by ETERNAL on February 15, 2010
[eltinidordediyablo]
I missed a lot of the buzz surrounding Gurren Lagann when it first aired. I knew about the drills and the dramatic quotes and episode 8, but that was it. It seemed like one of those shows that my friend was always talking about: big, colourful robots that fuse together and punch the lights out of other big, colourful robots. To be honest, I expected to hear cheesy brass-filled BGM when I finally watched it, and I was more focused on how over-the-top it was instead of on the story it was trying to tell.
Of course, it’s a bit late to be talking about a series as popular as this, but the pair of summary movies allowed me to see the story in a different light. It’s interesting to see how much sense it all makes when you’re not caught up with Kamina’s manliness and Yoko’s breasts. In fact, when I witnessed the epic conclusion for the second time, something clicked in my head that hadn’t clicked before.
by ETERNAL on January 14, 2010
[arsenixc]
Fiction would be in a sad state if jargon did not exist. In this case, I’m not referring to the fan-made terminology used in reference to various bodies of fiction: I’m talking about the jargon used within fiction, the internal laws that most fantasy and sci-fi stories rely on.
lelangir’s recent post on the matter makes for an enlightening read, exploring the role of mechanics in a story’s narrative structure. There’s no doubt that the internal mechanics of fictional worlds can be more than just feigned depth – speculative fiction would have a hard time speculating if it couldn’t act independently of the laws of common sense. As lelangir notes, consistency is more important than plausibility: it’s foolish to expect realism from Lord of the Rings, but a story that is consistent with itself lends the structure and framework needed to build whatever needs to be built around it.
Having said that, there are more than a few pitfalls to the elaborate universes created by writers of fiction, and they extend far beyond the issue of plot holes. The creation of a universe is not only a challenge in terms of maintaining consistency, but it also requires enough context within the plot for the viewer to see the relationship between the mechanics and the story’s intention.
by ETERNAL on November 23, 2009
If there’s one thing I can comfortably say about Fate/stay night, it’s that it’s been quite a ride. At almost 100 hours, my save file is 100% complete, leaving behind an aftertaste that is surprisingly bittersweet. For a story that initially appeared to be about gender-swapped heroes and awkward mana-charging metaphors, I can only say that I’m utterly impressed at how F/SN grows out of its shell and reaches both the mind and the heart.
Interestingly, there are also some elements of the game that are only obvious – or at least more visible – in hindsight. While it will always be a fantasy story at its core, the supernatural plot devices serve far more purpose than to simply feign depth with Nasuverse jargon. Looking closely (but not too closely), it’s easy to see the multiple levels of symbols and motifs that are scattered across the story, even if the plot doesn’t depend on them. Luckily for us, Nasu’s writing is fairly self-explanatory, and the various soliloquies and interludes, in addition to the surprisingly helpful afterword, help shed light on the “true” meaning of the game.
Sadly, it’s in the nature of posts like these to be purely conjecture, but while I don’t think that there is any black-and-white lens to view Fate/stay night through, I’ll do what I can to piece together the clues of this 800,000 word epic.
by ETERNAL on November 21, 2009
The grand finale of Type-Moon’s 50+ hour epic is not quite what one would expect. Coming after the dramatic battle of ideals in Unlimited Blade Works and the story of the fallen warrior and the king of heroes in Fate, it’s hard to imagine what kind of climax could do justice to the buildup.
Thankfully, Heavens Feel fills those shoes with ease.
In retrospect, though, there was something more to my enjoyment of the story than the simple fact that it ’s a well-written conclusion. It touched me emotionally in a way that no Type-Moon work has. It’s hard to define it with a word, but there was something in particular that resonated with me in HF, something that has little to do with filling in the back story and tying in the themes. It’s the one thing that makes visual novels hit or miss, the often deciding factor that draws the line between melodramatic and heart-wrenching. It’s the difference between observing Shirou’s struggle as a fly on the wall and observing it as a participant.
by ETERNAL on September 5, 2009
What is a hero? A miserable pile of ideals? Wikipedia defines the word as a person who selflessly and courageously faces danger for the sake of a greater good, while it defines superhero as a person who protects the weak and innocent by fighting evil. Heroes are ubiquitous in fiction, long before the days of Superman; the concept of heroism extends into the days of mythology, when the world was a radically different place.
Thus, it’s only fitting that Emiya Shirou, the main protagonist of Fate/stay night, should share something in common with these summoned heroes that he must fight alongside and against. His wish is to become a superhero, to save everyone and eliminate the need for sacrifice. It’s a naive ideal at first, possibly as frustrating to the reader as it is to Tohsaka Rin, but the moral battle grows ambiguous when the red knight arrives to play Devil’s Advocate.
by ETERNAL on August 19, 2009
The time it takes to pick up on the structure of the average VN is more or less equal to the time needed to realize that Key will either make you cry or die trying. Whether it’s in the recurring truths of the anime adaptations, where the Little Sister Always Wins and the harem lead is a veritable failure, or in the basic tree trunk/branch analogy that’s used throughout the medium, it goes without saying to visual novel fans that the structure holds little surprise. Such familiarity with the way VNs are written and programmed can help when playing a game for the first time, aiming for the route you want, but the repetition can work against itself. So, how can visual novels maintain a standard branching or linear storyline and not be utterly predictable in terms of structure? At the very least, I’m sure the writers of Brass Restoration know the answer to that question.
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