white in a word bubble). All this implied action and disproportionate accentuation lends to the manga's sweet, humorous irony. Drinking wine, after all, is never that exciting to watch. However, Drops of God is illustrated as to infuse action where there is none, thereby creating a compelling read out of an everyday act as simple as observation. 

Episode 2: Mysterious Bond

Ink: Even after a month of going out, Tsubaki and Urabe have not done anything physical aside from their daily unidirectional saliva-dosing ritual. This episode is all about Tsubaki attempting to break that rut. Since even holding hands seems irrelevant to Urabe, Tsubaki seeks advice by questioning his friend, Ueno, and consequently ends up asking Urabe about her hobbies. In answer, she produces scissors from on her person and demonstrates a unique skill. This does not lead to any physical intimacy. Urabe does, however, end up inadvertently flashing her underwear in front of Tsubaki and later sanctions the appropriateness of said glimpse. In the following days, a spontaneous hug from Tsubaki draws a furious reaction from Urabe, Tsubaki confronts Urabe about not acting like a couple, and Urabe proves her feelings by putting Tsubaki through an intimate test of trust. Tsubaki’s passing performance is rewarded with confirmation of his bond to Urabe via her specially conjured, emotionally conductive drool. Later, Urabe swipes a finger of drool from Tsubaki’s mouth and steals a dream he was withholding from her, revealing spit as a two-way river that conveys emotion and images — exact images, unfortunately for Tsubaki — between both parties.

Phillip: This episode is interesting for me because of the frustration Tsubaki feels at going so slow with Urabe. It reminds me of The Longest Time in that Tsubaki is prepared to “wait” after he passes the aforementioned trust test. That is an interesting scene to view from an outsider's perspective. And wherever this relationship goes, we at least know that Urabe places a lot of trust in him and Tsubaki isn't the type to abuse that trust. The dream Tsubaki “shares” with Urabe also demonstrate the great sorting house that is the mind. Tsubaki can’t articulate his feeling that the relationship seems to be going nowhere, but through the metaphoric connection with the drool Urabe understands Tsubaki better and puts his mind at rest.

Episode 3: Mysterious Test Tube

Phillip: Tsubaki witnesses his friend Ueno kissing Oka, a girl in their class. This triggers a reaction in Tsubaki: he too wants to kiss his girlfriend. I mean, it’s only natural. But Urabe’s reply is to give Tsubaki a test tube with her saliva in it. He goes home, tastes it and then has a dream where he decides after Urabe sneaks a kiss from him that they should wait until they are emotionally connected. Is this Urabe subconsciously trying to show Tsubaki her way of thinking? It would be interesting and would lend credence to the idea that Urabe is the one dictating the pace of the relationship. But while Tsubaki is worrying about kisses and such, Urabe has to decide whether or not she should accept Ogata’s request to go out with him. In this we see what I can only imagine is a reference to periods, with Urabe telling Tsubaki that she wanted to wait a day to answer Ogata since she could have an “abnormal reaction.” If there were no reaction from Ogata, he would not and could not ever connect with Urabe. This goes back to Tsubaki’s dream reference to emotionally connecting. I don’t want to step into an area I know little about, but it seems to state that girls only go out with guys they know are compatible with them (Urabe and Tsubaki), while guys go out with girls they think will be compatible with them (Ogata and Urabe). Weird dreams are nowhere to be seen in this episode, but it’s relatable to see Tsubaki worry about not being “worthy” enough to date Urabe. But in the end, like most blokes who stay true to their girl, he really doesn’t have anything to worry about.

Ink: I’ll wholeheartedly agree about how natural the need to compare one’s own romantic “progress” to that of your close friends. This naturalness is also represented in the bashful way Ueno and Oka keep themselves a secret. Tsubaki and Urabe are keeping the same secret, but there’s a little less of a bashful sense of it than there is one of unknowing tinged with that inescapable sense of shame that comes from outgrowing one’s youth and desiring what one once thought of as disgusting. Isn’t that what this series is all about, trying to make the unfamiliar and disgusting somewhat appealing? With this episode, especially via the titular mysterious test tube and its mixed tidings as first kiss and passive-aggressive admonishment of the same, the series does an excellent job of getting into the bewildered mindset of a newly sexually awakened youth (in this case, one that longs for a simple kiss against time which seems an eternity).

Episode 4: Mysterious Girl Meets Girl

Ink: This episode reminds me of Marie Howe’s, “Practicing.” Oka decides to befriend Urabe via the lure of home cooking (handfed nonetheless) after casually coming upon hers and Tsubaki’s afterschool spit swapping ritual. The pair of females unwittingly (at first) hold an experiment in the privacy of a dark, deserted nurse’s office via a shared bottle of soda. Urabe doesn’t entertain the notion that her own drool can affect another girl, so sharing a drink with Oka doesn’t pose any cause for caution. The consequences, however, reveal a deeper connection between the two girls that manifests in two ways: Urabe develops a taste for Oka’s cooking, mentioning at one point that her “body rhythm changed,” and it is revealed that not only can Urabe’s spit transfer emotions and mental images but physical wounds as well (skinned knee from a track accident and self-inflicted cut on her hand). Though both girls have boyfriends, they’re very interested in the bond itself and experimenting with it. The magic realism, already offered via transfer of emotions, thoughts, and dreams, gets a welcome physical manifestation, but this whole episode seems an excuse to fettishize the drool exchange by exploiting such themes as lesbianism, cutting, and cosplay (gym clothes).

Phillip: There’s an element of voyeurism to Oka observing Tsubaki and Urabe and not saying anything. I’m not saying that it doesn’t contain themes as mentioned above, but for me the most interesting angle is that Oka could blab to the whole school about Urabe and Tsubaki, but she doesn’t. She wants to keep Urabe’s “uniqueness” to herself. Why does she want to talk with Urabe alone? She says it was because she didn’t want to cause trouble for Tsubaki by approaching him but still, she completely focuses on Urabe. And in the nurse’s office, she drinks cider, an alcoholic drink traditionally, which would lower her inhibitions. What the hell is that scene about? Personally, the mix of two girls, booze and secrets makes it more confessional in nature than anything else, in my mind. Urabe needs Oka to be more human as it were, and Oka with her weird voyeur tendencies needs Urabe to be normal. If you can believe that.

Episode 5: Mysterious First Date

Phillip: After seeing Urabe in her swimsuit in school, Tsubaki decides to invite Urabe to the beach because on a unconscious level he wants to see her on his own in a swimsuit. But like most guys in a relationship, he gets more than he bargained for when, after waiting weeks for the chance to see her, they go to the beach with her sporting a tan after spending time with her family (who curiously we don’t meet or see) and him wanting to see what her whole body looks like. Now most other shows would have him wanting a peek at her undressing, but they don’t do that. Instead we see her untying her bikini skirt to reveal her wearing bikini ends and a tan line where her panty scissors should be. Also, I can’t help but feel the shows producers and writers are trying to show Tsubaki is a good kid, because early on in the episode, the guys are practising goals in school with the teacher but deliberately kicking the ball over the hedge so they can peek at the girls practising swimming. Tsubaki is the one to try and check out Urabe but when he sees her through the hedge he slips and doesn’t kick the ball. Is that Tsubaki self-sabotaging his “shot” at Urabe? It stands to reason, in his mind at least, he doesn’t need to do that because his relationship with Urabe is his and his alone. And before you ask, Ueno sneaks a peek at Oka, so it’s not about Tsubaki having a girlfriend that he doesn’t do it.

Ink: The approach used to introduce the poolside peeping at the beginning was impressively subtle for such a brazen show; winks and smiles, no-one in gym being able to properly kick a soccer ball/football, and the earnestly delivered compliments (instead of jeers) for such, all let viewers know something is not what it appears to be. Unlike Phillip, I’d argue that the only thing sabotaging Tsubaki’s shot at Urabe here is his respect for her, which is genuinely nice to see. Tsubaki’s embarrassment at spying Urabe through the trees, when they lock eyes for a moment, throws Tsubaki off, causing him to miss the ball. I’d like to think his botched peep was a combination of that unspoken warning from Urabe and an inner voice that realized the truth behind her glance. Aside from a couple really well-written and timed jokes towards its end, I think the episode falls apart from there. Don’t let Philip mislead you. Although Tsubaki indeed does not try to catch Urabe undressing, he does swim underwater to watch her body very closely ... only to be saved by a horribly flimsy excuse and an overly accommodating Urabe. Or is that a very forward hint?

Mysterious Girlfriend X is now streaming on Crunchyroll.

Like an ant can lift, Conker can drink 10 times his weight in beer. Unlike an ant, Conker will soon be staggering about and puking every few paces after he downs that final glass or chugs the keg dry. Though to be fair, I’ve never seen a post-work ant (lies). So why tolerate this lightweight? Well, once Conker’s starts imbibing, he’s not gonna stop. In the immediate, this is a good thing. Conker can be convinced to buy rounds when it’s not his turn, and he is an animated conversationalist, with a wry sense of humour to boot. Even when things go sloppy and Mr. The Squirrel opens up his shorts to relieve his bladder from all that beer (despite the presence of company or lack thereof), Conker can keep his drinkin’ buddies safe from fire imps and rock monsters by turning all that ingested yellow liquid into ... pressurized yellow liquid. So why welcome him back to your table? Didn’t I just mention he can save you from fire imps ... with his pee?! The squirrel spites his liver ... for you, and you don’t appreciate him? Sheesh.

Well, consider this: all that drinking costs. To replenish that cash (and with it, memories and time) of which he's been duped, Conker will need to earn some dough. Being menaced by an operatic mountain of poo? All conker needs is a gas mask and his trusty B button. Have a dinosaur that needs to be hatched? Sacrificed? Either way, Conker needs the cash just enough to get it done. Vampire bat needs feeding? Conker’s in the know! Hornets made off with your bee hive (yet) again? Conker’s willing to infiltrate THEIR hive to get it back for you! Nazi teddy bears want to be Nazi teddy bears? %@*& that ^#$&! Conker'll show ‘em what-for! So use him. Abuse him. So long as he has a weakness for beer and a need for cash, Conker will be the one living adventure after adventure, racking up stories to slur while wearing the crown at the bar of great drinkers. 

Friday

Saturday

Based on a novel by Yukito Ayatsuji, Another focuses on Yomiyama North Junior High ninth grade’s class 3. Kōichi Sakakibara, the male lead, transfers in from Tokyo, but even before he can step inside the school, he suffers a collapsed lung that puts him in the local hospital. A seemingly well-meaning bunch of representatives from class 3 visit Kōichi, but there’s something in the air that makes the gathering feel more like an investigation than a welcoming committee. For the first half of this 12-episode series, Kōichi tries to ascertain the reason behind his classmates’ enigmatic avoidance of certain subjects and specific people. The remaining episodes feature Kōichi trying to figure out a way to stop the rash of mysterious deaths plaguing class 3 without becoming one of the victims himself. 

From its onset, Another frames its female lead, Mei Misaki, a student with an eye patch who lives above a creepy doll museum/shop, as an ambiguous entity. She appears and disappears at will and without warning, and no-one seems to see her ... except Kōichi. Mei could be a ghost or the walking spirit of a hollow doll or just another ninth grade student. The series is written and directed frustratingly well in that regard, so well that I almost threw something at my computer screen when the series decided to show its cards in episode five. Thereafter, the lack of ambiguity is certainly disappointing, but luckily the series has a lot more to offer to maintain viewership. Let’s start with the bloodlust.

As I mentioned earlier, there are a string of deaths at Yomi North. None of the initial incidents are malicious. Instead, each is set off in a manner reminiscent of Final Destination. Some deaths are masterfully foreshadowed, and some serve as ambient sucker-punches. Regardless, the series spares no effort and pulls no punches in delivering a mix of off- and on-screen misfortune in beautifully choreographed, horrific detail, making the tragedies, for the most part, 100% believable. But gore can get tiresome when put into heavy rotation, especially when the causes are random accidents. There needs to be motive, and here’s where Another’s linear plot turns from disappointing to exhilarating. Something is found. Information is revealed to a select few. But once the information is leaked, Another’s epic climax, comprising acts both emotionally twisted and disturbingly violent, carries interest through to the bitter end. As gruesome as the death scenes are, Another’s real power lies in its imagery ... and I’m not just talking about the superfluously interjected shots of creepy dolls.

The portrayal of empty moments via scenery would make a Romantic weep. For instance: a door methodically sliding opening to expose the hollow guts of an elevator that's just arrived to the vacant hallways of the basement floor, on which the only room that has bodies in it is the morgue. The art is all about isolation and diminishing the presence of the individual, or in some cases humanity itself, to make it feel stranded and helpless. To his effect, the scenery is rendered such that it usually dwarfs the characters. Lush landscapes and detailed backgrounds (oh my god the textures!) are deliberate in setting this mood. Water-stained walls, paint-stripped wood with scrapes and obvious wear, and rusted metal surfaces create a realistic world that’s lost the attention of its inhabitants and fallen into decay. And while the persistence of setting may be overwhelming, it is none-the-less striking when considering its relation to the story. In fact, backgrounds are so wonderfully rendered that the characters feel superimposed by comparison. Often I found myself sighing whenever characters would return as the main visual focus (often when involved in close discussion).

The character designs feel a little too clean or bright compared to their surroundings, almost as if they have not interacted with the darkness at all or are completely repelled by it. Each student is very distinguishable, which is a feat considering how many average-looking students are in class 3, although most are 2-D and forgettable (which is forgivable given their cannon fodder nature). One of the more distinguishable secondary characters, Izumi Akazawa, seems to be drawn to ooze tsundere, but her role is written such that her appearance is surprisingly the only 2-D thing about her character. Mei’s character, however, is a rather big disappointment. Her personality can seem painted on at random, changing from pensive or sullen to mischievous to almost flirtatious without actually fitting the scene. Of course this jarring effect does make the character seem a little more out of sync with her classmates, which sometimes lends to the  overall ambient effect of the series.

Short and maliciously sweet at 12 episodes, Another is worth the time investment. Pacing helps. Despite lingering shots of scenery, appetites are either satiated or left wanting more at each episode’s end. On the whole, this is a very satisfying bit of horror that, even when its mystery element is 99% exposed early on, has a lot to offer viewers by way of visual storytelling, Romantic images, luscious art, gratifying gore, and the always fun decent into madness. Another is not without its faults, but they are rendered almost forgivable due to its popcorn-horror nature. 

Medium: TV Anime (12 episodes)
Director: Tsutomu Mizushima
Studio: P.A. Works
Distributor: Kadokawa Pictures Inc.
Release Date: Jan. 9, 2012 (JP), Jan. 10, 2012 (US)
Age Rating: 17+ (violence, profanity)

Unsurprisingly, F/Z Part II episode 1 is not perfect, but it's as direct a follow-up as one could have hoped for. As if the Winter season never happened, viewers are dropped right back where Part I teasingly ended on. This episode's glorious aerial combat sequence alone features more spectacle than any scene in Part I. ufotable continue to raise the standards of TV anime with stunning lighting and great camerawork in each scene, making most shows this season look impoverished.

If the first episode is anything to go by, Part II aims to please a restless crowd disappointed by the non-existent body count of Part I. Time is running short, both in the F/Z universe and in the show’s episode count, leaving little excuse for characters to sit around and talk for episodes at a time. At the cost of all the characterization and philosophy from Gen Urobuchi’s original F/Z light novel, the story will at least begin to move now, if only out of simple necessity. I’m not convinced that F/Z will be my most anticipated weekly release, especially as it's the sole Crunchyroll delaycast among the six other shows I’m watching, but there are still 12 more opportunities to make the wait worth it.

 — David

Dusk Maiden of Amnesia

Studio: Silver Link
Director: Shin Ounuma
Now Streaming on Crunchyroll

Tasogare Otome x Amnesia (Dusk Maiden of Amnesia) centers on activities of the paranormal investigations club at Seikyoy Private Academy. Rumors about paranormal activity haunt this school, and the club members — Kanoe, Niiya, Kanoe, and Okonogi — task themselves with investigating the more substantial reports they receive. The twist is that not all of the club’s members are, shall we say, on the class attendance list.

I was wary of this show based on its premise, which sounded like something akin to a mash-up of Sket Dance, Ghost Hunt, and Another. To my surprise, however, the humorous first moments of the show defused my standoffishness. The first half introduces Okonogi, who is so obsessed with trying to sort out which mysteries to investigate that she remains completely oblivious to the attention-seeking antics of a local poltergeist. This ghost turns out to be the club’s omnipresent president, who can be seen by all the members except Okonogi and is responsible for at least some of the recent paranormal events reported by students.

Playful humor is the key here. But as much as the first 10 minutes are strikingly tongue-in-cheek, the rest of the show is 98% mired in the usual adolescent anxiety yuks. The remaining 2% is comprised of scenes where the club president does things just to make Okonogi freak out (which alone are charming and make the first episode worth the view). Not what I was expecting, and pleasantly so, this show has at least hooked me in for a few more episodes to see where it wants to go and how it’s going to take its audience there.

— Ink

Indeed, the economy-pumping vigor of domestic interest and the growth of anime popularity worldwide form a double-edged sword for Japan. There’s a stigma associated with animation that labels it a child’s medium in the West (despite myriad age- and sex-appropriate subjects), yet even the most regrettably childish series afford artists an avenue by which to express themselves while also drawing foreign attention towards at least some portion of Japanese life and culture. Anime, with its 24-minute episodes and movie-length features, seems to be the ideal artistic medium for representing Japan to itself and to the world. So much so that it’s hard to imagine poetry appealing to the masses in this age where time literally equals money. Poetry takes time, thought, and sometimes a range of insights (historical, political, personal, regional) in order to fully comprehend its bearers’ beauty. How then to rectify this gap of expression and misappropriated focus? Integration. Enter Chihayafuru.

Based on the manga by Yuki Suetsugu, Chihayafuru centers around a group of friends who are, by varying degrees and focus, interested in competitive karuta — a card game unique to Japan. Karuta is essentially a timed Concentration match, except that the players’ cards are all exposed and there are no “turns.” Players are tasked with being the first to touch the card (torifuda) with the phrase that completes the card being read (yomifuda) by a designated, third-party tanka reciter. The competitive aspect lends to intense action, while the subject of the game, Hyakunin Isshu (The 100 Poets), lends to a sense of national history and pride. There is an innate conflict in these two aspects, and as the josei (women's) anime it is, Chihayafuru represents such turmoil via one of its characters, Kanade Oe, in relation to the game itself as well as others’ attitude towards it.

Specifically, Kanade’s point of contention is that the nature of competitive karuta does not allow any time to actually enjoy the poems. Players often have to spring for a card based on the first audible syllable. This conflict, like much in Chihayafuru, has no direct resolution, but the series uses its themes to great effect. Instead of attempting to mend the contention between gameplay and subject, Kanade takes consolatory pleasure in other aspects of the game, such as traditional garb (hakama) worn by contestants. This is not as flippant as it sounds. Kande has been brought up by her parents, who own a store dedicated to such traditional clothing. Also, Kanade delights in edifying her teammates (mainly the protagonist, Chihaya) by elaborating on the meaning of some of the verse on the cards they’re so haphazardly slapping across regulation tatami mats. Kanade, new to competitive karuta, is not the fastest on the draw, so becoming the Queen, or best female player (as is usually the goal of any female karuta player), is rather unlikely. Upon realizing why she continues to be a part of her karuta team, to become an official yomifuda reciter, Kanade discovers that she must become a queen. By the end of season one, Kanade has a long way to go. Her fortitude, however, represents ancient custom trying to find a place in the lives of the current generation. Kanade loves the poems so much that she wants to read them (or at least as much of them allowed per volley) in a sport that attracts the young! We can see the opposite attitude in the anime’s main character, Chihaya Ayase.

In the world of karuta, Chihaya Ayase is all ear and reflex — something that can actually bring about faults (otetsuki) during matches due to similar-sounding syllables. Chihaya represents the current generation of impulse and immediacy ... action without thought. This is made clear in several karuta matches where Chihaya loses because of her own limitations. The brilliance of the story, and I believe the intended moral as well, is how Chihaya, determined to become queen at all costs, takes in lessons from opponents and teammates alike. Every bout, whether participating or observing, is an opportunity for learning something new. Often, strength is associated with “personalizing” a particular card — a “sweet card,” if you will. Most often, it is the meaning of the lines of verse that make them “speak” to a player. Such internalization speaks more to poetry than to competition, yet still helps players get the upper hand during matches. This is epitomized in one of the last episodes of the first season, where the current queen, grown heavy from a lengthy chocolate binge, overcomes her speed handicap with the accuracy and determination derived from her personal connection to the poems.

The effort and personal growth shown in all the characters are what drive this series. The action, mainly the way the matches are portrayed, and a subtly threaded love triangle keep the pace lively and tender (respectively). However, it is the individual evolutions spurred on by internalizing the poetic content of karuta, whether for memorization in hopes of a faster strike or personal relevance to add passion behind the same, that makes traditional content (poetry) relevant to a new generation (anime viewers). The message, as flatly stated by Kanade in episode six, is that “You can feel the seasons and modesty in a way that can’t be found in modern poetry!” This is nostalgic Japan exclaiming, “wake up and internalize your history” via a modern art form that currently holds the attention of more and more people on a domestic as well as international level.

Chihayafuru is streaming right now on Crunchyroll.

My liver will conquer you all.

 You do not drink wine that way...

...but I will humor you.

 You've been served!

And why do I have to drink it from a wooden ladle?

And I made it and some fitting goblets out of thin air.  Beat that, Jesus.  I didn't even need water!

Every month, Ani-Gamers blogger Ink tackles an anime, manga, or video game through the theme of alcohol in our column "Drunken Otaku." Look out for "Beer Googles" (reviews), "Great Drinkers" (character profiles), and "Great Moments in Drinking" (more or less). To read previous entries, click here.

Anime Trivia
Panelists: The Con Artists – Scott Fermeglia, Shushma Chandran, Daniel Condaxis, Brendan Flaherty

Trivia happened: host Scott Fermeglia asked, and audience members answered. At least most of the time the audience answered; sometimes, okay, a lot of the time, it was a staff member or fellow panelist. This was seemingly due to the fact that the questions were based on anime that no one or very few people in the audience had seen. Even when a few attendees raised their hands, the collective sighs at the difficulty of the questions after their respective answers’ reveal left most laughing. Despite long stretches of touch-and-go Q&A, Scott kept things very entertaining with a good blend of jokes, ribbing, and self-effacing humor.

Anime Name-That-Image
Panelists: The Con Artists – Scott Fermeglia, Shushma Chandran, Daniel Condaxis, Brendan Flaherty

Screenshot trivia. I thought I stood a chance, but this game proved as humbling as it was humiliating. In my group of friends (outside the ani-blogosphere), I’m considered the one who’s entire viewing habit revolves around anime. But trying to identify screenshots at a rate of roughly one per every three minutes throughout a two hour panel, and failing miserably to even recognize half of what was shown, made me feel a bit of awe with respect to just how much anime I haven’t seen. Conversely, that which I was able to identify put me in the shame-on-you-for-watching-such-trash category nine times out of ten ... if I even made it to nine. Kudos to those who chose the screenshots, which ranged from regular full frames to zoomed-in shots of characters' shoes and images on TV sets in the background of shots. The choices made the game fun and challenging.

Fandom & Criticism: The Art of Active Viewing
Panelists: Evan Minto, Ink, Erin Finnegan, Noah Fulmor

Best panel at the con. Hey, this ain’t no newspaper — I don’t have to be objective. Seriously though, we had a great turnout for such an academically titled panel. Evan and the Ninja Consultants recorded it, so I’ll spare you any summary other than that this roundtable discussion — from the four panelists to the crowd and back again — went seamlessly. The audience seemed engaged and eager to contribute, and everyone on the panel brought out valid points and even some surprising revelations concerning how they watch and think during viewings/readings. How did 4 panelists with no prepared order of response manage to so effortlessly coordinate their answers? One item: 4-sided die. Oh yeah, ‘cause we’re that kind of cool.

The Changing Faces of Anime
Panelist: Evan Minto

In what would probably make one hell of a PowerPoint post here on Ani-Gamers (cough-cough), Evan took the audience through the diversity that is anime’s visual history in order to examine aspects of styles unique to particular directors and animators via their associated projects. He also explored the ever-branching tree of consequential influence, explaining and illustrating what certain successors have used and changed from their predecessors. Speed accelerated some of the dryer subject points, and humor made the time pass all the quicker. Minto's obvious knowledge and research pays off in transitioning between panels and filling out examples with great detail. Evan's speed ended up leaving the panel with 17 minutes to spare, but his ability to think on his feet when fielding answers from the audience eliminated some of that dead air time. Unfortunately, he was so thorough that there weren’t many raised hands from the rather full room.

Culinary Manga, Alcohol and Manga, and Unusual Manga Genres — a Three Panel Retrospective
Panelists: Ninja Consultants – Erin Finnegan & Noah Fulmor

Sense a theme? I do: learning! The first two panels listed above explored manga with a specific focus, whether as a series or in stand-alone volumes; its relation to Japanese culture; as well as the myriad audiences towards which they are marketed. "Culinary Manga" exposed the audience to multitudinous titles that dealt with subjects ranging from the microscopic (Moyashimon) to the epic (Toriko). "Alcohol and Manga" (gee, whoever thought I would attend a panel titled such?!) highlighted vocabulary, gave examples of national shame and pride, and touted as many obscure titles as they did mainstream, such as Bartender and Drops of God. Heavy research and reading experience meant that ne’er was there only one example, but at least two or three of every niche market-reaching topical manga out there! Due not only to the diversity of topics but also number of examples, the podcasters’ skills came in handy during all the presentations and especially in "Unusual Manga Genres", which incorporated a little bit of both aforementioned panels while also diving off the deep end to explore a seemingly endless supply of niche manga produced for education, promotion, awareness, and entertainment. Erin and Noah would basically run through slide after slide until breathless or parched and then hand the mic off to the other. In this fashion, and without any lag in spirit or humor, the Ninja Consultant duo opened the audience’s mind to myriad universes of the printed page.

Cosplay Dating
(8:30 AM Sunday edition)

Maybe I’m just not enough of an otaku, but 8:30 in the morning seemed like a poor scheduling decision for a Dating Game variation. In fact, the room was nigh empty...until around 9:00, when cosplayers and normies started trickling in and taking their seats. By the time the panel was ready for its first round of interviews, the audience was ample enough in number to garner a decent selection of contestants. The gears were far from well oiled at first, but eventually hosts and guests found their timing. There was also a little bit of awkwardness in making this game happen without the use of the 18+ questions (even when a couple mistakenly slipped in). All said and done, there were two rounds that left the hosts with only 20 minutes left. “Another round or leave early,” asked one of the panelists, to which the crowd eagerly responded “another!” I’m guessing you can call that a success.

Burn on Sight! – Bad Games
Panelists: The Con Artists – Scott Fermeglia, Shushma Chandran, Daniel Condaxis, Brendan Flaherty

Sometimes expectations garnered from years of congoing can be smashed in the most delightful ways. For this panel, Fermeglia and fellow Con Artists didn’t just do a slideshow commenting on horrible video games. Instead, each member elaborated upon their disgust for one particular title, including one instance where the presenter did a tit-for-tat comparison of the original Contra (good) and Neo Contra for the PlayStation 2 (BAD!!!) — chock full o’ color commentary. The crown jewel of this panel, though, the best saved for last, was an epic tale centered around the PS2 game Ar tonelico II: Melody of Metafalica. Sure the game’s content, as pointed out by the presenters, was overly complex and jaw-droppingly inappropriate at almost every turn, but the sheer length of the presentation, stressing the length, the never-ending nature of the game (much like this sentence) drew me closer to insanity with every second it continued. A presentation to match the essence of the game? Brilliant.

Viewing Anime Online
Panelist: Rick Ralston

Admittedly, I ran out of steam and patience by the time this panel rolled around. So please forgive the tone and lack of specific content in this summation. The presenter seemed nervous and had a delivery that could make a snowman close its eyes, which is a shame given the topic at hand and the average age range of attendees. As younger, Internet-savvy fans get involved with anime, the morality of supporting the industry can often fall to the wayside, forsaken for instant gratification via illegal fansubs/scanlations. Thus this panel could have been a great way to explain to the younger set some positive means of accessing the content they desire while supporting the industry. According to the Genericon guide as well as the presenter’s meet up page, the panel aimed to identify industry-supported websites, explore if/why it is necessary to support those sites, discuss what online viewing means in relation to the future of the industry, and talk about advantages of paying for service as opposed to using free sites. The content seemed basic to me, with Rick presenting options such as FUNimation’s online portal, AnimeNetwork, Crunchyroll, Crackle and the like, but my previously stated exhaustion and intolerance for bad presentation didn’t let me take in much more than the first 10 minutes (a good chunk of which involved technical difficulties due to Genericon’s finicky WiFi). Likewise and unfortunately, a good deal of the audience was also leaking into the aisles, trudging up the stairs, and heading towards the door. If the presentation of material gets better, I'd love to see this panel get scheduled at every single con on principle alone.

Three video rooms were allocated for live programming, animation, and a mix of both, all showing a good range of shows and movies. To test these rooms, I stayed awake from Saturday through Sunday, catching Excel Saga and the dub of Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion for the first time (both are extremely funny when sleep-deprived, in case you were wondering). If watching away the early hours of the morning wasn’t enough, the video game room and tabletop gaming areas also remained open for attendees. Though definitely sparse compared to the daytime attendance, the con remained populated and appreciated by the night owls (and those without accommodations). So thanks, Genericon! (EDITOR'S NOTE: For the record, I did offer to let you crash in my dorm room.)

Being held on a college campus, Genericon did a wise thing and segmented its Artist's Alley and Vendor areas into multiple, smaller, side-by-side classrooms. This seemed to alleviate some of the crowding, but the vendor areas were still packed, and inter- as well as intra-room flow was still a bit chaotic. Also, completely square rooms made it difficult to determinine which dealer was responsible for which items(s). Though the range of products from vendors seemed to dwarf the offerings from Artists’ Alley, there were still plenty of attendees circling both areas.

While I’ve never felt video games to be an integral part of a con, Genericon left open a 24/2.5 room for such, and I can definitely see (and indeed saw) how it would be appreciated by attendees...especially those covering the graveyard shift. Since Genericon’s video game room “runs on charitable donations,” the mix of consoles and games, coupled with the amount of available stations at which to play said games, was as excitingly eclectic as it was sparse. While this certainly did not hinder the late night crowd, I could see how the more enthusiastic daytime masses might arrive en masse and quickly turn around in impatient disappointment.

To the contrary, Genericon’s mobile app — complete with con schedule, interactive indoor maps, and more — looked like it would have been amazing. I have a dumb-phone, however, and the app was not compatible with my Kindle Fire, so I cannot report firsthand the awesomeness it seemed to offer. You, however, should totally check out its page and features and come around next year in hopes that you too can use it. Speaking of mobile device compatibility, RPI offered free (if only somewhat finicky) WiFi. That, combined with decent cellular coverage (at least for AT&T), made keeping in touch with friends much easier than in NYC’s Javits Center.

Though you wouldn’t guess it from the pictures I took (for some reason, being a 30-something non-student asking to take pictures of kids that were of college age or younger just seemed wrong on a campus), fandom was in full swing at Genericon. Cosplayers were everywhere, from recent series such as Madoka and Hetalia to older cartoons like Inspector Gadget and anime legends like Space Battleship Yamato. In short, the kids are, in fact, alright, and they also know how to rock.

While I wasn’t expecting anything from a rock band that calls itself “Eyeshine” and is fronted by an American anime voice actor (I’d never even heard of the band until Genericon), I have to admit that I underestimated it. Eyeshine had me bouncing from song one or two, and the hypnotized crowd eagerly filled in clap rhythms and screamed in enthusiastic appreciation after each song. Songs ranged from straight-out rock and pop-rock to anime OP (J-rock)-sounding pop but never lost an ounce of energy. My pictures of the concert can be found right here on anigamers.com (via Flickr)!

If you’re close to Troy, I’d recommend attending Genericon. There’s honestly nothing here I don’t think you won’t find at any other con (aside from the 24/2.5 openness ... which was AWESOME), but it’s got a great sense of programming, good layout and administration, and decent geographical placement (not but a couple miles away from two fantastic bars: Kokopellis and Dublin). I traveled 3.5 hours at break-neck speeds to get there, and do not regret a single moment spent.

DISCLAIMER: Ani-Gamers editor-in-chief Evan Minto was the Vice-Chair and Public Relations Coordinator of Genericon XXV. He was involved in copy-editing and fact-checking this article, but did not contribute to the value judgments of Genericon detailed above.

After Midorikawa and her friends leave and all is clear in the hall, Yamazaki grabs an action hero promotional poster, pokes eyeholes in it, and puts it in front of his face like a mask (keep this in mind for later).

Evening comes, and Yamazaki storms into Tatsuhiro Sato's apartment in full alcohol-induced vigor. Yamazaki has managed to drink his sorrow away and even get excited over the upcoming summer comic market.  This new found enthusiasm is spurred on by a boast he made during a drinking party to his classmates about how his current project, a "gal game," would put all his other classmates' projects to shame. To make good on the boast, Yamazaki must push Sato into the dubious realm of productivity (not something at which a hikikomori normally excels).  Sato does give his all to work on his contribution (the script) to the gal game, but his recent conflicted feelings about his hikikomori counselor, Misaki Nakahara, stop him in his tracks at every turn.

That calls for another drink.

And another.

Frothing with Usahi (Asahi) beer and rage, and fueled by the past and present indignation suffered from the whims of women combined with Sato's inability to work, Yamazaki attempts to bolster Sato’s spirits and get his head on straight with a little chant that is one of the greatest moments in drinking...the dirty whore rant:

Every month, Ani-Gamers blogger Ink tackles an anime, manga, or video game through the theme of alcohol in our column "Drunken Otaku." Look out for "Beer Googles" (reviews), "Great Drinkers" (character profiles), and "Great Moments in Drinking" (more or less). To read previous entries, click here.

Half of the game is spent trying to reunite with Malik, and the other half is spent dealing with the surrounding evil. I don't know whether PoP: TFS felt easier due to my lengthy replay of its predecessors or if the new game is just inherently easier, but the lack of a hard difficulty (even after beating the game on a very easy-feeling Normal) may be a clue. Puzzles are sparse and, aside from the select few that subtly require the use of the Prince's Djinn-given powers, can be figured out in a couple of moments upon the first encounter. Similarly, the acrobatic paths required to navigate all the maps are so obvious that one could either compliment the camerawork for guiding the player or chide the level designers for offering up such an unambiguous environment. That said, the acrobatics (which I'll get to later) are what make this game ... especially when you take the fighting element into account.

The games comprising the Sands of Time trilogy have always walked a delicate balance between acrobatics and combat, leaning to one side or the other in any given iteration.  PoP: TFS is no different but rather attacks the issue in a different way. Here, the Prince faces off relatively frequently against hordes of up to around 20 enemies, most of whom don't require more than two sword blows to finish off, whereas the previous games had the player simultaneously facing, at most, five or so moderately challenging opponents. The difference is rather brilliant: make the battle element that of a button-masher to let the player feel accomplished in having dispatched so many minions while saving the real effort and time for the subsequent navigation. While the button mashing does get a bit tedious, there is a semi-decent variety of enemies, a few different combat moves, as well as ice, fire, and wind spells that can make each onslaught different enough to avoid becoming totally stale.

But acrobatics are the bread and butter of PoP: TFS. While the path the Prince must take may be all too easily discernible, that does not mean the path itself is easy. The Prince gains the power of the Djinn and with it can rewind time as well as freeze the flow of water to make it a navigable surface. A specific Djinn, Razia, also gives the Prince her familiarity with the now crumbled kingdom so that broken pieces may be made whole once more (but only one section at a time). Combine those aspects with already familiar movements, like wall running, pole swinging, ledge climbing, and bird hopping, and keeping track of what button does what can become your own worst enemy within maps intricately constructed to test dexterity (the Prince's as well as your fingers’).

Controls are spot-on, but some of the Prince’s moves feel unrealistic (compared to the earlier games).  These range from being able to run straight up a wall after jumping to it, running up walls after hanging statically from some exposed part of it (protruding stone or ledge), and bird hopping.  The action used to accomplish the latter is reminiscent of the 2008 PoP game: a power of flight aspect that just feels entirely out of sync with the rest of the physics in PoP: TFS.  Easily, programmers could have just added another bird onto which the Prince could jump or bring the ledges a little closer.  Believable or not, the gameplay is very fluid, even if it seemed to lag a bit, and the in-game camera, usually the bane of the series, is almost never an issue.

Steve Jablonsky's musical score is both appropriate to the theme of the game and complementary to each level's beautifully rendered aesthetics. My favorite touch regarding the latter is the random placement of sandstone statues, formerly living palace guards, that continually try to hold fast slightly open doors or otherwise stand and lie frozen in place. Their presence adds an eerie ambiance to a palace worn away with an omnipresent evil (sand) that wisps through those same crevasses. However lovingly crafted, cutscenes still smack of the earlier titles’ blocky renderings at times. Given the history of criticism behind the voice acting, it is also worth noting that Yuri Lowenthal reprises his role as the well-humored, sarcastic Prince from PoP: The Sands of Time and PoP: The Two Thrones.

I was so engrossed with the gameplay of PoP: TFS that it felt disappointingly short ... especially with the terse ending. The story is one big action movie cliché, but it's one that's fun to take part in and shares a good deal of elements with the original Sands of Time series. Sadly, PoP: TFS falls short on heart and introspective depth, making it akin to a deleted scene or bonus featurette rather than its own story. The insulting nature of this perceived brevity is compounded by the game’s only other mode of play: an Arena wherein the only wave of opponents consists of an eight-course serving of butter. I picked this title up on a whim one day at Best Buy for $20. If I had paid any more, I think I would have felt ripped off, but Prince of Persia: The Forgotten Sands is definitely worth your time to rent (or buy if the price is right).

While the plot is certainly centered around the struggle between Shizuku and Issei, the real struggle of the story is the exploration of self through which Shizuku has to go in order to be able to relate to his late father. Shizuku has had an in-depth education on the ways of wine but has never drank any, putting him at a severe disadvantage at a blind tasting. Issei has had a lifetime and celebrated career as a wine taster, but only one week as Yutaka’s son. As the plot progresses, Issei doesn’t try to be any more a son to the departed, but Shizuku (with help from apprentice sommelier Shinohara Miyabi) goes through various trials that bring him further and further down into the cellar of the subject that was his father’s passion.

The aforementioned trials are the bulk of this manga, and the wines they center around (all 100% authentic) are the respective heft of the chapters. This is made most obvious via the attention paid to the visual rendering of any panel featuring bottles or wine. Character designs and settings are distinguished but rather average in most instances, while any scene involving wine, wine bottles, or the various visual metaphors employed for the euphoric experience of tasting wine (a Queen concert, a maiden in a field, a merry-go-round, a scene from Strauss’s Salome) come across not as photorealistic but as lovingly crafted portraiture. Any serious wine drinker will love this manga for this aspect alone. To all readers, the alternation betwixt what I’ll call character and bottle style imbues this 424-page volume with a diversity of visuals that whets appetites for the next feast.

There is also a LOT of textual description within these pages: vinter lineages, wine taste, wine smell, how to drink wine, how to pour wine, when to pour wine, wine origin and similarity ... you get the gist.  Casual readers would probably find the material a bit too dry for their tastes were it not for the almost beguiling charm derived from the pacing of Shizuku and Miyabi's adventures as well as humor written a little too perfectly via extended metaphors exploiting similarities in terminology between manga and wine (such as the conversation pictured on the right). So that, combined with the almost laughably yet convincingly applied left-field taste analogies (did I mention the Queen concert?) and their culmination, actually makes the manga a proverbial page-turner. The same characteristics contribute to readability for those in the know. Being shoveled information on decanting, vintages, vineyards, etc. can be downright tedious, but it is the mix of storytelling techniques and art that will elicit interest and propel wine connoisseurs through the book. While outright descriptions attempt to fill readers in on the wines as well as the experience of drinking them, the authors and illustrator do a fantastic job defining Shizuku and Issei via glimpses into their preparations for the upcoming battles.

Shizuku, whose first musical wine metaphor involves Queen, describes the wine admiringly as “somehow like classical” but not quite, with “a melting sweetness and a sharp rush of sourness.” Altogether not the most poignant of descriptions, but it is a Romantic one. Later on, readers get a taste of Issei’s musical leanings: Richard Strauss’s opera, Salome, which Issei associates with a “blood scented sensuality born of decadence.” If one sets aside the obvious sweet vs. evil leanings of those descriptions, the context in which they are delivered is as subtle delivery mechanism as any for showing a major difference between the main characters.

The perpetual learner, Shizuku mostly listens to others. When he does speak, usually to elaborate upon the characteristics of a wine at hand or demonstrate a wine-related technique, his flowery meditations are written such that they are more Zen moments of sensory exploration that seem identifiable to those surrounding Shizuku. Even the way he gives advice to people shows him to be a genuine helping hand — a person who keeps in mind exactly who he is reaching out to as opposed to showing off transcendent talent of taste/technique. The latter is more applicable to Issei’s preachy tone. A lecturer at heart, Issei often talks as though no one else is in the room ... even when it’s part of a dialogue. I wager readers can take everyone else out of a scene involving Issei describing wine and that scene would have the same effect. By the end of the volume, the main characters’ choices of musical allusions reflect not only how personable they are but their sense of modernity as well. So far, Shizuku involves the recent present (as much as 70s Queen is recent) and Issei invokes a century-old opera. As wine is consistently referred to as a living thing (temperamental), how closely each critic can pull similarities from their own near history is an indication of who keeps wine closer and who put it upon a pedestal of distance.

Not everything in The Drops of God is great. The pacing can seem laborious depending on personal experience with and interest in wine, and there are a few minor instances where clichés border on offensive and overly convenient: why must the wine wisdom and saving grace in one arc come from a homeless person ... who then ends up knowing the main characters and acting as a judge?! But even if I found myself getting angry at situations like that, keep in mind that I was getting angry because it wasn't perfect. Why? Because this manga is just that good, and I wanted it to be perfect. This graphic novel has actually influenced countries' wine sales and purchases fer chris’ sake. If nothing else, to quote Evan Minto, “it’s almost frustrating how compelling it is!”

While the art’s origins are debatable, “suminagashi” is the oldest known form of paper marbling — decorating paper by laying it atop a shallow bed of water laced with inks and can be traced as far back as 12th century Japan.  As explained to me by the aforementioned panelist, the process of letting paper absorb the patterns of ink was used by monks to help extend the lifetime of handwritten scrolls so they would not need to be as frequently copied due to threat of deterioration.  Reading up more on the matter, suminagashi emerged as an art form that involved gently blowing, fanning, or using a single human hair on the ink to create intricate patterns and spread worldwide in myriad fashion and form.

Most of the people at the workshop did not seem to be taking as much care with their projects (of course this was only an hour workshop). Instead, they randomly added ink spots here and there in their shallow pans of water and used a small paintbrush to make large strokes and patterns like so much modern art. Even though this produced naught but colorful Rorschach tests and tie-dyed shirts for paper dolls, the results were always quite fetching. Watching the process of con-goers-turned-painters trying to bring their own visions of patterns to life made me, after reading about the skills employed in eras gone by, nostalgic for the image of the lone artisan matching wits against the will of water, the ink's surface tension, and his or her own skilled hand.

Suminagashi seems an enviable art of patience and skill equally open to abstract painter and hobbyist. If you'd like to try your own hand at suminagashi, there's a detailed how-to here, and of course the Wikipedia page has tons more info than I've relayed here. Just wanted to wet your appetite!

Kelts specifically noted Astro Boy, which emerged after World War II, and pointed out how the story uses radiation as an aspect of creation rather than destruction. This "boy born of radiation" shows a faith in the same technology (or along the lines thereof) that delivered such a crushing blow to life not even a decade earlier. Along the same lines, Kelts offered up a similar method of thinking regarding the resurrection of the Japanese battleship Yamato, which was the pride of the countrys naval fleet as one of its most technologically advanced WWII warships. After its defeat, the Yamato came back to life via fiction as a technologically superior spaceship ("Take THAT, America!"). In addition to Kelts also mentioned the birth of mecha as means to fight the disillusionment with current technology. In all instances, destructive new technology didnt bring about fear in art but rather promise as well as hope that what has been survived can be learned from and built upon to become stronger.

Next Kelts focused on two anime film directors, Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata, and their specific works. Perhaps to take advantage of Ponyos immediacy, Kelts pointed to this Miyazaki film as a shining example of the portrayal of natural disasters and Japanese natives reactions to them. Kelts focused specifically on the scene where personified waves of a storm are reaching up and over the road with cars, which are trying to escape. Kelts said that this portrayal is not a malicious one but rather a dangerous fact of life. He said that the eyes in the waves had a sort of aimless, "staring into space" aspect that relayed the same sense of natural innocence as another one of Miyazakis creations, Totoro.

Kelts pointed out one scene in particular from My Neighbor Totoro built on a couple of images meant to evoke memories of the Japanese people who went through WWII. In this particular scene, characters in mismatched clothes watch as a man drives off into the countryside in a jalopy. According to Kelts, this scene was one that took place in many homes during WWII as those types of cars were simply what were available and clothing supplies were scarce. In all, Kelts concluded that since Miyazakis family was one of relative privilege and could afford to escape the paths of destruction, that personal history is what colors his work.

This contrasts Isao Takahatas Grave of the Fireflies, which is tied to the notion of not being able to escape and having to deal with the event as well as its aftereffects. Most of the movie, after all, centers around trying to define and etch out an existence after an American firebombing raid consumes life as the children had known it. Kelts said the differing vantages between directors makes sense given the fact that Takahatas family was of lesser means and could not afford to escape.

After a few more specific examples of the panel, an audience member asked if there was a difference in how man-made and natural disasters are depicted. Kelts postulated that manmade disasters serve as an analogy to the evil that resides within all of us. He noted that even historical apocalyptic depictions spare specific countries any finger pointing. Instead the focus of most anime that deals with man-made apocalyptic scenarios open with disasters instead of trying to prevent them (as with the majority of Western media). This further demonstrates the themes of coping with and overcoming ourselves. Natural disasters, said Kelts, are portrayed as indirect, non-intentional ... just a part of life thats meant to be dealt with and overcome. A rather pertinent question from the audience as to if there has ever been any backlash to the depiction of such tragedies reaped a rather funny, rather thoughtful response from Kelts, who said that there have been none to his knowledge but that the popularity of mo might just be that ... another means of escape from economic or climate-based disasters or both.

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• 25th Anniversary
  – www.viz.com/25years
  – Promotions on iTunes end August 23, 2011
• October premiere of Naruto Shippuden – Bonds movie
• VIZ Manga app is now available for iPad™, iPhone™, iPod™ touch.
• www.vizmanga.com
  – “Now you can finally read your favorite manga on your computer...legally!”
  – Buy once and transport across platforms/devices
  – First chapter is always free
  – Simultaneous print and digital releases
• Future Releases (Manga)
  – Oishinbo
  – Naruto to see quicker release schedule (volumes 36-45)
  – Ai Ore (volume 2) – August 2011
  – The Story of Saiunkoku (volume 4) – August 2011
• New Fiction
  – ICO: Castle in the Mist (paperback), by Miyuki Miyabe – August 2011
  – Book of Heroes (new edition, paperback), by Miyuki Miyabe – August 2011
  – Ten Billion Days and One Hundred Billion Nights (hardcover), by Ryu Miysuse – November 15, 2011
• 2-in-1:
  – Tenjho Tenge “Full Contact” edition (18+) – Available now
• 3-in-1 Editions (Omnibus) – Kekkashi
  – Fullmetal Alchemist
  – Bleach
  – Naruto
• Art Books
  – The Art of Vampire Night – September 6, 2011
  – D. Grey Man – Features interview with creator
  – One Piece: Color Walk 2 – November 1, 2011
• VIZ Kids Box Sets
  – Pokemon Diamond and Pearl Adventure! (volumes 1-8), October 28, 2011 – Comes with poster
  – Legend of Zelda (volumes 1-10), October 25, 2011 – comes with poster
• VIZ Media Box Set
  – Fullmetal Alchemist (volumes 1-27) – November 1, 2011 – Comes with light novel and poster
• Specialty Books
  – Naruto: The Official Character Data Book – January 2012
  – Studio Ghibli’s Arriety – January 2012: The Art of Arriety, Arriety Film Comics (volumes 1-2), Arriety Picture Book
  – Bleach MASKED: Official Character Book 2 – March 2012
• New for Shojo Beat
  – A Devil and Her Love Song – February 2012
  – Dawn of the Arcana – December 2011
  – The Earl and the Fairy – March 2012
  – Hana Kimi (3-in-1), March 2012
  – Skip Beat
• Available Now
  – Meet Mameshiba!
  – Mameshiba On the Loose!
• Special Format
  – Mameshiba (Heart) Winter – November 2011
  – Pokemon Magnetic Playbook – November 2011
• Newest Pokemon Movie
  – Zoroark: Master of Illusions – Video and manga – DVD: September 20, 2011
• Coming Soon
  – Fluffy, Fluffy Cinnamonroll – January 2012
  – Voltron Force – Old crew trains new crew – Spring 2012
• New for VIZ Kids (April 2012)
  – Mr. Men Little Miss
  – Little Miss Sunshine: It’s Always Sunny in Dillydale
• Key Summer Releases (DVD)
  – Vampire Night Guilty (volume 3)
  – Kekkashi Set 2 – August 23, 2011
  – Hero 108
  – Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva (November 8, 2011)
• Continued Simulcasts
  – Tiger & Bunny
  – Blue Exorcist
  – Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan
  – Blue Dragon (uncut), If numbers are good enough, this may see a physical release.

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Tempest started off by setting BJDs apart from their plastic counterparts by noting how the latter is comprised of mass-manufactured, static, non-polished, semi-posable figurines: pre-made molds around which owners minds must build a plausible reality or personality. On the other hand, BJDs are hand-crafted and fully customizable and allow owners to make the dolls in their own image. This doll as avatar idea even comes across in one of the manufacturers (Volks) mantras of building another yourself. This is no understatement. BJDs can be customized to the buyers desire with regards to skin tone, eyes, appendages, body type, and hair in addition to the myriad outfits and accessories available to adorn the laboriously conceived mini-me. Ms. Strife also pointed out that the amount of time and number of decisions that went into the conception of each BJD added to the sense of anticipation and attachment experienced between the completion of an order and its arrival. If this wait is likened to the months parents nervously spend waiting for their own baby to be born, it is possible to see the kind of attachment BJD owners form with their other themselves.

Concerning the levels of attachment betwixt owners of regular dolls vs. BJDs, depth of feeling is further differentiated by semantics of acquisition. Whereas regular dolls are bought, BJDs are brought home. This may seem an inconsequential difference, but what follows is definitely not. It is common for BJD owners to record, via video and photographs, box openings and celebrate such arrivals as births. These photo welcomings arent the only media-based evidence used to accuse BJD owners of obsession. Pride taken by owners in their BJD customization efforts, the giving of form to secret dreams in an aesthetic representative of the owners own style, can only be fully realized when appreciated by others. So those involved with the hobby often attend public meets and publish their collections on the Internet in presentations that range from photo shoots to photo stories. This form of presentation is not original. Hans Bellmer, a German artist, used life-sized pubescent dolls as the subjects for his photographs, which were published in surrealist journals and arguably started the tradition of doll-based photo stories. However, one quick look at BellmersWikipedia page will explain the ringing of modern societys prude alarm.

While most of us in the USA are uncomfortable with public (and even private) nakedness, there exists a major difference when it is seen in what is perceived as a childs hobby vs. art and an anatomically correct vs. neutered state. This nervousness is what sparks the playground-style teasing seen in Western media coverage of BJDs. Not a single news story fails to mention the presence of genitalia on BJDs, which stands in stark contrast to neutered dolls such as Barbie and G.I. Joe. Other common elements in newscasts used to persecute BJDs include removing the dolls wig to make it seem sickly or less recognizably human; focusing on the cost per doll, which can range from hundreds to thousands of dollars; and even automating the dolls movements, such as spinning its head or raising/lowering an appendage, to make it look possessed or unnatural. Over-exaggerated examples of BJDs are not the only focus of finger-pointing newscasters. Tempest pointed out that Western broadcasts specifically target the nervous, the fidgety, the socially awkward for on-camera shock value and the ratings that come with it (or at least to keep the news anchors entertained). This is complemented further by the portrayal of BJD owners as obsessive, which is reinforced when the fact that it is rare to find a BJD owner who only has one doll is combined with the aforementioned statements about cost and emotional attachment. BJD owners are not only interviewed in the USA (of course), however, but their treatment and the story focus tends to vary greatly.

In Japanese media, for example, news stories shows both sexes treating dolls as children. What the West perceives as an obsession translates to almost parental pride. There is a certain air of honor concerning the degree of caretaking required for BJDs, and the bestowing of names, personalities, and back stories is seen as a creative act rather than psychotic. One additional difference is in the focus on obsession, which is seen as a great joy derived from the size of the collection as opposed to a fixation on customization.

According to Tempest, dolls are seen by many as creepy to begin with, because the figures can seem so uncannily human and yet are static ... almost corpse-like. It could be said then that the juxtaposition of these concepts elicits a knee-jerk emotional reaction to the innate fear of death. Ms. Strife did an excellent job of exploring and explaining aspects of the dolls and their owners that Western society generally finds creepy. She also was quite adept at pointing out the cultural bias at work in the Western media and mindset that ostracizes BJDs and those that dare to love them. I say and wholly mean the latter because the panelist, whether knowingly or subconsciously, kept stroking her BJDs hair or caressing its arm whenever she walked near it, and that sort of affection for an inanimate object (at least to me) is just plain creepy.

* Individual doll pictures are of Tempest Strife's BJD, which she was kind enough to share with the panel audience. Group photos were taken at AnimeNEXT 2011.

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Despite being irked at the lack of introduction and discussion, I initially fell into a state of humored awe. There’s just so much giant robot anime out there ... and the panel didn’t even reach its end! No wonder there wasn’t any time for intros (as frustrating as that was). After 10 or so openings, however, I felt a wearing tedium akin to being accosted by a friend whose notion of in-person entertainment is the sharing of endless Internet memes. While thorough in their acquisition of material, the panelists could’ve made a go of being more selective by grouping openings into trends and showing one example per group per time period and then discussing possible reasons for the noticeable differences.

After coming to terms that there would be no explanations, I sat back and tried as adeptly as possible to discern the evolutionary path myself. There was more than enough on which to comment, but among the things I found fascinating was the gradual swing in focus from violence to teamwork as saving grace. Within even this over-simplified observation there is much to expand upon: operator interaction with singular robots in the various recurring violent and teamwork eras, focus on detailed technological aspects of the robots themselves, form, weaponry, setting, fictitious and real word historical framing, etc. Alas, with but a minute or two of fury to note so many aspects, I simply put down my pen and enjoyed the relentless onslaught of visuals with the rest of the lip-syncing, bouncing crowd. And for the first panel on opening day of the con, maybe that’s all I needed.

Credit goes to yosefu2 for posting all the above clips to YouTube.

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