Everyone step aside, I’m telling a story again! This time it’s in parts!

Not long after Corona Blossom wrapped up, Vol.2 got announced. Not really a surprise — the series was billed as three volumes from the start. The funny part is that Corona Blossom launched in Japan a month after Steam, meaning Steam got it first. Same for Vol.2: a galgame with a Japanese release slated for November, and it hits Steam ahead of schedule. Gotta hand it to them. Vol.1 didn’t score well on ErogameScape. Most of the complaints were that the story doesn’t go anywhere, the slice-of-life is boring, splitting it into volumes is shameless, etc. And honestly? Fair. These days if your eroge doesn’t have a shrine maiden with a deep grudge, or an idol restoring a fallen nation, or a cursed katana you can bang, or a train module you can bang, who the hell cares? Standard developments are played out. A lump of metal falls from the sky, goes duang, and turns into a cat-eared girl — light novels were doing that ten years ago. All tropes, bruh.

No idea what those Japanese eroge developers were smoking this year, but most of this year’s new releases felt like… a huge step backwards compared to before. From Hinakami Clover at the start of the year, through all the weird stuff in between — Sakura no Mori † Dreamers with its strong opening and weak follow-through, Kimi to Yume Mitsu which was so baffling it made me sick, even the well-received Maitetsu had that self-indulgent political show dragging it down, and Saga Planets’ new game had a creative final ending but couldn’t hide how boring the common route was. August I can’t even be bothered to talk about anymore. The more I think about it, the worse it gets. Every so often I genuinely want to see if those double-standard Japanese would dare to review-bomb this game below 80. Broadly speaking, the story-driven games have all clearly regressed. Not a single one gave me that from-start-to-finish high like smoking weed. I had to go back to older games to numb myself. Every time I play a new story-focused release it just feels like getting shit smeared all over my face.

Honestly, at this point I’ve basically turned into a pure moe-otaku. What’s a moe-otaku? It means I no longer care about plot or story direction. As long as the girls are cute and the voices are nice, I’ll fucking say the game is good, and if someone says it’s not, I’ll fucking find excuses to say it is, and so on and so forth… But you can’t really blame me, right? This is a world that judges by looks.

For a long time, one of the big reasons galgames get doubted and looked down on by a bunch of hardcore princess-type players is this: the damn thing doesn’t count as a game. Honestly, I don’t think it counts as a game either. At best it’s an audiobook. I’ve said more than once that when Westerners talk about Japanese eroge, the word they use is always Visual Novels. When our local Japanophile shut-ins are solemnly announcing “I’m playing eroge again this month,” the Westerners are all saying What are you reading?. Of course, galgames themselves have increasingly become novelized, gradually turning into commercial products that sell purely on art, story, music, porn, or even just first-press bonuses. Development costs aren’t high either—plenty of small doujin circles start out as galgame companies, and it has that vaguely Chinese-youth-startup vibe. But this thing wasn’t like that in the past.

Last year Lump of Sugar put out two games… And each was worse than the last. The first, Renai Relation, had a baffling system and not a single interesting thing in the plot. The second, Kodomo no Asobi, maybe had slightly better writing, but the art was absolutely terrible! Funny thing, I looked back at the studio’s older stuff—back in 2014 and even earlier they were still doing two titles a year, and the premises were just as dumb as ever, but at least the art was decent. I played Unmei Senjou no Phi too; the system was actually pretty flashy, but for a game billed as a mystery, the story was a total joke… So I’ve always figured Lump of Sugar pumps these out assembly-line style: someone grabs a premise, holds a meeting, rounds up a few writers (they don’t even have a fixed writing team), the artist is at least consistent with Moekibara Fumitake, the music is whatever, and the only real muscle in the company is the programming side—they’ll cobble together any weird gimmick you can think of. Keyword hunting, fruit slicing, timed hidden third options. Going by that Japanese expose on the eroge industry, Lump of Sugar probably just leans on Moekibara to push the first wave of limited-edition sales and then calls it a day. The stories aren’t really that interesting; it’s mostly carried by the voice acting, art, and programming. So honestly, I don’t play their games all that seriously (same as how I play crap from that shit-tier studio), I just skim through and move on… This year’s Lump of Sugar feels different though. Maybe they finally got their act together, maybe it’s because it’s their tenth anniversary and they figured holding yet another press conference to announce a new title would be stupid—better to sit down and make a proper commemorative game. So they took their biggest hit from ten years ago, Tayutama -kiss on my deity-, and made a sequel using the same setting. Plenty of people probably remember Tayutama—there was an anime, called Yuu On (Tayutama), and back in the day the studio even did a crossover between the anime and Yuzusoft’s Tenshin Ranman. Pretty nuts, right? They really went all-in. So bringing back the old setting for a sequel has a bit of that Alcot-doing-Clover Day’s vibe—look back at history, look forward to the future, carry on the legacy, march steadily forward. The sequel is called Tayutama 2 -you’re the only one-, and it continues from the first game. The first game was about the conflict between humans and Tayutai; the second takes place in a town where the heroes of the first game have established a place where humans and Tayutai can coexist peacefully. The protagonist, Kusakabe Sora, runs into Kohaku, a Tayutai adopted daughter raised by the first game’s heroine, Izumo Mashiro. He helps her out, the girl decides he’s a good guy, and drags him home to tell her mother she’s going to marry him.

Tsukikage no Simulacre is a free game. I was pretty surprised when it got announced. My first thought: when a Japanese company suddenly announces a free game, 99% of the time it’s a card game. Turns out nope, not a card game — it’s basically galge-style content. Then I figured, if you’ve got the balls to make it a galge, are you gonna charge me for every choice? And then the bastards went and slapped “完全無料（ゲーム内課金無し）” on it in giant letters. So now I’m even more confused. Everyone says the eroge industry in Japan is dying — since when did they start doing charity? And isn’t the standard playbook for disruptive low-price launches to hold a press conference like Meizu used to? Whatever. Just download it and see. It’s free anyway. Gotta hand it to those dumbasses in Japan and their bargain-bin servers — the official site went down almost immediately, the Dropbox links blew through their traffic cap right after, and only the Google Drive one still worked. As expected of the almighty Google. Is it really that hard for you Japanese to rent a VPS??

We’ve always said the Japanese have an island mentality. What does that actually mean? It has two senses. One is the textbook island mentality — a reluctance to take in culture from the outside world. The other is the one we toss around online when talking about Japan, which is sort of the opposite but comes from the same root: the feeling that you’re on a tiny patch of land with no resources and no long history, squeezed on one side by America and on the other by a rising China, with things not exactly peaceful at home either. So you’re always on alert, feeling like you’re at rock bottom in the dark, on the edge of being ruled by someone else, and you’d better be ready to suffer. Honestly that sense of crisis is correct. The old saying goes, “Born in adversity, die in comfort.” Which is why the Japanese work so hard — and at least on that count, I’d say it beats China’s habit of being woken up from its “celestial empire” daydreams by a slap across the face. But “island mentality” isn’t a nice word. It’s distorted, a little forced, and a little delusional, and it shows up in Japanese culture and all sorts of works. You’ve seen it in anime — Japan gets colonized, Japan needs a revolution, Japan gets surrounded like livestock, the world ends with Japan at the center. Etc. Etc. (I’m just talking off the top of my head. I didn’t name Guilty Crown, I didn’t name Code Geass, and I certainly didn’t mention Attack on Titan.) And by extension, of course there are visual novels that display the same mentality. Like the one I played this time… From the Future Undying.

I’m not really a fan of “guns, cars, and balls” games—I find they get old fast. After all, run-and-gun always boils down to the same few formulas, so even during the years when CS was huge, I didn’t play it for long. If I had to name what I genuinely enjoyed playing the most, it’d be Chinese RPGs. Like everyone else, my first was the Xianjian series. Before RPGs I never read the story — the run-and-gun stuff wasn’t translated back then anyway, but it had GPS-style navigation: open the map, follow the route, kill whoever you run into. RPGs don’t let you skip the story, though. It’s a narrative, and no walkthrough is gonna sit there and recap the plot of every game you’ve played the way I stupidly do. So starting with the “Xianjian” series, at first I was mashing Enter to skip every conversation with anyone in Yuhang County, until I got to Suzhou City, where I started actually reading the story properly. Bit by bit I settled into it, and felt the pull of “game plot” for the first time. Of course you can’t say the “guns, cars, balls” games of that era had no plot — it’s just that games back then didn’t say much about their plots. How was I supposed to know that Delta Force 3 Land Warrior had a cute little sister character named Mako who nearly got killed off… the game didn’t mention a damn thing about it. What I’m actually getting at is this: riding that wave of Chinese RPGs, I started playing games “as stories to read,” and somewhere along the way RPGs drifted apart from the whole “guns, cars, and balls” crowd. The latter chases a “rush”; the former chases a “read.” Chinese RPGs had a golden age once. Plenty of them, even now, could wipe the floor with a lot of Japanese visual novels — China’s history is longer than Japan’s, after all, and there’s a lot more material worth showing off. Even if the cultural climate on the mainland keeps getting worse, at least the Chinese-speaking world still has Taiwan. The Xuanyuan Sword (轩辕剑) series counts as a pretty unique presence in Chinese-language RPGs: it was the first to fuse “history” with “mythology,” and the side stories in particular weave “emotion” into the mix.

First off, thanks to the people who cracked the PSV. Yeah, it’s not exactly ethical, but I’m genuinely broke. I’ve bought a pile of PSV games by now, so let’s call it even on the guilt front. Next, thanks to the person who dumped this game. Without that legend sharing it, a cracked PSV would mean basically nothing. And last, thanks to the driver who posted the link: Eric Sitounel. Without his tip I would’ve assumed nobody had dumped this thing at all… The game I’d been wanting to play was this one, because it has an additional route and a new character voiced by Ari Ozawa: Ichinoe Kingyo. I got it downloaded and the PSV cracked in a hurry, and since I’d already played the original Daitoshokan no Hitsujikai and the FD too, I went straight for the new heroine. How do I put it — way better than I expected. Quick impressions.