Guns and Seacats

The point-of-view character is your usual antisocial First-Person Smartass© of an MC called Amara Ibito, with his one male pal Karasuma Hidaka and his female pal Manabe Yukari. Of course he also has a shy childhood friend called Akazawa Noriha. Of course there’s a school legend about love (although a little bit twisted) and of course a whole bunch of girls are gonna go after him, with each encounter getting more ridiculous. Even the interface looks like your average dating sim − the text box now has its own buttons, meaning you have a menu in your menu so you can play while you play!

And in this game, you have choices! And if you pick the wrong choice… the camera zooms back to the point of view of someone playing the game, calling it crappy and turning it off, and it's a game over. There seems to be two kinds of "bad endings" − either the MC falls in love with a girl and they live happily ever after, or he decides to ditch everything and live his life as a slob playing games forever. Thankfully, if you click "continue" the game brings you back right before the choice even if you haven't saved.

By the end, there’s a weird twist, or hint of a twist. First the MC wonders if he's in the freaking Truman Show because there's no way so many girls would be after him, and as I kept deliberately picking game over options (because any options but the first ones lead to happy bad endings), things started to get a little clearer… In several endings, we got a glimpse of the player's face which was none other than Mikihiko from the "Country Girl" story. And in case it wouldn't be obvious enough, one of this story's girls namedrops one of the characters from Country Girl out of nowhere, to the bafflement of the MC − and mine. And just as things start to get really weird, we get back to the Metaworld before switching to the third story, Vespio 2438, a space opera.

I have no idea how they're gonna connect that to the first two stories, but now this game's got my full attention.

Regarding SLA, while the fact that new (Ryuukishi-drawn) girls appear out of nowhere every minute only to give you bad endings seems like a potshot at clichéd romcom games, I really dig said girls' designs, so I kinda hope they're not one-off jokes… but I doubt it, as they're clearly meant to be shallow clichés − you got the serious stuco president, the passionate sports club captain, the cool distant beauty, the Cute Clumsy Girl who's Late for School with a Toast of Tardiness, the Ojou, and the girl who's in an arranged marriage with the MC. Oh, and there's a Rika/Bernkastel expy among those girls, because of course there is.

But even putting aside all the meta-meta-shit, SLA part 1 was actually really fun to read for its sheer absurdity, and I laughed more than once.

Well then, see you next time to start Vespio, and I’ll leave you with a bunch of random pretty pics!

Kujou Yukina (with posters of Shannon and Terumi from Hotarubi in the background)

Kirihara Hinata

Takatori Fuuka

Miumiya Hinako

Kuonji Miho

Dlanor trying to make ends meet between two executions.

Shion and Satoshi in the poster behind. D’awww.

Black Ops Duty: Call of Battlefield. Or something.

So to start, I should probably focus on this VN's protagonist, Mitake Miyao. On a surface level, he's a bit of what you'd call a “tsundere”: harsh, a little irritable and sarcastic with his pals, but always well-meaning and easy to befriend in the end. One of the running threads of the story so far is that he's too well-meaning in fact, idealistic to a fault, which contributes to his odd charisma but also makes the increasing realization of his powerlessness all the more depressing. You don't want to see this guy fail, but because of the way the story is framed, you know he inevitably will.

For a while, the narration and dialogue like to repeat that “youngsters are each generation's main characters”, but that's a sentiment I couldn't quite share − in our real world, youngsters may be the ones will all the dreams, but they sure as hell aren't the ones making the decisions. The climate change crisis, for example, wouldn't be left unaddressed if that was the case. And sure enough, Ciconia isn't so naïve as to ignore that reality. Every single step of the way, Miyao thinks he can use his power to overturn the situation. Every single step of the way, he's reminded that in the end he's just a pawn moving however his higher-ups or other nebulous forces wish him to. That's a really powerful and relatable theme in this day and age, which raises the question of how far you can oppose a system you're an essential part of.

One thing that makes Miyao special, at least compared to his pals from the AOU, is that he's “ciconia-born” − born from natural procreation. Which means that unlike Jayden or Gunhild, he has bilogical family bonds but also hasn't been subjected to a genetic selection that would predetermine his path in life. At least supposedly, but we gradually learn that that may not quite be the case. In fact, that biological link to Toujirou ends up acting as a tether that robs Miyao of even more control on his own life than he thought, leading to the final tragedy of this first Phase.

There also lies this story's commentary on technology and man's increasing dependence on it − technology makes the kids' life easier, but it's also their undoing. One technology prevented an apocalypse that another caused, and the loss of the former brings about a new apocalypse. Humans created the 8MS but only a handful of scientists have a full understanding of how it works, just like today's technology are only fully understood by a small elite of technicians. We are increasingly dependent on tools whose principles are increasingly out of our grasp. Again, the Gauntlet is another reflection of that.

But back to Miyao and the Gauntlet Knights. In retrospect, it is clear that the way both the characters and readers learn about most dramatic developments through disincarnated news reports (with a goofy “news flash” alert by the frog AI Keropoyo to make it worse) is meant to build up that feeling of powerlessness, and also of disconnect. We should be alarmed that war is approaching, that terrible things are happening… but it all feels distant. After all, do you cry or tremble in fear when you learn that an eathquake killed a thousand people on the other side of the globe? No, you'll think “it's terrible” for a minute and then move on, because what can you do about it? Reading the second half of Ciconia felt a lot like that. And while that's part of the message, it is also to the detriment of the reading experience a lot of the time.

For a while (around the 60-to-80% portion of the game, roughly) we get a lot of redundant dialogue about commenting the news and Miyao rambling on about how they're all COMRADES MAINTAINING THE WALLS OF PEACE, again and again and again, to the point it becomes annoying. That's my only real gripe with the game − the feeling that, at times, Ryukishi forgot he was writing a story and went into political or philosophical essays about its themes instead. Maybe a manga or anime adaptation could help make these parts more… show-don't-telly. But as it is, it could have used some serious trimming down. That's hardly something entirely new − who can forget Krauss' tangent about 1986 Japan's economic situation or Beatrice's explanation of Hempel's crow? But in Ciconia the narration doesn't seem to come from any specific point of view except that of the author (and even on that front, the opening disclaimer warns us that the views expressed don't necessarily reflect the author's opinions), so those parts become all the more conspicuous. Unless this all turns out to be part of a Witch's game, which wouldn't be surprising.

Where Ciconia shines however, is at weaving a web of connections between the characters, one by one, to make you care about some and suspicious of others, sometimes both, and deliberately confuse you about who really controls whom. First we have the kids, with Warcat and Grave Mole which instantly grew on me (the slice-of-life TIPS focused on them had some of my favorite scenes actually), then the other kette with their own quirky charms… then the “villains”, with Toujirou and Seshat, then the Three Kings and Jestress who has a delightful dynamic with Toujirou, and then Toujirou is revealed to be Miyao's father, etc... It's a testament to how well all of those characters are established that I could remember almost all of them very quickly despite their massive number. Save for the Cairo Squad maybe. They're just kinda there. The (mostly) gorgeous character designs certainly help, even if Ryukishi still has a somewhat loose grasp of body proportions and of the… number of fingers on human hands. There's some improvement even in that department though.

While Miyao is for the most part the center of the cast, at least on the kids' side, that doesn't mean the others aren't interesting in their own right. Jayden is your classic “best buddy dudebro” whose easygoingness lets him bounce off Miyao's more strait-laced personality in a fun way, but his relationship with Meow, Miyao's “little sister” who shares the same body, allows him to show more sensitivity and shyness he would otherwise have. Speaking of Meow, she brings about another interesting element of worldbuilding − the existence of “Congenital Parallel Processors”, or CPPs, i.e. people born with multiple personalities, who are not considered mentally ill but a full-fledged minority with its own issues and “coming outs”. Although that aspect isn't developped much (Meow herself kind of disappears from the radar in the second half), we do get other examples of how it can manifest, notably with the character of Naima, whose unnamed alter-ego is violently protective of her, or Rukshana who's prone to abrupt personality changes when she laughs. The way Jayden kinda walks on eggs but genuinely tris to to treat Meow as her as her own person while respecting her and Miyao's privacy is frankly adorable, and I almost wish we got more of that at least in the TIPs!

The kette I found the most interesting, though, was Grave Mole, composed of Chloe, Lilja and Koshka. While a lot of characters have issues, all three of these girls are complete mental wrecks to some degree. Koshka spends her time between grumpily taking part in Kizuna chat rooms and horrific body experiments (usually simultaneously) when she's not training, Lilja has to take drugs to pretend like she's a happy, cute and mischievous cat-girl for the sake of making Koshka a more-or-less functional human being, and Chloe has to constantly deal with unfair punishments and a constantly battered self-esteem. As comedic as Okonogi's angry rants and karate-chops are played (and as much as I like this version of Okonogi, strangely enough), that scene where she gleefully lets Lilja be killed in battle makes it clear that her mental state is just as unstable as the other two's.

On the antagonists' side, things are a lot more blurry: a lot of them utter the arc phrase “All is in the name of guiding humanity down the right path.” However, what the right path is seems to vary depending on who says it. That's where a lot of the mystery lies − be it with Jestress, Seshat or Toushirou, their goals seem contradictory, and Tak… I mean Vier Dreissig doesn't even seem to have a goal beyond SCIENCE. But a big part of Phase 1's hook is that constant uncertainty as to who is playing whom and for what purpose. Even the Three Kings, who seem like your bog standard Illuminati knock-offs, might not be as much in control as they seem − hell, one of the big catastrophes (the fatal damage to the atmospheric 8MS) happens completely outside of their control, in an almost comically sudden way.

Speaking of comical… let's get to what I found personally fascinating but what other readers might have gripes with: the brutal tonal shifts and dissonances throughout the story. A cheery scene to announce the big success of a plan for the Order of the Public Bath? Keropoyo pops up to gleefully announce… an avalanche of terrible news that make the success from a minute ago meaningless. A big conference for peace where World War IV will most certainly be stopped? All of its participant die in an “accidental” explosion. Not to mention characters that are walking balls of tone dissonance like Chloe (who has many comical scenes but is clearly broken beyond repair) or the Yeladot Shavit girls (who by the end are forced to spew out fanatical bullshit with the same sparkly smile they sport when gushing about yuri ships).

This is of course embodied by the incredible climax where all the Gauntlet Knights celebrate their comraderie together in a virtual room… while their real selves are busy killing each other lest they're court-martialed for treason. The moment where all of Miyao's ideals are brutally trashed and scattered in a battle we don't even know the purpose of. The moment where the kids' taent for “parallel processing” becomes their sole mean of escaping the horror of their situation. The moment where all the absurdity, all the unfairness explodes in a depressing flourish. The moment also where the thematic resonance with Umineko becomes fully apparent − how can we not be reminded of Sayo and Maria escaping their shitty lives through their magic? Though of course Rose Guns Days also constantly came to mind, with the focus on war and nationalism, Japan being divided between a union led by the US and one led by China, and two of Miyao's closest friends being the American Jayden and the Chinese Lingji; as well as Miyao being an idealistic and charismatic leader-by-circumstance whose dreams crash into a wall much like Rose's in RGD.

So…

All in all, Ciconia might not entirely be what I expected from a When They Cry game, but it is certainly what I expect from a 07th Expansion game: a thought-provoking experience. Again, I finished my reading shocked and confused. Although it might seem like it shows its cards more explicitly than the openers of Higurashi and Umineko, deception still plays a big part in the story, even if the interaction with the reader is less direct.

Now there might be no murder mystery for the reader to solve, but that won't stop me from speculating! The invisible turning point to me is the “Proof of a Program” chapter, where Blue Miyao tells Miyao that he'll show him someone's face, and that that will activate Miyao's murder program instantly. Miyao first laughs it off, but then the scene brutally cuts to something that might be a flashback, a flash-forward or a nightmare, maybe all of that at once… The most graphically horrifying scene of the entire game, to the point it's almost at odds with the rest. And then… it's never mentioned again. Not even when Miyao meets again with Blue Miyao. Like it never happened. My theory is that everything Miyao experiences from that point onward is some kind of simulation, and that's where the obligatory When They Cry time loop will come from this time. See you in May for the answer?

Since she has nothing better to do, Keiko decides to create a volunteer club that will help around the town and clean stuff up, including… stuff people don’t want to clean up.

…You get the idea. BUT this allows her to create a lot of connections in the town and possibly create support for the club and, by extension, the school, should it be threatened to shut down like the previous one.

And this all puts emphasis on Keiko’s main qualities: her altruism, but also her ability to infect other people with it. There’s a smooth timeskip of a few months at some point, and by then not only has the volunteer club gained a few members, but Yayoi herself eventually starts to question her own cynicism (at first she called Keiko a hypocrite and a fake samaritan) in a… surprisingly moving scene − although the music playing over it was a tad over-the-top. Also, just before that, a hilarious animated bit in a car. It looks kinda awkward, but all these details do enhance the immersion if you ask me!

Then we get the big scene: Mikihiko (the guy of the group in the prologue) finally stepped out of his room for a stroll, full with a stubble, and is surprised to stumble upon Keiko. So surprised that he outright runs away, out of shame to meet with her face-to-face, leading to a pretty epic chase scene animation-wise, full of sliding pics, pumping music and sound effects. The visual novel turned into a motion comic all of a sudden.

But as it was established earlier, Keiko’s body isn’t really made for running frantically, and she collapses. She doesn’t die (thankfully!), but it serves to bring Mikihiko back to his senses, and they can finally have an earnest talk. She gently but honestly calls him out for his cowardice and gives him a small lesson about, well, being the change you want to make I guess.

After the ambulance comes to pick up Keiko, Mikihiko is left all alone and it seems like the focus is now gonna shift back to him. “Seems”, because that’s where I stopped.

----

Volume 3 ended both on yet another tragedy (the death of Masashi) and on a brief respite for our protagonists as they finally found a durable shelter, with water inside and more than enough food that they no longer need to venture outside. That’s where they meet again with Takano, who for some reason (and yes, there is a reason) didn’t know of this building’s existence. That’s also where Yukito finds a picture book that turns out to depict very… familiar events.

And so this final volume opens with a not particularly exciting part, let’s be honest. The picture book more or less describes what we have already seen in the previous volumes, albeit with some more context about Hirasaka’s lore and traditions. BUT it also gives a few hints to the characters about how to get out, and Takano casually makes a very Takano-like proposal: descend into the very heart of Hell, located inside a mountain.

And that’s where the more interesting part begins. Their mission down there is to find their parents (who are facing eternal torture in Hell) and pray in front of them so that they can pass on. They do find them and start praying, but it doesn’t seem to work, at least no longer than a few seconds. Surrounded by demons, they seem to be doomed when they’re saved by none other than Terumi, who stood by during the whole process but ended up finding the right words to save their parents… After the parents are freed from Hell, the kids are transported back at the top of the mountain, with a voice telling them when the gate of Hell will open.

After that we learn what Terumi said to her father: that she was pregnant and was gonna take good care of her child, so he could leave in peace. It seems to come out of nowhere but was actually subtly hinted at before − from a couple of panels where Terumi touched her lower abdomen, or when Yue told her that if only one of them had to survive, she’d prefer if it was Terumi.

Then comes the great day, when all the survivors will finally get out of this hell and return to the living world! All of them? Not quite… another thing that was foreshadowed, and much less subtly, was that there was something gravely wrong with Takano’s body. It was clear by now that Takano had long ceased to be human. What Takano herself didn’t realize was that she had also long ceased to be alive. The only one who caught, and the one who stops Takano from going back to the human world, is Yue.

Which leads us to the third big foreshadowing that gets its payoff in this finale: Yue herself implied several times (and all-but-stated once) that she was actually quite fine with being stuck in Hell. From the get go, she was the most stoic of all to all the shit happening. And so she becomes one of the ascets described in the picture book at the start of the volume, and prefers to stay in Hell to help the tormented souls, after freeing Takano’s soul. (As a side note, this volume also makes it clear that this is not the same Takano as in Higurashi; at the very least she never went to Hinamizawa.)

Epilogue: a year later, Yukito, Teruya, and Terumi and her child have started their life anew and promise to honor their parents’ memory. The end.

…That was a long summary! Now I’ve reread the volume twice, the main thing that strikes me is the resonance of this series’ themes with the ones of Umineko: keep remembering fondly what you have lost, but don’t let this loss stop you from moving on with your life. In that regard, Hotarubi, while still bittersweet, feels more optimistic than the often depressing Umineko. Sure, the idea of Terumi choosing to keep her child after considering an abortion might seem annoyingly conservative, but in this case it serves the message of not only living on with hope but also passing down that hope to future generations. It’s a nice conclusion to Terumi’s arc, who was the most fleshed out character in this series all-in-all. There’s certainly some irony in the fact that knowing Hell helped the protagonists become better people, but in a way I prefer that to the more common development of Hell making the characters horrible people.

Narratively speaking, it actually wasn’t until I started to write this review that I realized how neatly the finale tied together most of the elements set up throughout the story. My only small gripe is that other elements, notably the whole funk about Yue’s mother and the inheritance, ended up being of little consequence outside of setting up Yue’s character and the relationships within the family.

Visually, there are some pros and cons… the picture book’s illustrations have a nice balance of childish cuteness and hellish creepiness, some of the shots in the finale are nice and impactful, and the depiction of the tortures in Hell’s Cauldron is pretty damn terrifying. Too bad this only applies to the tortures, because the rest of Hell’s Cauldron looks pretty damn bland. It’s pretty much just a flat rocky plain. Maybe that was the intention to create a sense of emptiness, but I expected something more chaotic and deadly considering the name. Even though there was a noticeable improvement in Koike Nokuto’s art between the first and last volume, I still found it… lacking in some parts, and that was one of them.

So to conclude, Hotarubi was… an interesting ride. Admittedly it doesn’t nearly have the emotional impact or thematic depth of Ryûkishi’s long VN series, and some of the characters feel sorely underdevelopped (mostly Teruya), but I’d still consider it a worthwhile entry in the When They Cry lore. It does have thematic connections with Higurashi and Umineko, while updating the take on those themes ever so slightly. I actually would quite like to see this series animated, which shouldn’t be too hard.