Abstract:

Despite the plurality and acceptance of music remixes and mash-ups on Youtube, often enriched with similarly mashed video clips, some critics remain sceptical regarding these recent developments in popular music. In this paper, I would like to use cultural critic Hiroki Azuma’s theory of database consumption in Japanese otaku culture as a theoretical framework to demonstrate how digital remix cultures can be understood from this theory. The foremost reason why I decided on this theory is that I noticed obvious similarities between the otaku culture and digital remix cultures, especially in terms of deconstruction and reconstruction of existing works.

Keywords: culture industry, music, mash-up, remix, database consumption

Grade: 9.5/10

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Abstract:

In present paper, I will argue that Japanese dating simulation video games can be considered as serious games. Prior to advancing my main argument, I will introduce the popular dating sim LovePlus and relate it to the historization of the concept of „techno-intimacy‟ within the Japanese society. For further contextualization of the field, I will theorize the audience at which dating sims are aimed. Definitions by other scholars concerning serious games will form the theoretical framework in which I demonstrate that we can indeed perceive Japanese dating sims as serious games.

Keywords: dating sims, LovePlus, otaku culture, serious games, techno-intimacy

Grade: 8.5/10

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Abstract:

This paper discusses the possibilities of video games as visual-oriented training. By focusing on the game Ōkami and its worldwide praised visual presentation, I will criticize the Western notion of dichotomy of word and image and provide examples from Japanese cultures to problematize this Western oriented dichotomy. After demarcating the layer of “typical Japanese” of Ōkami, comparison between Ōkami’s visual style and traditional forms of Japanese art during the game will be made and subsequently put into perspective to illustrate the issues of the dichotomization of word and image. I will argue that video games would not be an inappropriate medium to combat visual illiteracy, considering the level of artistic freedom and popularity they enjoy. 

Keywords: computer graphics, non-photorealism, Ōkami, remediation, visual illiteracy

Grade: 9/10

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‘So far, so good’ is probably the best manner to summarize my first two months at the MA programme New Media and Digital Culture. While still having problems in finding certain buildings of certain lectures in Utrecht, I fortunately had less difficulties with the programme itself. Both courses, digital visualization and game studies, really were thought-provoking and eye-openers, especially after having spent three years on the traditional subjects of Japanese Studies. For this courses, I did research on the remediation of traditional Japanese art styles in Ôkami and the consideration of Japanese dating sim LovePlus as a serious game, respectively. Next course, I’ll be following Digital Music Cultures, which won’t be much of a surprise if you know my background.

Only one course, you ask? Yes. Whereas I was rather anxious regarding the internship, all of a sudden I managed to find an institution that exactly matches my (academic) interests. Actually, as a regular participant of MEARC‘s (short for ‘Modern East Asian Research Centre’) lectures, I was well aware of its existence, but it never struck me that I could work there. Upon contacting its manager, it became clear they have never offered an internship before, but were willing to provide me one nevertheless. Consider me happily relieved. As the internship, however, will start early December, it overlaps with two university quamesters (is that a word?). Therefore I had to drop one course now and I have to follow another one from February onwards.

As a final note, I have joined the New Media Studies editorial board a few weeks ago. Not much productivity from my hands yet, but that will certainly change in the upcoming weeks, as we’ll be working hard on the fifth issue of the journal. And once we’re done, my internship starts. I must admit, though: I have been missing Japan Studies’ crazy pressure of workload.

Other tidbits:
- I had finally found a part-time job. After one month, I had only worked three hours, so I found that a jolly good reason to quit. Actually, I yet have to.
- Our apartment is finally done. Fortunately, every friend or family member who drops by is pleasantly surprised by how it turned out, so I guess my girlfriend and I did a good job. However,…
- As of today, we still have no internet connection.  The first provider concluded upon closer inspection that it would be impossible to provide an internet connection in our apartment, yet they expected me to pay connection fee – which I obviously didn’t and now they’re considering sending a Huissier de justice (yes, I had to google that). The second provider is working on a solution for two weeks now and send me a dongle to meet my wishes. However, the dongle’s box says it’s a prepaid dongle while the software it installed claims it’s subscription based. The customer service didn’t know anything about it either, so after having used it for three days, I decided it’d be better to put it back in its box.

How do we perceive video games these days? Stores are crammed with them. Three enormous shelves for the current generation of consoles; next to these, there are handheld titles, somewhat less prominent. Finally, at our feet, there are the remnants of the previous generation of games. Most people who enter a game store know already what game they are going to buy. If not, they’ll tend to pick something with an attractive cover or agreeable price. In this case, games can be considered as a source of amusement. For the store owner, games are the fruits of his labour. Still, games, like movies and literature, are often more than just that – more than a form of amusement or a way to earn your bread. Sometimes they contain a message, like No More Heroes.

When you play No More Heroes for the first time, you might find it an ‘okay game’. But, as you progress through the game, you realise that the game is so much more than what you initially thought. Each time you believe that you’re starting to comprehend the plot, everything gets turned on its head, washed away by a tsunami of plot twists. Both you and the protagonist remain filled with questions. You’ll try to connect the loose points, but your resistance is futile. The player is attacked via Travis. You see, Travis is a reflection of the gamer. A virtual alter-ego, locked away in a city with no exit. What does this mean for you, as the player? What does it mean to be in a locked city? What intentions did Goichi Suda have while developing No More Heroes?

Why you are an otaku

The protagonist in No More Heroes is Travis Touchdown, 27 years old and ‘otaku’ to the core. This term refers to the Japanese subculture, in which an obsessive interest in anime, manga, videogames etc. is one of the most significant features. This is manifested in Travis’s motel room: a Nintendo 64, Lucha Libre masks and anime action figures. Not only in his room, but also in Santa Destroy we can find such references. For example, Randall Lovikov, who asks Travis to retrieve his 47 Lovikov-balls. For each seven balls that Travis returns, he’ll learn a new, special technique. This is a reference to Dragon Ball, a manga that’s been popular in Japan since the eighties. The characters in Dragon Ball are searching for the seven Dragon Balls, which summon a wish-granting dragon once all seven are collected. Also, the manual of No More Heroes claims the Lovikov-balls are part of some mysterious dragon.

Often, otaku has a negative connotation – they are thought to be without a purpose in life, the ‘lifeless’. This can be considered as a reaction of the mainstream to the limited and anti-social interests of otakus. This is something that can also be found in Santa Destroy, for the city is a reflection of Travis’s interests: vehicles without any details, flat buildings with no personality, and pedestrians are mere decoration. It’s as if the city has been built by Travis. Or built for Travis. Or both. You only have access to the locations that have Travis’s interest: the video store, the clothing store, the gym and places where one can kill. Of course, it’s also possible that due to lack of time, money or interest, Suda didn’t pay any more attention to the city. But if he would explain the emptiness of Santa Destroy by using the argument I just provided, critics would have to accept it.

Sociological approach

Let’s approach Travis in a sociological way. From this perspective, too, he is the typical reflection of an otaku. He is determined to achieve his ultimate goal: becoming the first ranked assassin in the United Assassin’s Association (UAA). His persistence is the result of an urge: Travis wants to prove himself. Prove himself to society. This is a reaction to the fear of rejection in a direct (or indirect) social environment. This social anxiety is quite common in the otaku culture. Travis is also doing his best to leave an impression on Silvia, his contact person at the UAA. This can be derived from the conversation after the boss fight with Death Metal for the tenth rank. Travis proposes to make love with Silvia “just once” after he becomes number one, at which Silvia answers with “maybe, maybe not.”

Travis has a persistent weakness towards women; not only for Silvia, but also for co-assassins within the UAA. Travis is merciless to his male opponents, but if his opponent is female his conscience plays an important role at the end of the battle. After the match for the eighth rank, he decides to let Shinobu escape on the condition that she’ll take revenge later on. Similarly, during the battle for sixth rank, Holly Summers detonates a grenade in her mouth before Travis can end the fight. While he is burying her he claims to love her soul. He retains a feeling of guilt.

The otaku subculture is often regarded as a group of anti-social people. A group which secludes itself from society – in other words, otakus are considered some kind of modern hermit. When these otakus are outside, they are shy and quiet. But it’s also possible that they feel a bit strange and unfamiliar. Travis is also such a modern hermit: one moment he’s naive and premature, while he proves to be intelligent at other moments, such as copying the complex moves from wrestling matches.

Illusions and family drama

killer7, the spiritual predecessor of No More Heroes, was aimed at political problems; No More Heroes is focused on social issues. But these games have also many similarities, like their status as cult video game. In No More Heroes, the intriguing story is the most significant reference to this status. The closer the player gets to the first place of the UAA, the more difficult it becomes to keep track of everything that’s actually happening. Initially, the game suggests that Travis has neither parents nor other family members. Later on, it becomes clear that Travis’ parents have been killed by Jeane, his childhood ‘love interest’. In the final moments of the game, everything should become clear. While the story advanced, the player made his own imaginary illustration of the plot and filled in the missing gaps with either question marks or own assumptions, but this carefully crafted image will be shortly destroyed. Shattered by a gigantic rock thrown by the insane mastermind of Goichi Suda. It appears the roles in the game are mostly filled by Travis’s family.

Before the final battle starts, Jeane helps to clarify Travis’ background. This comes as a surprise to both Travis and the player. Travis’s father left Jeane’s mother, which drives her to suicide. Travis’s father abused the situation by taking Jeane into custody and using her as a (sex) slave. This dereliction was Jeane’s motivation to take revenge. She prostituted herself to pay for her training as an assassin. As Travis’s father was always normal in front of Travis, she decided to kill Travis’ father in front of Travis’ eyes. Unaware of the situation, in short, Travis has been in love with his half sister.

After the fight with Jeane, Travis asks Silvia whether this is the end. The blonde, however, still kept the biggest surprises up her sleeve. It appears that the UAA is a fictitious organisation, her means of a higher income. For over ten years, she’s been married with Henry, the very final boss in No More Heroes. He appears to be the twin brother of Travis. Silvia and Henry have a daughter, named Jeane. Travis’ pet, a cat, is also named Jeane.

The final dialogue between Travis and Henry confuses many players. This is because the fourth wall is broken – within the context of the game. In other words, the characters aren’t talking directly to the player, but via Travis, who serves as a medium between Henry and the player. The following conversation happens while the brothers are running through Santa Destroy:

Henry: Let me ask. How do you plan to put an end to all of this?
Travis: Wait a sec. You want me to tie up all these loose ends? I don’t think so.
Henry: You’re the protagonist. I’m just a cool, handsome foil who happens to be your twin brother. Hate to say it, but it’s your job.
Travis: I want to bail, but where the hell’s the exit? There’s no way out, is there? No getting out… Right, bro?
Henry: That’s right. All we can do is keep running.
Travis: Then let’s find that exit they call Paradise.

If we take his conversation out of its context, it can be considered as a point of criticism towards gaming in general. Travis’ goal in No More Heroes could be achieved in one mere way: killing all assassins that blocked his way. Once he reached his goal, he turns around and looks back at the bloody trail he has left behind. He realizes it all has been pointless and that he’s been set up by Silvia, his sister-in-law (NB). I mean, what did Travis gain by achieving the first rank?

The point made by Goichi Suda

We could ask this very same question to most contemporary gamers. What does the player achieve in games? Let’s take a popular genre, like the multiplayer modes in first-person shooters, as an example: often, the main point in these matches to kill as much as possible enemies without getting shot yourself. At the end of a match, either a party or player is victorious. The scores are shown, erased shortly after and it starts over again. On the long term, what are the benefits of these repetitive experiences? The feeling of sensation will soon lose its uniqueness. Right?

In No more Heroes, this is being portrayed by Travis and Henry: running around through Santa Destroy for eternity without a goal. No real winner and no real ending. Travis mentions the “exit they call Paradise”, which can be considered a satirical metaphor aimed at video game addicts. There is just one way to get out of the vicious circle of gaming and achieve the exit they call Paradise: turn off your computer or console and step outside. Paradise: the world outside.

And that is the very message Goichi Suda wants to provide to the players who finish No More Heroes. In the real world, your deeds and choices are significant; what makes a human a human, and not a video game hero.

In retrospect, high school was a joke. Especially on havo (this is generally considered to be to ‘medium’ difficulty level, as if the education system is like a game) I managed to pass courses with the bare minimum amount of studying, like most of my friends. I would study for the subjects I was interested in, such as music class, and emphasize the final exam that got graded A- in my parents’ vicinity, disregarding the remaining C’s.

Although most of the exams were passed with some fragmented knowledge and masterful guessing, there was but one thing I was sure of: I wanted to study Japanese. I mastered the hiragana and katakana phonetic alphabets at the age of eleven and began practising kanji soon after. Leiden University happened to be the only place in the Netherlands where I would’ve been able to study both the language and its culture. The problem was, however, that I needed to finish the game called high school on the difficulty setting vwo, or ‘hard’.

At the beginning of the vwo phase I discovered something that I hadn’t encountered on havo before: a challenge. All of the sudden, the slumbering scholar within me awoke and made me do things I had never done before, such as learning in advance (rather than the evening prior) and finishing all of my homework. I found myself reading books again, thanks to my Kafka loving German teacher, and tried to aim for at least B’s. After the exams, I was sure that I passed vwo and went with friends on a well deserved trip to Prague, where, not entirely coincidentally, the same Kafka used to live.

The discipline I had developed and accumulated during vwo has been a life (or rather, study) saver during university. I could study non-stop. One track mind for real. Practising writing kanji until my hands hurt in the library. In the train homewards, I tried to memorize words as much as possible. At home, I ate and read texts on Japanese history and religion. The only thing that became between me and studying, were friends I hung out with. Playing games was reserved for holidays.

Before my final and third year started, I quitted my part-time job (I liked neither the work, nor the salary, nor the bosses) and applied for board member of the study association. I got the position and regretted it after only a month. Not because I didn’t like it, but because I simply couldn’t imagine that the third year would’ve become even busier than the second.

The first months, I spend at least seven days a week, about twelve hours a day on both studying and the study association. Knowing I wouldn’t have been able to keep this up until the end of the year, I decided I had to sacrifice something besides that awful part-time job. Girlfriend was out of the question and at that point, I already abandoned games, books and television. So I ended up deleting Windows Live Messenger, disabling Google Talk, logging out of Facebook and the various online forums I was an active member of.

The reason why I started writing this reflective introduction in the first place, is because I just finished reading Leo Babauta’s short book called ‘Focus’ my friend Vincent recommended and sent me. It’s about rearranging your life, getting rid of unnecessary distractions and the most efficient ways to improve your productivity. By just going offline, or ‘disconnected’ in Babauta’s words, I saved so much time that I actually managed to finish a game I started at least eighteen months before.

By lowering my online activity to a minimum, I also had more time and energy to do research, write more profound papers, and have (more) moments for myself. Occasionally, I would put my work away and, instead of booting up Google Chrome for aimless browsing and checking what friends have been doing five minutes ago, I’d make some tea and enjoy a good read.

Recently, my girlfriend and I gave up on living in small student lodgings when we found this beautiful apartment on the outskirts of town. I don’t know whether it is the nature that surrounds us or the rather humid air inside, but I haven’t had a single headache — something I used to suffer from at least once every two days for years.

This week I start pursuing my Master’s degree. Of course, I will retain my online inactivity. In addition, I will take regular breaks and take a stroll in the park nearby. This is inspiring and allows me to realign my thoughts, according to Babauta’s book. We’ll see. I might even start jogging.