Hijiri, Candles, Freedom: Maniacs' Retcon Woes (and the Atlus "Enhanced" Edition Formula)

For many years it seemed almost unthinkable to criticize the seminal and influential Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne in any way. Besides, any such criticisms could be easily excused. Re-rolling fusion skills? It just makes it all that more intense and satisfying to get exactly what you want. Random negotiation? It's just, uh, more fun that way, yeah! No story? Okay, that one is seriously illegitimate. Point is, an epoch-making, 15-year-old game like Nocturne will survive having its flaws exposed since it has a lot more to offer than RNG insanity.

The same goes for the vaunted Maniacs additions. Flat out, Maniacs made Nocturne a more fun game to play. Most of us across the Pacific or further will never know the difference, but I can't imagine a Nocturne with more ambushes and instant death and less Matador and Daisoujou becoming a cult hit. Its plot and backstory additions, though? It's open season.

I should state up front that this is article consists mostly of old material. It is the original survey of the writing inconsistencies of Hijiri's character (which the post permalink will continue to reflect) appended with two other older posts that dealt with iffy Maniacs creative decisions, like the guiding figures of the Freedom ending (a close reading of which contradicts Maniacs retcons of Aradia) and the kabbalistic theming attached to the Fiends' candelabra. Also, a new, somewhat meaty conclusion about the quality of the Atlus enhanced editions (re-releases, ports, whatever you want to call them) we'll continue receiving until the heat death of the universe.

And as of this update (December 2019), it's an extremely boring time to be a Shin Megami Tensei fan, so why not spend a quick 30 minutes reuniting with the writing tendencies of the team that will (eventually) bring us Shin Megami Tensei V? Hey, at least you know those improved gameplay mechanics are going to be pretty good...  

From the Precipice of the Garbage Can: Musings About Ann Takamaki

[IMPORTANT INTRODUCTORY NOTE: PERSONA 5 is happening, so it wouldn’t make sense not to have something to say about it, right? As a matter of fact, I almost did a number of months ago, only you didn’t hear about it because, well, I didn’t think it was quite up to snuff. Intended to be published to Persona Central, the following article examines Ann’s mixed-race heritage and how Persona 5 could frame it within the discriminatory context of modern Japanese culture. (A different article on Nocturne--more my speed--will be available shortly.)

Even though this Ann article is missing that je ne sais quoi (probably due to my lack of passion for the plight of a unfamiliar character from a game I’ve never played), there’s still some stuff I like about it, particularly the conclusion, which forced me to change some of my existing assumptions. Seeing as this is probably the final day anything about its content could even hope to be relevant, it was time to release the article into the wild or delete it forever. Hopefully it’s worthwhile for at least one of you!]

Of the scant information released thus far about Persona 5, the tidbits concerning party member Ann Takamaki in particular caught my attention: Described as “one-quarter American,” that ethnic split, and the resulting personality trait stereotypes, allegedly make her unable to gel with her Japanese peers. Upon hearing that for the first time, I thought it was a joke. How could a small fraction of a particular ethnicity (especially as potentially nebulous as “American” can be) not only define a character but also elicit such severe discrimination?

Nevertheless, this is an issue that will likely define much of Ann’s early characterization and her persona arc, so it was worth investigating further: Was it plausible or not? Armed with my own contrary experiences from teaching for two years in a Japanese public high school, I went looking for evidence that Ann’s scenario wasn’t just an ignorant attempt to acknowledge the series’ burgeoning overseas fanbase. What I found, however, was at once surprising and, sadly, predictable.