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Culture, videogames and anime
Contents:
There are other things that we want to create
 - Bladerunner + casual misogyny = Policenauts?
Hideo Kojima is, of course, most famous for the Metal Gear series, but he has made one or two other videogames of note. This would include Snatcher in 1988 for the PC-8801 and MSX2, the Boktai series for the GBA and DS, Zone of Enders in 2001 for the PS2, and Policenauts.
Policenauts was originally released in 1994 for the PC-9821, but was later ported to the 3DO and Playstation. It was never released in the UK or the US, and an official English translation was started, but aborted with Kojima claiming that the programmers were struggling to sync the English dub to the lip movements of the animations. Nevertheless, a fan translation was recently finished by some extremely clever people at www.policenauts.net (the patch is available here, and a documentary about the translation can be seen here). I had read about this project a couple of years ago, but only became aware that it was complete when I read a retrospective in GamesTM.
Why aren’t I doing anything?
Policenauts is set in broadly the same universe as the Metal Gear games, and is often seen as a kind of sequel to Snatcher. Like that title, Policenauts is more a work of interactive fiction than a videogame. You wander around, ask everyone about everything, click on everything until there is nothing more to click on, and wait for the next cut scene to kick in. Then, when the cut scene kicks in, you wait for it to end so you can get back to clicking on everything again.
But then, anyone who’s played a Metal Gear Solid game knows there tends not to be much interaction in Hideo Kojima titles. And in this respect, Policenauts probably represents the quintessential Kojima game. Kojima has always struck me as a game designer who would much rather be making movies, and Policenauts is practically that. The FMV sequences in particular are fantastic – with proper cell-drawn anime in the Playstation version.
So what’s it about actually?
The plot, inevitably, is a convoluted one. It revolves around Johnathon Ingram; part of a team of policemen trained as astronauts – the Policenauts – who were tasked with keeping the peace in the first space colony. There is an accident and Johnathon is lost in cryogenic sleep for 25 years. When he is eventually found and woken the world is very different. His Policenauts team have gone their separate ways, and his wife is married to another man.
Overall, the story is excellent; concerned with political corruption, narcotics, corporate machinations and film-noir betrayal. It has overtones of Bladerunner mixed up with Lethal Weapon (with the two main characters designed to look very similar to Mel Gibson and Danny Glover).
So much for the good stuff…
But the game has two significant flaws. Firstly, in the occasions when you are tasked with actually doing something – light-gun sequences where you need to shoot the bad guys and avoid the civilians. Here the sedate investigative pace is suddenly thrown aside and the difficulty dramatically increased. What is frustrating is that by this stage you are involved in the story, and to be thwarted by your own uselessness hardly seems fair.
What’s wrong with being sexy?
The main problem is with the female characters, and it’s here that you begin to think you understand why it was never translated for a Western audience. It is terribly misogynistic and whilst I don’t believe female characters are ever particularly substantial in Japanese anime or videogames, the women in Policenauts are awful; falling into one of three types:
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Femme fatales, in the Basic Instinct mould (in case you thought we were talking Raymond Chandler here)
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Cute little sister types (the word is moe)
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Vacuous sex objects
What is particularly disconcerting is the way the game provides options for you to touch these girls up. Click on the chesticular area and the ‘touch’ option appears – click again and they wobble (with accompanying sound effects). What takes this into the absurd that the women barely bat an eyelid at your molestations. The furthest they ever go is to say ‘this sort of thing could be viewed as sexual harrasment’, surely a contender for the understatement of 2013.
The result is that you feel that Johnathon Ingram is the sort of pervert that really ought to be on some kind of register, rather than out solving major crimes. The only exception is Metal Gear regular Meryl Silverburgh – who at the very least can take care of herself. But even she will let you feel her up if you can beat her at target practice.
Not sexy…sexist
Whilst in the West I think we can be a bit po-faced about this sort of thing generally, it’s hard to see what Kojima was aiming at. The truth is that Policenauts’ treatment of women is not particularly funny, is completely out of keeping with the tone of the story, and is slightly embarassing in a creepy old man in trenchcoat kind of way.
It’s a shame as Policenauts has a lot to recommend it – just not to the ladies perhaps.
Like a stroll in the woods
 - Goblins be thine?
I had intended to write this entry yesterday for Halloween after having rewatched Ring, but settled down with a box of shortbread bat biscuits to watch Sam Raimi’s Drag me to hell instead. Whilst that was an enjoyable film, I know that it won’t leave the same lasting impression on me that Ring did.
In some ways, I feel that I won’t ever need to watch Ring again, so completely has it wrapped its nasty yellow nailless fingers around my brain (which means buying the DVD was a waste of money). And the fact that it managed to do so with so little gore, so few cheap shocks, and on a 12 BBFC rating still astounds me. Though any parent that would take a 12 year old to see Ring is completely sick in the head. Sit them down to watch Evil Dead 2 – they’ll realise that ultraviolence is funny.
The plot for Ring revolves around a TV journalist investigating an urban myth of a cursed videotape; if you watch it you’ll die within seven days. She interviews a young girl who claims to have seen the videotape, and the girl dies shortly afterwards. She tracks down the tape to a rented cabin the young stayed in and, in typical stupid horror movie protaganist style, watches the tape.
I’m sure that if you haven’t seen the film you’ll be thinking, “this just sounds rubbish”. And I’ve had a hard time convincing people to see this film. When I first saw it, I had to literally drag my girlfriend crying into the cinema.
But I remember being sat surrounded by a kind of static electricity, so strong was the sense of other peoples’ fear. My girlfriend, who you will have realised is no great fan of Japanese cinema, clung to my arm for the whole film. I had never been to see a film before where there were so many loud “oh god”’s from different people in the audience, and the only film that has delivered the same feeling since was its sequel.
Ring kick-started film-goers interest in horror films again, after the ironic post-modern teen films like Scream had threatened to kill them off. It sparked an sudden interest in Japanese film-making, particularly in J-horror, with films like Audition, Ju-on: The Grudge and Ring’s director’s Dark Water also having success in the West. It also spawned a number of inferior American remakes, which I haven’t bothered watching because my brother told me that they have a scene where a horse commits suicide.
Ring isn’t without its flaws. Aside from the somewhat hocky plot, there are some particularly odd choices for the English subtitled translation. The real stand-out poor decision is the creepy nursery-rhyme mantra recited over the cursed videotape, “Shoumon bakkari shiteru to, boukon ga kuru zo” which means “Play in the water too much, and the monster will get you”. This is translated in the subtitles as “Frolic in brine, goblins be thine”. You can see what they tried to do, but “goblins” just don’t conjure up much menace. [Incidentally, I'm not super-clever at translating Japanese, I just looked it up on the Internet.]
So what is it about Ring that makes it so special? It’s certainly well-directed by Hideo Nakata, and the score makes creepy use of strings to great effect. But I think that the menace of Ring comes from the way that it updates Japanese folklore. Ring is fundamentally a fairy-story – with cursed objects and ghosts – and it is the way that this is projected into a real world contemporary setting that I think is so disturbing. All fairy-tales are brutal and ugly, but are distanced from us with a simple use of “once upon a time” or “a long time ago”. Ring breaks this spell, treating everyday objects like videotapes and televisions in the same way as magic swords or flying carpets.
The film explores the dark places in the real world, where we secretly all believe evil magic things could still survive. Cabins in forests, the crawl-space under your house and dank wells. Brilliantly though, it also explores those times when those nasty things could creep into our houses; when the lights are off and there’s just the flicker of static on the television. And as the final killer blow, it gives us Sadako, a monstrous little girl with dank wet hair and worn down fingernails. A poisonous reminder of the times when we think that the devil-things could be hiding inside us, or our loved ones; when we can’t read their expression, when their hair covers their face, when they are hidden behind a blanket or a towel. Ring turns everything around us into treachery.
This was ably demonstrated to me when I got back to my girlfriend’s house after watching Ring 2 with her and one of her girlfriends (she loved Ring by the way which just proves that I’m always right). Her friend had gone upstairs to get ready for bed. The TV was on, but I was flicking through the channels and it was resting on static. The lights in the hallway were off, so the only light came from the TV. Her friend came out of her room wearing a white nightdress, with long black hair covering her face.
I tell you what, I screamed like girl.
Best of both worlds
 Resistance is futile Sink into circuitry, drift into dream,
Forget about duty, Let down your guard.
Locutus, you’re safe now.
When you were young you played with dolls
But your father said, “boy you’re all grown up”
And replaced them with soldiers.
You sat in your room, and cursed him
Kicking the bedroom door, and hating
His earl grey perfume. You swore then
“I’ll never grow up to be like you”.
On the day of his funeral it rained
Your aunt said, “you’re the man of the house”
And replaced childhood with order
You gathered your things, to sit at the helm
But in your heart was a worm
And you grew tired so quickly
Electric sirens calling you
To break upon their rocks
Become piston to our engine
Become helmsman to our ship
Relax Shiver Relax Locutus
Enter, stranger!
 Ooh! Nasty!
When putting together a few words to welcome readers (ha!) over from my aborted attempt on wordpress.com I started thinking about one of my favourite television shows from the 80’s, Knightmare.
Now, it’s become a bit cliqued to say ‘childrens TV was better in the eighties’, but the fact remains that old sods like myself will forever inflict their half-remembered nostalgia on those unfortunate enough to be younger than us; like mad toothless old women, drooling and muttering incoherrently as we thrust endless Werther’s Originals onto the hands of youngsters.
Knightmare was a British childrens TV show that ran between ‘87 and ‘94. It was a sort of game show, with a fantasy setting, where children would be invited to make fools of themselves for the amusement of a bearded older gentleman by the name of Treguard and his pixie “chum”.
Four children would come on to the show as a team, with one put forward as the Dungeoneer. Whilst this role might sound exciting it actually involved wearing a dustbin on your head as a blindfold. The three remaining youngsters would sit in front of a TV showing the Dungeoneer and his blue-screened fantasy surroundings and guide him, whilst Treguard and the pixie would sit and sneer.
Every lad in the eighties wanted to get on Knightmare, and whilst I was no different I generally found myself on the side of Treguard, as the kids that went on the show were terrific nerds, and usually idiots. I can only ever remember one team winning the show and the vast majority died within about 10 minutes.
It was always the same. The show would begin with a booming “Enter, stranger!” from Treguard as a new batch of bright-eyed hopefuls crept nervously in, pressing their bottle-rim glasses to their foreheads and clutching at clipboards like teddybears. You’d sigh with envy as the Dungeoneer donned the “Helmet of Justice”, his chest puffed up with pride. Then you’d cover your eyes as he made his way into the world, only to be kicked off the show because of this sort of blunder:
The Dungeoneer walks into what looks like an empty medieval town-square. A toothy crone is sat at a table selling her wares.
Treguard [leaning urgently forward in his chair]: Be careful team – a dragon roams this realm.
Dungeoneer: Where am I?
1st advisor: You’re in a room. There’s a woman. Sidestep to your left.
He is directed to stand in front of the table.
Dungeoneer: On the table I can see a twig, and a sword. The sword has a label attached to it which reads ‘use this to kill the dragon’.
Crone [most likely cackling]: Take thee you may, only one of twain.
Dungeoneer: Which should I take?
There is much conferring between the advisors. Eventually an agreement is reached with a clear nod from all three.
2nd advisor: Take the twig.
My sword is unbelievably dull
 If you had a convenience store then I would live with you. Garzey’s Wing is a Japanese anime, which was a flop on its original release in 1996 but has subsequently gone on to achieve a measure of cult notoriety. The series was written and directed by Yoshiyuki Tomino (the creator of Gundam) and revolves around a half Japanese teenager named Chris who is taken to another world and told he is a holy warrior.
The point about Garzey’s Wing is that it is, in my opinion, the absolute worst anime series ever made.
The animation in Garzey’s Wing is fine, as is the music. The plot, though sometimes a bit rushed, is no worse than a lot of other similar anime OVAs. I have never managed to watch it all the way through to the end, so I couldn’t tell you about the awesomeness of the final showdown. What raises this series above all others is the sublime majesty of its dialogue. Simply put, it is terrible.
To be kind to Yoshiyuki Tomino, it is likely that something is lost in the English translation. But even that can’t explain sections like this:
Chris lands in an alien world, naked, for no reason. He has been taken there by a invisible giant duck (this is never explained). There are dinosaurs. He is disappointed with the quality of his sword. In a conversation with another version of himself he breaks down the situation.
I was bruised all over my body
because I had to fight naked.
There is a war going on
Even, dinosaurs are here…
And they use bows and arrows
My sword is unbelievably dull.
I’m not joking! 12th, 13th century
foreigners surround me
I must somehow makes sense
of our convoluted situation!
Exposition is frequently handled with this kind of deft and subtle touch, making skillful use of nonsense and non-sequitors:
It is the evil despot’s palace. We know he is evil because he has a beard and drinks wine badly. A camp looking knight rides up to the palace, even though he is told specifically by the guard that he is not allowed to bring horses in. He is obviously a maverick. He jumps off his horse and kneels before the king. His horse dies unexpectedly and without explanation.
King Fungun: Oh! You came back Zagizoa!
Zagizoa (for it is he): Please forgive my rudeness I’ve been troubled by this incident.
Which incident is he talking about? We will never know.
King Fungun: How come you have returned from your war with the savage western tribe?
Zagizoa: It’s a leap year.
What does he mean???
But the real magic comes from the fact that this woeful misuse of the English language is then read verbatim by its dub voice-over actors. Whoever directed the voice cast was able to ring great subtlety from their performances; their bold decision to use no emotion other than apathy to deliver lines that they clearly don’t understand, pays off immeasurably. Never have characters appeared to be in so much trouble or pain and yet sounded so much like they were bored.
This is best showcased in the first 5 minutes of the show, which is a whirlwind of flat delivery and unexplained plot elements. We learn in the first few minutes that Chris has failed his exams twice (he is clearly a maverick), is obsessed with attending the class reunion pool party (this will become a recurring theme) and that his girlfriend is aggressive, and emphasises the wrong words in sentences. Pay particular close attention to the discreet use of subtitles to help English viewers understand what a shrine looks like.
I think Garzey’s Wing offers great comfort to all writers, film-makers, story-tellers, actors and artists. You couldn’t possibly be as bad as this is.
Use the escape route we originally planned
 Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end: Then stop Beginnings are difficult things to get right. The first words committed to paper, or typed into a keyboard, can feel like pushing against a great weight (already on this introduction I have deleted more sentences than I have saved).
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