|
|||||||||
| panda-like calm through fiction | |||||||||
|
Crying Games
|
|||||||||
|
As a note, this story was originally published in real time on the blog http://visuallynovel.wordpress.com/, and I would encourage everyone to read it there (with additional Twitter accompaniment http://twitter.com/VirNovUS). But if you prefer, a somewhat edited version appears below:
Hello world! Posted on August 18, 2010 by visuallynovel | This is a placeholder while I draft and then likely redraft an introduction. I was going to delete the canned post title that came with the blog, but “Hello world!” sounds so cheerful and sunny, with the birds tweetering outside. I think I’ll let it stay for the moment. But what you need to know for now is: I’m a writer, and I’m working on an English language visual novel. Introductions Posted on August 19, 2010 by visuallynovel | Okay, I’m feeling lazy tonight, (edit: or, I guess since the sun is now up, this morning), so I’m not going to waste precious writing time redrafting my intro. I’ll just assume you know who I am (or why else would you be reading this, anyway?). I’m sure the first thing that I have to explain to you, just as it’s the first thing I had to explain to my mother, is what a visual novel is. Basically, a visual novel is a hybrid of a comic book and a cartoon. There are fewer pictures and backgrounds, both of which get reused (which usually effects the setting). It mostly involves static characters on a background, with text displayed at the bottom; often the dialog is voiced. Often, but not necessarily, pornographic. I’m working with the very talented (and very strange) Aang, whose English is strangely more broken in person than on his Twitter feed. You may know him as a developer/producer of a few of the better visual novels to come out of Japan recently. He’s staying stateside for the production, which he believes is the first visual novel produced in America for domestic consumption. Until the contract comes back to Aang, they don’t want me saying exactly who the artist is, but it’s someone you’re going to recognize, and someone who you’ll be almost as stoked as I am is on this project. That sentence seems overlong; don’t tell my editor I’m a lousy writer (otherwise I think I’m safe; I think he’s incapable of reading something longer than 140 characters that isn’t illustrated with pictures of women in scantily-drawn outfits). As you can see I’ve chosen the tried and true “Digg-like” theme for the blog; at this point it doesn’t even qualify as classic, just boring (and my mom still wonders why I didn’t become a graphic designer out of school- apparently the fact that my drawing ability never really progressed beyond the grade school crayon drawings she used to put up on the fridge wasn’t enough to dissuade her). Whatever, I like it. And that’s it so far. I’ll keep you up to speed on how things are progressing. I’m hoping that, soon, I’ll be able to put out that announcement on the artist; I can say that he’s already turned in character sketches and some thumbnails, and it’s amazing work. There, hopefully your collective appetites have been whet (whetted?). Never let it be said I haven’t written you hard and left you whet (I know, even I’m a little ashamed of that, and I’m practically shameless). Sounds Like Duck Penis Posted on August 20, 2010 by visuallynovel | My mom asked me a question yesterday after reading the blog, which, she might be the only one at this point, but anyway she asked me what Aang’s last name was. I had no idea. He’d just introduced himself to me as Aang. So I asked him if he actually had a last name, or if he just had a first name, like Cher. He said, “No, not like Cher! I just don’t like my last name. Sounds too much like ‘duck penis.’” He refused to elaborate further; I think the mystery might be better than whatever the truth could ever be. But that wasn’t all that my mom wanted to talk to me about. She Googled “visual novel” and within a couple of clicks came upon the term “hentai.” It’s fair to say that visual novels, as I said in my last post, are often of an erotic or pornographic nature. But that did not prepare me for the verbal onslaught coming off of my mother. She’s apparently very worried for my soul. Which is odd, because there hasn’t been a hard decision on adult elements in our story. I mean, I’m not against it, and Aang is pretty gung ho, and even our artist who is fairly slow in getting any balls rolling has been enthusiastic about the idea. But it isn’t settled. The story I want to tell can have erotic elements, I suppose it does, but whether those play offscreen or on hasn’t been decided. And I don’t understand that revulsion at all erotica. I don’t think I’m going to convert my mom on this point, but even when I tried to explain that if we pursued sexual elements, it would be done tastefully, and in a manner where any of those themes were integral to the story (not boobs for the sake of boobs- though Aang tells me that can be an excellent selling point). I know a part of her reaction came from clicking through to some “examples” of Japanese erotica, and, you know, that does explain some of it. I know why Japanese erotica evolved the way it did. The country outlawed certain aspects of sexuality, so erotica evolved ways to circumvent the censorship. Can’t show male genitalia? Tentacles are basically the same, but don’t run afoul of the law. The humiliations involved in Japanese erotica often get a bad wrap, too, but if we’re honest we’d admit they tend to stay this side of hardcore BDSM, and frankly, that kind of culture is relative; what’s good for the goose in North America isn’t necessarily good for a gander that evolved in Eurasia. Japan might be the country that invented Rapelay, but it still has far lower occurrences of sex crimes (even per capita) than we do, so it’s hard to claim any moral superiority there. Which is not to say that I’m defending all Japanese erotica ever. Some of it is deplorable. So is a lot of Western erotica, too, if we’re honest. But the problem I have is when people conflate the content with the genre. Because visual novels are a genre as well as a medium. And whether or not our visual novel embraces the sexual tropes of the genre or eschews them, it doesn’t have to be antifeminist, it doesn’t have to be pedophilic, it doesn’t have to sexualize excretory functions or do any of the other things that creep me out that do seem to have become staples of the Japanese form. That’s part of why Aang and I wanted to do this. Because Japanese visual novels are created for that culture and society; we don’t get a lot of what’s in them, and it’s unfair and unrealistic to expect that we would. On a side note, even in Japan the visual novel has been evolving. They started out as nukige, masturbation games, but the industry has started to shift and many visual novels are no more erotic than your standard romance novel. In fact, their ability to produce emotion has become their most stand-out factor, which is why visual novels are often called nakige now, crying games. We still mostly import nukige, because in a niche market like this where it’s already hard to make a buck, and particularly where the audience is both emotionally stoic in our John Wayne fashion and corrupted by the expectations of the genre, it’s a hard sell for emotionally compelling work to be translated. Nakige’s a genre that doesn’t exist in Western culture, except as the occasional imports. But an import is always going to be a little bit culturally wrong, because even if you scrub all the erotic elements out of it, the experience is still very definitely foreign. So mom, and everybody else, that may not change your minds, but hopefully at least it helps you understand a little more about it, about what we’re attempting, and where we’re coming from. Bomb the Harbor Posted on August 21, 2010 by visuallynovel | In a conversation that started with a reference to Aang bombing my mother’s harbor, I got some asstastic news. Apparently, Aang’s executive producer, a money guy, has been flaking on him. Aang’s worked with him on his last couple of projects, but all of a sudden the guy’s trying to both not contribute the amounts of money he pledged to the project and increase his own take in the event of success; if he’d been kicking a puppy while doing that he’d have pulled off a d bag hat trick. And in similar, controversy-baiting news, a local church has decided I’ve been sent here by the devil to taint their youth. One of them even sent a police officer to my home, swearing that someone in my house was an unregistered sex offender (and if these weren’t Podunk cops that showed up, I imagine that person would have been looking at a false statement charge for it); see, I’m the only one living in my house. I’ve never been convicted of anything (I don’t think they convict you of traffic infractions, technically), nor even ever charged with anything beyond said traffic snafus. I actually woke up this morning to an angry soccer mom (violating all the cougar-ish qualities I’m reliably informed by the internet and that song “Stacey’s Mom” that they’re supposed to have) perched on my porch steps with a sign that said, “Proudly making porn for children, starring children.” Of course, I only noticed the sign afterwards. My first inkling she was there at all was when I opened the door and she yelled: “Baby rapist. I hope they send you to prison so that someone can rape you.” I responded by saying I was looking for the paper, and that normally I’d offer her a cup of coffee, but I was afraid she’d throw it in my crotch. To be fair, because of where I was on the stoop, and the fact that she was a good bit shorter than me, and the normal arc of a human arm, crotch is about where she would have hucked any coffee; I wasn’t just being filthy. Though I kind of wish I had. I mean, this woman was on my fucking porch; I wish I hadn’t been bleary-eyed, that I’d had my fire up and could have responded in some matter of kind (I’m not sure what that might mean- I mean, how do you respond to someone being so completely uncivil on your porch step?). I did, however, remember to tell her she’d need to retreat to the sidewalk to continue her protest. I hoped she’d protest the move, because I had a great follow-up, since my coffee had started kicking in, along the lines of, “I’d hate to have the police cart you away. See, I was thinking of getting a lawn gnome, but you seem more lifelike, and marginally less creepy.” Now let me reiterate: Japanese erotica has gone into some dark, dark places. I’m not advocating for that. I’m not okay with it, even. Pedophilia and rape are nonstarters, for me; I’m a writer, so I love the free speech as much as Rush Limbaugh loves cigars (mmm, Freudian!), but I’d honestly have trouble mustering a word in defense of those two particular subjects in erotica, and I would never include them in my own work. Period. Full stop. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, go directly to jail and choke on a toilet seat. But, um, aside from all of that vitriol (which will probably be deleted the next day I don’t wake up to an ignorant protest at my door), is that apparently this is why we can’t have nice things. Because now every single facet of the culture needs to be sanitized for consumption by 5 year olds. Rather than acknowledge that some things are adult, and are all right for adults to do and say or have done to them in the privacy of their homes. So either grow up, or get ready to enjoy the “edgy” TV-Y7 Law & Order: Spongebob Tickle Patrol. A Talking To Posted on August 22, 2010 by visuallynovel | I was told by my mother that it was unnecessary and rude for me to comment on the non-MILF’s appearance, and in that regard, she is correct. However, I would point out that I also did not describe why I found her unappealing, which was far kinder than she probably deserved. Still, I may have veered a bit off the middle road into a prickish territory. I’m sorry to all moms (soccer or otherwise) and nonmoms alike: women are more than their physical appearance, and I wanted to make no declaration in that direction. And just because that particular woman also seemed to be showing she had the capacity to be ugly on the inside, doesn’t mean that she might not also be a good wife/mother/oral hygienist/husband/lover/vacuumer, something. [Hopefully, most of you are smart enough to understand satire, and that women are equally deserving of respect and opportunity in society as men, and that misogyny is funny only because it highlights the ignorance inherent in a misogynistic worldview]. Also, is anyone else surprised by how much sway my mom seems to have? What’s weird is she hasn’t really told me what to do in ten years (well, except when she tried to force me to believe abortion was wrong- no, that’s not exactly right, that believing that abortion isn’t an issue for government and should be left up to individuals to decide for themselves, that that stance was wrong). I guess she just feels strongly about this- though I would say she, and my protestors, feel strongly so far over what amounts to nothing. I suppose, for people a little familiar with the usual style of visual novels, I’ve asked the artist, and spoken to Aang who definitely agrees, that making sure we depict the characters as definitively adult, whatever the eventual content of the story, is paramount. I’ll be the first to admit the (nearly) “every female character looks 14” aspect of visual novels is creepy, given that even when they don’t center around sex there’s usual some amount of sensuality involved. Creepy. And exactly the kind of thing we want to avoid. Otherwise I would have just learned Japanese and tried to get a job in the Japanese market. Nakige Posted on August 24, 2010 by visuallynovel | I’m sorry if this comes of as masturbatory; hopefully someone out there will find it a fascinating insight into the writerly mind. But I feel like I’m finally getting the characters. That might sound weird, given how far along in the process I am. But every story, every character, begins as an abstract idea. You jot a few concepts down on paper, the sketch if you will of who that person is. At first you’re faking it, learning to walk in somebody else’s shoes without falling over, but as you go, it starts to feel more and more organic, until it isn’t you pretending to be someone else; you start to feel their voice in your head. Sometimes characters even tell you you’re a moron, that they wouldn’t say or do something the way you wanted them to, and you have to change things- occasionally big things that change the way a story happens. I’m not a huge softy. I don’t say that because I think real men don’t cry; I also don’t subscribe to the contrary, that only real men are comfortable enough with themselves to cry. I just don’t cry that often- not even at funerals for people I really cared about. But when I write something that hits me, I do cry. I don’t blubber, but some of my best work has been written with tears streaming down my cheeks. It’s almost always a sign that I’ve found that emotional moment the character lives in, touched it in a way that to me at least is real, and hopefully captured enough of that to make the moment resonate with the audience. I’m more excited than I’ve ever been about this project (though not erection excited, that’s nukige- I know, the terms are irritatingly similar; blame the Japanese). Mom Posted on August 25, 2010 by visuallynovel | You don’t know me, but most of you, if you’ve been reading the blog so far, have heard of me- as mom- but my name is Diane. My son’s house burned down a night ago. He didn’t make it out. A Fox affiliate carried a story quoting a fire inspector saying that it’s likely that the fire was started by someone, here (edit: since removed). The gist of the article was the inspector believed he found accelerants, though lab testing would be necessary to confirm. In light of the circumstances, and my son’s recent confrontations with members of a local church, only some of which did he mention in print, I can only assume that the two are related. Now, my son could be a pain in the ass; he often enjoyed being a pain in the ass. But he was caring, thoughtful. I was wrong, to assume that what he was doing was going to hurt people, to hurt him. Because it wasn’t what he was doing at all; it was the reaction of people who didn’t care enough about the truth to find out what was going on. They just wanted something to be angry about, something they could react to so they didn’t feel so powerless about everything else. I don’t know if what he was doing was right. I believe in my heart that Jesus wanted something better for my son… but I can’t believe that he would have done something like this if he didn’t feel it would make someone’s life better, if only for a little bit, and that he didn’t believe with everything in him it wasn’t going to hurt anyone. I wanted to come on here, full of rage and fire and heartache because I lost my son- because one of you, out there, thought that what he was doing was so wrong that he deserved to die by fire. But I reread through what he’d written, not just on the blog, but in the novel itself, and in other things scattered around. And at times my son was angry. At times he was passionate to a fault. But he was honest. And if I’m honest, I’m more upset at myself than anyone. I know I didn’t start the fire, but I roused his passions, I challenged him, and he posted here, and those posts, taken outside of the context of our conversation and seen through a filter searching for a wrong to avenge, found him the worst kind of attention. You were wrong. You can disagree with him, with his methods, his ideas, but he was not some evil to smite. One of you out there, you and I bear a special responsibility. We violated one of the cardinal rules: we judged, and so shall we be judged. But what’s worse, what’s more sickening, is we judged hastily. We didn’t look beyond the superficial indignities of another culture’s medium, we simply recoiled at imagined horrors my son never intended to bring to bear. I don’t need to ask my God for vengeance. He gives that willingly. Those who have done this will burn. You can hide behind your faith if you like; the Pharisees hid behind their religion, too. You see how well that served them. The End at the Beginning Posted on August 25, 2010 by visuallynovel | Okay, I don’t know if I did (or can) set this up right. But this story is in reverse order- blame WordPress (or the nature of blogs) for that. You can go to the first post here. Also, if you’re interested, my producer Aang tweets here. To make sense of him (at least what little sense can be made of Aang), you should start at the beginning (the tweets are also in reverse order- stupid antilinear internet). |
|||||||||