The Dual Perspectives of Saya no Uta

I won’t bother praising Saya no Uta outright: a quick glance at its ratings should tell you a thing or two about the quality of the story, without even factoring in its reputation. My Nitro+ experience is currently limited to this game and the Chaos;Head anime, which most people would rather forget, so I’m not sure how Saya compares to their other stories, but suffice to say it does a good job of electrocuting the mind more efficiently than a Satoshi Kon film.

In retrospect, however, the story contains a strange kind of tenderness to it; a sort of delicate interior beneath the harsh, rotting-flesh-coated exterior. Most wouldn’t notice it initially – or at least I couldn’t, considering my sanity was severely compromised at the time of playing – but there’s a bit to be said about the game after one has finished it, and after they learn the startlingly innocent truth behind the game’s namesake.

Don’t ask. Just don’t.

I don’t think I need to say that the game is scary. The definition of “scary” would vary from person to person, I suppose, and there are probably a few of you trained from horror movies that are willing to bet that you can read through the entire game without so much as a cringe; and who knows, you might be right. But that doesn’t change the fact that the game is twisted, disturbing, and the heart-pounding suspense as your hero descends into insanity is easily the greatest attraction of it all.

While we’re on that topic, it’s worth pointing out that the game’s punch to the gut is made much stronger by the fact that the story is shown from two perspectives. At first, Fuminori appears to be the victim of a horrendous tragedy – which is nothing but the truth, really – and that, combined with the fact that you play as him, leads the viewer to see him as the “hero.” He certainly is the main character, but hero is an ambiguous word in this game. The constant switching back and forth between perspectives allows the player to maintain at least some sense of reality, forcing them not to see things from Fuminori’s narrow perspective (or, from that matter, solely from the humans’ perspective). That’s what leads to the first decision point being one of the most interesting I’ve ever seen, in this game or elsewhere: whose side should you choose? Does the demon return to the human world, and be cast out from society? Or does he live on forever in his own twisted universe?

If you knew what he was going through, you wouldn’t blame him for looking like that.

Vaguely reminiscent of Raphael’s story in the Soul Calibur series, to pull a random reference, I’d say that Fuminori’s descent into insanity is the crux of the story. Without that, the suspense wouldn’t exist. Without the discovery that he ate his friend’s flesh and enjoyed it, there would be no terror. And, of course, without his decisions made near the end of the game, there would be no need for the viewer to change their opinion or question their decisions. It’s a well-crafted story, when you think of it, considering that it could have degenerated into a simple gory horror if the writers chose to force you into Fuminori’s (or worse yet, Kouji’s) shoes; the distinction between Human and Monster would kill the game’s psychological tension.

But enough about Fuminori. He’s crazy, and he’s got his reasons for being crazy, but we already know that. What about Saya?

Saya is where things really get interesting, because the reader hardly notices her during the game. True, she has her dialogue and her H-scenes, but beyond the initial mystery of who the hell is she and why does she act so human?!, she doesn’t get much development. Most of the story falls on Fuminori’s shoulders, with Saya acting as the glue to hold everything together. But when you find out what she really is, the story changes in ways that are completely irrelevant, yet intriguing.

Look at it this way: Saya is an alien. A plant-monster, if you will, or maybe a demon or a mutant, or whatever suits your fancy, but the point is, she’s a living being from another world. Sounds familiar? It’s only been done, I don’t know, a few thousand times in science fiction. The monster from the space, the beast that begins as an innocent child, until it matures…and when it reaches its final stage of evolution, it develops the power to destroy the human race and steal the Earth’s resources for its home planet. When you look at it literally, Saya no Uta is just another variation of your average sci-fi movie.

However, this is where things change. Much like with Fuminori’s insanity, which is bolstered by looking at the situation from two distinct perspectives, Saya’s life as a “monster” is deepened by perspective. In this case, we don’t get to see anything of her homeland, but we already know their goal: just like the human empires in the old days that raced across the Earth, killing in the name of land, these foreign creatures want nothing more and nothing less than to conquer. They’re not all that different from us, probably. And that’s just it: they’re not all that different from us, especially if one of them were raised among us! Scientists have discovered some interesting things related to Feral humans, right? Maybe Saya isn’t all that different. As a matter of fact, it’s hardly even a theory; it’s a proven fact within the story that only becomes evident when you look back on it with a clear mind.

As they said, Saya was a child, first and foremost. An alien, yes, but also a child. She wanted to learn. She wanted to do her duty. But what have us humans been theorizing for centuries? Something about blissful ignorance, and the innate evil within the human mind? I think evil might be the wrong way of putting it, but the point is that Saya absorbed the ability to think when she studied human culture. She evolved – or devolved, depending on your perspective – and she was unable to perform her duty and reproduce mercilessly in order to seize control of the planet.

Before she could reproduce, she wanted something. She wanted the same thing that humans want.

Love.

I’ll try not to jump on this one too hard, but it was a sweet thought at the end of such a cruel, tumultuous story, to think that the destruction of the planet was a result of love. Perhaps “sweet” isn’t the right word, but when you’re struck with the thought of watching the human race being wiped out day by day (an instance in which the ever-present Bad Guys win, something that doesn’t usually happen in generic sci-fi), it’s hard to not feel a shred of emotion when you realize that there are two people on the planet that have never been happier. And, truth be told, they were both perfectly sane. Fuminori was crazy by the standards set by human society, but in reality, his brain had forced him into a different world: all he did was adapt to that world.

In the end, the picture above describes Saya perfectly. It’s oddly fitting that her grotesque self was portrayed as an innocent young girl, beyond the obvious lolicon factor, because the thing is, that’s exactly what she is. When she became “human”, she was cast away, because she was an alien in their – our – world. She was alone, just like any homeless girl on the street, without anyone or anything to rely on. That was why Fuminori came as such a relief to her: she saved him, in a sense, but he undoubtedly saved her. They were two aliens in a cold, dark world, but together, they were able to create a world just for themselves. It was unfortunate for the human race, I suppose, but since when was nature kind? How many species have human beings wiped out, and how many were destroyed before we even arrived?

But in the end, like with most visual novels, the bittersweet aftertaste lies with the characters. At the end of Fuminori’s twisted journey, we’re left with a dystopia for one race and a utopia for the other. Once more, it’s all about perspective (something that Nitro+ appears to be quite good at). The hatred and fear for Saya’s kind burns out by the time the credits roll, and after seeing her as the innocent child that she is portrayed as, I find it hard to look back at her with dismay. She was merely a girl who wanted to be loved, and Fuminori was a lost man in need of salvation. Together, they created a perfect world.

That’s what the game is, really: distorted on the outside, but sweet on the inside. Just like Saya herself.

~ ETERNAL
つづく

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