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Your passion for Xenoblade Chronicles 2 really shines through in this reflection—it was such a joy to read! You did an amazing job unpacking both the depth of the worldbuilding and the layers within Rex’s character. I especially liked how you tied the post-apocalyptic themes and environmental commentary to our class discussions—it made the analysis feel very grounded and relevant. Your point about Rex not fitting the typical shonen mold really stood out to me; he’s idealistic, but in a grounded, emotionally-driven way that feels refreshing. I’d love to read your thoughts on Pyra and Mythra sometime too—you clearly have so much insight!
Xenoblade Chronicles 2
This was an extraordinary game to get to go through and watch the cutscenes of. Also, just an extraordinary game in general. I definitely recommend playing or simply watching all of the cutscenes, because the story as a whole is really quite fantastic, and there is some characters you don't really even get to know or meet with the part that we were required to watch. So, just note that there is so much more than just what we quickly went through. Definitely my favorite thing we have covered so far within this class.
I feel like there is so many places to go with this game, there is a post-apocalyptic world to discuss as well as so many different interpersonal themes spurted throughout. So that this post does not get too long, I have decided to talk about two main aspects in two different paragraphs. First will be the world and second will be the characters.
The world of Xenoblade Chronicles 2 is a postapocalyptic world in which mankind lives on the backs of giant creatures named titans. It is during the setting of this game that the Titans have begun to die off, leading the world to a sense of desperation, at least from the perspective of Rex. This leads him to want to explore and discover Elysium so that he can provide safety and a utopia to the people who all live in Alrest. Elysium means ideal happiness. So, it is important to note that even the creator is calling this location a place worthy of a utopia. As you watch the story unfold things get a lot darker and you learn that Alrest is the aftermath of a destructive event which destroyed Old Earth, or as it is called the Land of Morytha. This world that was destroyed looks exactly like ours. This shows a direct connection between the real and fantasy provided within the story of this game. It is also important to note the destructive nature of mankind, the Anthropocene which is seen within the game itself. This connects to our article, which discussed the changes that us humans are capable of making. I bring this all up and together with the note of how many different aspects there are to this world. Living off the backs of Titans could be equated to the need humans have on so many different nonrenewable resources and each other. It also could be used to show the importance of life and an ecosystem. The destruction of Earth as we know it can show either the hubris of mankind and man trying to play god. There is also discussion of the cyclical nature that humans live within, always repeating past mistakes. That being said, Rex, is shown to help break free from this. Which could be attributed to either destiny or free will depending on how you read the story. Regardless, the world of Xenoblade Chronicles 2 develops so many themes in such an exemplary manner.
Now to discuss the characters. Most notably, I'd like to talk about Rex. He is such a fascinating main character. This is because at the offset he seems like generic shonen protagonist no.1. That is quickly dissuaded, at least from my view, as we watch him on his journey. This is because the way he views the world is idealistic in a manner which I do not feel fits a common protagonist. This is because he sees the world being destroyed and instead of the usual heroes journey, he takes smaller steps in helping himself and others out. He does have the main quest, but I never felt like his goal was simply that. He cared a lot about Pyra, worked towards her goal. Even though they were aligned, I never felt like he would have done anything differently if they weren't. In this manner, he was very down-to-earth. He worked towards what he was able to solve, then followed through on that. He knew bad things were happening and got thrown into the middle of it, but it wasn't in a manner which a protagonist usually follows. It was much more in the method of simply doing things for the smaller purpose. That isn't to say he wouldn't have gone to find Elysium on his own, just more so that he was about the present, not the future in a lot of ways. In a good way. Now, I could also go deep into the meanings of Pyra/Mythra, their duality and connection with Malos, but that is a lot. So, I will leave that discussion for another time.
Overall, such a fascinating story which was executed very well. Definitely recommend and will look through the game again.
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I really enjoyed reading your analysis of Hetalia Axis Powers! You did such a great job capturing the layered irony behind its comedy. It’s so true that the absurdity and childishness of the characters actually highlight how ridiculous and performative international politics can be. I loved your point about how rewatching it through the lens of this class brought out deeper meanings—it really shows how context can transform a viewer’s experience. You also explained the importance of satire really well, especially how the exaggerated humor isn’t dismissing serious topics but rather pointing to the flaws in how they’re handled.
Hetalia Axis Powers - Episodes 1-19
Hetalia Axis Powers is a fascinating anime which discusses world politics on a stage designed wholly off of irony and satire. The entire point of the anime is to draw attention to the stupidity that is politics at the world stage. This is done through stereotypes, jokes, and comical situations between the different countries who are all played by anime boys. This is not the first time that I have watched Hetalia. I originally watched this anime years ago because I had heard of it's humor many different times in the past. This time looking at the anime from the lens provided within this class I was fascinated to see the differences to which I saw within the anime. I felt like it almost made it funnier, as it brought a deeper meaning into the different aspects of the anime to which I was watching. I understood before it was satire, but instead of it being used for a quick laugh, it truly did exist to bring home the deep point within the anime.
Hetalia has many different themes which I feel like you could draw from it, such as stereotypes, but I feel like it is important to focus in on the main point and idea that exists within it; world relations. Not only does it paint them as a bit absurd, but it also shows them through stereotypes. This makes everything go on seem childish, as a bunch of stereotypical anime boys arguing about problems as though they happen on a playground might come off as menial. This in turn, causes these large issues (usually surrounding World War II) come off as unimportant or stupid. It is important to note here that Hetalia is not trying to make these issues less important, but instead providing a backdrop so absurd that its clear the global politics which surround these issues to be over-the-top. This is vital to discuss because otherwise it might seem as though this anime is very inappropriate with its handling of sensitive subjects. That is an important aspect of satire, however, because without this piece, it isn't as effective. This anime is trying to show that the political aspect is so stupid in comparison to what is actually going on within the anime.
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I really loved your reflection on Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood—you captured so much of what makes it such a timeless and meaningful story. The personal connection with your brother makes it even more special, and I can see why it holds such a strong place in your heart. Your insight about Equivalent Exchange and how it ties into real-world systems like war, capitalism, and human nature was so well put. I especially appreciated your thoughts on Scar and Winry—they really do represent how people on opposite sides can both be victims. You nailed how the series balances emotional depth with social critique.
Full Metal Alchemist
Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood was one of my first anime and is honestly still one that's very close to my heart. I first started watching Full Metal Alchemist with my older brother and it was really the only anime that we watched together and kind of bonded over so that's why I really was a special place and the overall theme and core meaning of the movie is also very powerful. For example, when they touch on the laws of Equivalent Exchange as well as the seven deadly sins and what they plan to Human Nature, I feel it could really be reflected in real life and even today's society. To start off a really introduce to the brothers and kind of see the immediate effects of what Alchemy can have, We see the price they had to pay for what they were trying to gain using Alchemy. Later on into the show really see how War can really affect the lives of others and different aspects show both sides of the story. I feel like with Scar and Winry, this is a great example to really show how both of them are really victims of the war. Furthermore, I feel like you can really see how this war was a play for economic gains. That being with the creation of the homunculus Stone. Furthermore always felt like the war kind of referenced Middle Eastern Wars and our Society. especially with representation of terrorism and refugees. Overall I feel like this anime really did cover a lot that we went in class when it came to society and War but also capital and Grand narrative. I feel like characters like Roy Edward Shou and Scar are present in different aspects of human nature. And ultimately, I feel like a lot of it really shows how it's important to be content with what you have and not always look for more.
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This was such a heartfelt reflection—I loved reading it! You captured so much of what makes Your Name resonate so deeply with people. The way you emphasized the beauty of their connection, even through memory loss, was especially moving. That idea of people leaving a mark on us, even if we don't consciously remember them, is such a powerful insight. I also really appreciated your point about perspective—how stepping into someone else’s life can lead to growth, empathy, and unexpected solutions. It's wonderful that you're planning to share the movie with your family, too—your mom is in for a treat!
Your Name
Your Name is honestly such a beautiful story and anime movie. I truly enjoyed watching it and it definitely didn't disappoint. Before this class I had never seen the film before, it had always been on watchlists of mine due to all of the positive things I have heard about it, but I never have sat down to really watch it. Due to this fact, I was super excited for it to be on our watchlist this semester. It went above and beyond the expectations to which I had set for it when I started.
I found the story to be beautiful and I felt like there was such a deep and beautiful message about personal connection to be viewed from the film. I feel like you could easily discuss what the two of them are able to do within each others bodies and the personal connections they were able to make for hours. The fact that the upbringings that they both had helped them to thrive within each others lives was fascinating. It shows how different skills which are cultivated can be used in many different positions. I feel like it also goes to show that sometimes a different perspective is all that it takes in order to really solve problems. While I did notice all of these features deeply, I truly was most affected by the fact of the presence they had on one another's lives even when they didn't remember each other. To me, this was just such a powerful thing to include within the movie. It showed the depth and importance their relationship with one another was. It also showed the complexity of human relationships. It shows that everyone who comes up within your life has an effect on you. With that being said, it is important to note that you might not remember these people. For most individuals, most people are but blips of importance within their lives. Even though I feel like the protagonists are more than just blips for each other within Your Name, I still feel like the point stands due to the fact that they do not remember each other. It shows such an amazing aspect of the human condition to change and be affected by things which aren't wholly present within your current lives.
Overall, I would give this movie a 10/10. It was honestly an amazing watch and I plan to show it to my parents over the summer because I feel like my mom will really enjoy this film.
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Your take on Sensōron is really powerful and thoughtful. I completely relate to the discomfort you described—it’s jarring to see history presented in such a revisionist way, especially when it feels like it’s trying to erase responsibility. You explained the tension between wanting to understand the media critically and the emotional resistance to what it's saying so well. I really appreciate how you emphasized the importance of acknowledging historical truths instead of covering them up. That final thought—about learning from the past to prevent future harm—really hit home. You handled a tough topic with honesty and clarity.
Sensōron - Kobayashi
Sensōron was the only manga that we read throughout the entirety of the semester. It was provided to us with the knowledge that it was a very Japanese right wing source of commentary on World War II. That being said, the warning which was provided to me definitely did not do what I witnessed justice. I felt so out of the world as I read it. This is because it just seemed crazy to me the ideas which were being put out. It put me off the manga as a whole. While I did try my best to regain some sort of mental footing, I just couldn't really do it. This was in part due to not wanting to accept the idea of history being edited so deeply (though I do know this is something which happens more often that we would like it to), but also because I felt like it was just very absurd as a whole. Now as I write this piece analysing the media to which I was given, I see a bit more clearly what I think I was meant to.
The point of Sensōron was to provide a different commentary that did not paint the Japanese in such a bad light, by providing contradictory evidence to what was being said about the horrific actions of the Japanese actions. It was not made to necessarily justify, but instead to show a different idea of what really happened. This is because they don't want to acknowledge what they did. For that paints them in a bad light. It is like trying to forget something ill that one did within the past in order to make themselves feel better. While this is a goal that I feel like many can sympathize with. Ignoring history is a one-way ticket for it to repeat itself. Which I think, in part, is why this manga bothered me so much. It is important to accept the faults where they are so that we can move forward, if for no other reason than to stop them from happening once again. For, it shows a lesson learned. One so important that we can't but hope that it is not repeated again.
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I love your reflection on Akira! It really is a landmark film, and I felt the same way watching it—like I was experiencing a major piece of anime history. The way you connected it to Psycho-Pass and Evangelion was super insightful; those parallels in dystopian settings and societal collapse really stand out once you notice them. And yes, the Akira bike slide is iconic—it’s crazy how many shows and movies still reference it. I also thought your point about its influence on Yu-Gi-Oh! 5Ds was such a cool catch! Definitely a film that leaves a lasting impression.
Akira
Akira is an anime for 1988 which is honestly a landmark for all of anime. It's popularity globally has set it to be one of the most well-known anime films of all time. I had not seen it before we watched it for class and I have to say I really enjoyed it. I could see aspects of it which are mirrored in anime today, not to mention the bike slide, which after some research I found out it was originally from Akira. What I found so fascinating about this film was the dystopian cyberpunk world it took place in. It was not unique to what I have seen now, but at the time in which it came out it would have been entirely different and something honestly completely new. To me, this added to my enjoyment watching the film as it made me feel as though I was watching a small piece of cinematic history.
I feel like there is a lot of places you can go with the themes within Akira. I would like to quickly discuss the connection I felt it held to some of the other anime to which we watched. Most notably Psycho-Pass. While these two anime are very different, I felt a lot of similarities between the two of them. Not to mention I feel as though the world which the story took place in was somewhat similar. I feel as you could feel some aspects of Psycho-Pass which might have been taken from Akira. On top of this, the society to which they are placed in and the conclusion reminded me of Neon Genesis Evangelion. This anime was also released after Akira, which once again points to the idea that perhaps other shows to ideas from it and used it in its development. My point in saying all of this, I feel like this anime has had a profound effect on modern day society, more so than any other anime we have watched. I can name so many other shows which reference or pay a nod to Akira. For instance, Yu-Gi-Oh! 5Ds is literally a world which ride bikes to play Duel Monsters and they have the Akira Slide and a few other aspects present within it.
Overall, it was nice to finally see this anime.
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I enjoyed reading your take on the anime with the correlation to biblical references, its something that I never thought of before but now reading it , it totally makes sense!
Death Note
From the moment I started Death Note, I knew it was going to be different. Right in Episode 1, we see Ryuk with that bright red apple, and it instantly gave me major biblical “forbidden fruit” vibes. It’s hard not to think of the whole Adam and Eve when watching it because when Ryuk drops the Death Note into the human world, and Light takes the bait, just like Eve took the apple. The Death Note is basically the ultimate temptation, and Light bites into it without hesitation, thinking he can become some kind of god.
By Episode 2, he’s already diving headfirst into his new god complex. Meanwhile, Ryuk just hangs around eating apples like he’s watching a movie. It’s kind of funny, but also super eerie, like he knows exactly what’s going to happen and he’s just enjoying the show.

Another thing I noticed that adds to the creepy atmosphere is the crows. They pop up a lot in intense scenes, and every time they do, you just know something bad’s about to go down. In Episode 5, when Light starts messing with Raye Penber, the tension is high and the crows are right there, like little omens of death. Same thing in Episodes 10 and 11 when Light’s plans get darker and more calculated, the crows are back, circling the chaos.
The show uses those little details like apples and crows to build this weird, unsettling vibe that sticks with you. It’s not just about the mind games or the murders, it’s about the feeling that Light’s slowly slipping into something he can’t come back from.

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Death note
Light Yagami, with the power of the Death Note, believes he’s creating a new world order—a “pure” world free of crime. But isn’t that the logic used by some of the most dangerous regimes in history? The justification of surveillance, mass punishment, and total control in the name of peace or safety? It reminded me of real-world international powers that justify military intervention, drone strikes, or intelligence gathering by claiming moral superiority. Light sees himself as godlike, but what he really becomes is a symbol of authoritarianism disguised as justice.
L, on the other hand, represents a different side of international power: the secretive, elite systems of global investigation. He works outside national borders, accessing massive amounts of information with impunity. It’s hard not to think about how modern nations use surveillance technologies to monitor not just enemies, but their own citizens. The fact that Death Note was made in the mid-2000s, right in the middle of post-9/11 security expansion, makes it even more relevant.
The ethical questions the anime raises—Who deserves to live? Who decides? Can justice ever be “clean”?—are deeply tied to global structures of control. The world is watching Light and L not just as two characters, but as metaphors for competing ideologies: absolute rule vs. chaotic freedom, surveillance vs. transparency.
In the end, Death Note shows how seductive power can be, especially when it’s framed as justice. And how easy it is to cross the line when you think you’re the only one who’s right.
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Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood
Rewatching selected episodes of Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood with an international perspective absolutely hits different. This series has always been emotionally powerful, but when you start analyzing it through the lens of real-world global conflicts, it reveals just how much it’s grappling with topics like imperialism, nationalism, genocide, and militarization.
Episodes 22 and 30, in particular, highlight the Ishvalan Civil War—one of the most brutal and politically loaded arcs in the series. It’s impossible not to draw parallels between this fictional genocide and real-world events like the Holocaust, the Rwandan genocide, or the forced colonization of indigenous peoples. The way the Amestrian government systematically wipes out the Ishvalans in the name of “peace” reflects how state power often justifies atrocities by framing them as necessary or strategic. That, to me, felt eerily familiar—and incredibly relevant.
Pair that with the Elric brothers' personal journey, and suddenly FMA:B becomes a show about how people try to reclaim humanity in systems built on inhumanity. Alchemy itself—science that aims to control and reconstruct the world—starts to feel like a metaphor for national power. The Homunculi represent unchecked ambition, the military is a puppet of the elite, and even the “truth” in alchemy reflects philosophical questions about justice and sacrifice.
One thing I loved most in episode 54 is how the series doesn’t let anyone off the hook. Even the heroes are forced to confront their complicity, their limits, and their trauma. Scar, once a “villain,” becomes a voice for the oppressed and a symbol of reclamation. His arc, more than anyone’s, reflects the potential for healing and rebuilding—if we can first admit our collective sins.
In an international context, Who controls history? Who writes the laws? And what do we owe to those crushed by those systems? It’s not just epic fantasy—it’s geopolitical therapy.
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Akira
Watching Akira again—but this time from the perspective of international themes—completely reshaped my understanding of it. We always talk about Akira as a cyberpunk classic, but in class, we’ve been encouraged to see anime as cultural commentary. When you put Akira in dialogue with the legacy of war, especially nuclear trauma, post-industrial collapse, and global power structures, it transforms into a deeply international narrative about destruction, control, and rebirth.
Neo-Tokyo is more than just a futuristic setting—it’s a post-apocalyptic reconstruction, a city born from the ashes of a catastrophe that clearly mirrors Hiroshima and Nagasaki. That historical reference isn’t subtle, and it adds a huge emotional weight to everything happening onscreen. The government experiments, the militarization of youth, the fear of uncontrolled power—these are all direct responses to the trauma of war and the anxiety of unchecked authority. The fact that the “enemy” in Akira is not a foreign invader, but internal—something born from within—makes it even more poignant.
From an international standpoint, Akira reflects Japan’s complex postwar identity. It critiques American influence, questions rapid technological growth, and expresses deep skepticism toward political power. But what’s fascinating is how universal those themes have become. Every country with a history of violence or colonization can see parts of itself in Akira. The global relevance is part of why the film gained such a strong international following—it taps into collective fear and fascination with the future, with destruction, and with the possibility of evolution through pain.
The image of Tetsuo’s grotesque transformation is unforgettable—not just because it’s horrifying, but because it symbolizes the consequences of trying to control what we don’t understand. His mutation becomes a metaphor for the instability of power itself: scientific, political, even spiritual. And in that moment, Akira asks an international question we’re still trying to answer—how much power can any one person, or country, truly handle before it implodes?

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Sensōron
Reading Gellner’s A Short History of Mankind while working through Kobayashi’s Sensōron was honestly one of the most intense academic pairings of this class so far. The manga doesn’t just depict war—it dissects it. It strips it of all glamour and glorification, leaving behind the raw, exhausting machinery of ideological conflict. And when you contrast that with Gellner’s overview of human history, it becomes painfully clear how cyclical and culturally ingrained warfare is on an international scale.
What struck me most in Sensōron was the way it refuses to reduce war to just strategy and battlefield moments. Instead, it zooms in on the psychological, emotional, and cultural roots of conflict. Characters aren't just soldiers—they’re products of their societies, raised on mythologies of honor, nationalism, revenge, or righteousness. Gellner’s theory that nationalism is a byproduct of industrial modernity really came to life for me here. You see how political ideology gets internalized as identity, and once that happens, conflict becomes inevitable. People fight not just for land or power, but for meaning.
There’s a distinct international thread running through the manga, especially in how different nations are depicted. Even though it's fictional, each side feels like a reflection of real-world global tensions. Some groups prioritize conquest, others survival, others revolution—and none of them walk away clean. There’s a sense that every nation is both oppressor and victim, depending on who’s telling the story. That ambiguity is something anime handles really well, and Sensōron especially excels at blurring moral lines.
By the end, I felt emotionally drained but also more aware of how warfare isn’t just something that happens to people. It’s something built into the structure of how we tell stories about nations, about enemies, about “us” versus “them.” In that way, Sensōron becomes more than just a war manga—it’s a philosophical commentary on international violence, written in blood and ink.

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Your name
Watching Your Name after reading Foucault’s “Method” was such a layered experience. On the surface, it’s a beautifully animated, bittersweet romance about two people switching bodies and trying to find each other across time. But once you start applying Foucault’s ideas about identity, systems of power, and the structures that define us, the story takes on a much deeper meaning—especially through the lens of international and cultural dualities.
Foucault emphasizes that identities aren’t fixed; they’re shaped by context, language, time, and systems of thought. In Your Name, Taki and Mitsuha literally become someone else—shifting between urban and rural Japan, male and female, tradition and modernity. This forced body-swap mirrors a kind of cultural and societal “method” that challenges how we define ourselves. It raises a lot of international questions too: how does geography shape personality? How does time alter cultural memory? How do traditional roles evolve when placed in a modern, globalized world?
Mitsuha’s town is steeped in ritual, folklore, and nature-worship, while Taki’s Tokyo life is fast-paced, urban, and driven by modern routine. Their switches show how deeply those environments influence the way they behave, communicate, and even perceive time. I saw it as a metaphor for globalization—how modern people, especially younger generations, are constantly shifting between worlds, trying to make sense of who they are in a landscape that’s always changing.
The comet is another fascinating symbol. It’s beautiful and destructive, timeless and sudden. Foucault might say it represents the disruptive force of knowledge—how an event can completely reconfigure what we thought was real. For Mitsuha and Taki, that’s literally true.
Your Name is more than a love story—it’s a meditation on cultural memory, shifting identity, and the systems that shape how we move through time and space. Watching it from this lens gave me a whole new appreciation for how anime can address both personal and international questions in ways that are emotionally resonant and intellectually challenging.

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Hetalia Axis Powers
Watching Hetalia Axis Powers with Annett’s “World Conflict” in mind was honestly a wild experience. At first glance, the anime feels almost too chaotic to take seriously—its personified countries are over-the-top, ridiculous, and built on exaggerated national stereotypes. But the more episodes I watched, the more I realized that Hetalia is less about teaching historical accuracy and more about exposing how global conflicts and alliances are shaped by personality, ego, and miscommunication.
Each character represents a country, and the humor comes from how these countries interact as if they’re emotionally dysfunctional roommates. But when you read Annett’s analysis of global conflict as not just a product of political ideologies but also deeply tied to identity and representation, Hetalia begins to make a lot more sense. It’s satire, but it’s also commentary: how we view other nations, how we simplify complex histories, and how war becomes a stage for absurd misunderstandings.
What stood out to me was how the anime doesn’t shy away from controversial dynamics—like Italy’s cowardice, Germany’s discipline, America’s self-centeredness, or Japan’s silence. These aren’t flattering portrayals, but they do spark reflection. Are these just jokes, or are they reflections of how cultural narratives shape our worldviews? Annett talks about the narratives we construct to justify war, and I think Hetalia plays with that by showing how those narratives become part of international “personalities.”
Ultimately, Hetalia feels like a meme version of world history, but with surprising depth. It challenges us to question our assumptions and see how ridiculous (and dangerous) oversimplified ideas of nations can be. It made me laugh, but it also made me think: if countries really were people, would they ever get along? Or are we just destined to repeat the same chaotic loops?

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Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Watching Xenoblade Chronicles 2 through cutscenes alone was surprisingly emotional. Despite being a JRPG, its storytelling manages to weave deeply international themes—especially about resource scarcity, environmental collapse, and human survival—into a fantasy epic that feels both ancient and futuristic. The world of Alrest, resting atop massive Titans that are slowly dying, metaphorically mirrors Earth’s own dying ecosystems, which connects perfectly with Cobb’s “Drama of the Anthropocene.”
Cobb describes the Anthropocene as a period where humanity has become the primary force shaping the environment. Xenoblade Chronicles 2 brings that concept to life by showing how human actions—not unlike those in our own global history—result in imbalance, destruction, and the need for extreme change. The divide between different Titans and their respective cultures echoes real-world international divisions: those with abundant resources vs. those scraping by. It's a story of colonization, of exploitation, and of trying to find balance in a system rigged by past mistakes.
What makes this analysis so powerful is that even though the characters are fictional, their struggles—fighting over dwindling land and natural energy (Aether), seeking political unity in a fractured world—mirror everything happening in today’s geopolitical scene. The game even includes themes of forced migration, class disparity, and technological dependency, which add layers of complexity that align well with the real-world impact of climate change and global conflict.
So yes, Xenoblade Chronicles 2 might be fantasy. But it’s also an international crisis in disguise. It made me think about how storytelling—especially in anime and games—can engage us emotionally with issues that otherwise feel too large to grasp. Watching it this way made me see the Anthropocene not as abstract, but as lived, personal, and urgent.

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SwampCon 2025: A Furry, Fan-Filled Frenzy of Fun (and Capitalism)
Last weekend, I hit up SwampCon at UF, and let me just say—what a wild, colorful ride. It’s not every day you find yourself walking past Dipper Pines from Gravity Falls having a full-on conversation with Deadpool while Raven from Teen Titans lurks nearby in total character. From anime icons to comic book legends to full-on furries, the cosplay scene was absolutely thriving. And honestly, that’s what I love about cons like this—it’s a chaotic melting pot of fandoms, creativity, and pure passion.
One thing that really stood out was the furry community’s presence. I’ll admit, I didn’t know much about furries beyond the internet memes, but seeing the effort and care put into these full-body suits and personas totally changed my perspective. It wasn’t weird—it was expressive and fun. The way people fully commit to their fursonas and exist unapologetically in those characters was honestly inspiring. There’s something kind of powerful about being in a space where everyone is just living their truth—fictional or not—and no one’s judging.
Then I made the dangerous decision to hit the vendor hall. My wallet is still recovering. From handmade keychains and stunning art prints to plushies, stickers, and fan-made zines, the whole area was overflowing with creativity. But man—some of those prices were rough. Like, a single sticker for $10? Hoodies pushing $80? I get that artists deserve to be paid (they absolutely do), but the price inflation felt real.
That’s where the class readings started clicking in my brain. Azuma’s concept of “database animals” fits so well here. People aren’t just engaging with stories anymore—they’re collecting characters, styles, pieces of aesthetics that speak to them. The merch wasn’t about just liking My Hero Academia or Sailor Moon, it was about how you express that love in a way that reflects you. We’re not buying whole narratives; we’re buying fragments that vibe with our identities.
And Fiske’s idea of cultural economy makes total sense here too. Fans aren’t just consuming—they’re producing. Those enamel pins and zines? They’re fan-made. The people selling them are part of the community, not just businesses. But even though these spaces are about expression, they’re still caught up in capitalism. Artists have to pay for tables, so prices go up, and we all feel the squeeze.
Still, I walked away with a Gengar backpack for $30, which honestly felt like a steal in comparison to everything else. SwampCon wasn’t just a con—it was a community. A living, breathing celebration of fandom and identity in all its weird, wonderful, and sometimes expensive glory. I’ll definitely be back next year… but next time, I’m bringing a bigger budget.


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t’s great that you’re able to still dive into Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind despite the less-than-ideal viewing conditions! Even with the 4fps and 360p, it’s clear you’re still able to pick up on the major themes of the film, which are definitely complex and impactful.
You're spot on with the film’s commentary on environmental preservation. The film shows a post-apocalyptic world where human greed and destruction have ravaged the planet, and it’s the character of Nausicaä who stands as a symbol of hope and balance, trying to bridge the divide between nature and human civilization. The Toxic Jungle (or Sea of Decay) is a perfect metaphor for the damage humans have done to the environment—something that’s both dangerous and misunderstood, yet still part of a cycle that’s crucial to the planet’s regeneration.
The Giant Warrior’s presence as an allegory for weapons of mass destruction is chilling. It’s a clear message about the dangers of human-made power and its potential to destroy, similar to how the film warns of humanity’s ability to destroy both itself and its environment through unchecked military power. The parallels with Barefoot Gen and Grave of the Fireflies are also very fitting—those films deal with the trauma of war, and Nausicaä builds on that same anti-war and anti-military sentiment. It’s not just about war in the traditional sense, but about how humanity’s destructive capabilities, through weapons or environmental degradation, can have long-lasting, irreversible effects.
Despite the technical viewing issues, it sounds like you were able to connect with the heart of the movie and its deep environmental and anti-war themes, which really speaks to the power of Miyazaki’s storytelling. The symbolic layers are definitely rich in this film, and it’s easy to see why it resonates with so many, especially in terms of the broader conversation about environmental conservation and the cost of human progress.
Nausicaa of the valley of the wind
I'd like to preface this by saying that I don't have a Max subscription so I watched this movie by watching my friend stream it over discord through his Max, which caused what might have been the worst viewing conditions possible with ~4fps and 360p. Because of that, I had a hard time picking up on the symbolism portrayed by the mise en scene, which, being a Miyazaki film, Nausicaa is rich in. The film is a commentary on environmental preservation and human destruction, with the main conflict revolving around the destruction of the environment caused by people. There is also the presence of the Giant Warrior, a clear allegory for weapons of mass destruction. This movie hearkens back to the films we watched earlier in the class, Barefoot Gen and Grave of the Fireflies, which commentate on World War 2 and environmental issues. It could also be interpreted as anti-military, again similar to the films mentioned.

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You’ve really captured the emotional weight of The End of Evangelion in your reflection. It’s such a chaotic and intense ride that doesn’t give the audience much breathing room, which mirrors Shinji’s emotional descent. From the moment the movie starts, it’s clear that the show’s rollercoaster ride of emotions has reached its darkest point. You’re right—Shinji is pushed into the lowest point of his journey. Everything he’s gone through, every small victory, feels meaningless now, and his reluctance to fight becomes even more profound.
Asuka’s tragic end right after finding a renewed sense of purpose really hits hard. It’s like the show does everything it can to rip away any semblance of hope, making us feel the hopelessness alongside the characters. That feeling of something being yanked away at the moment of possible redemption is one of the most painful parts of Evangelion.
I also agree with your point about the contradictory nature of the ending. The original series ending, with its introspective focus on Shinji's acceptance of himself, feels like a more hopeful conclusion. However, in The End of Evangelion, Shinji’s struggle with self-acceptance takes a much darker turn. His doubts about his worth and the cycle of failure that he believes he's doomed to is a stark contrast. The image of him trying to strangle Asuka is disturbing but powerful—it reflects his paralysis, both emotionally and physically. He’s trapped in this cycle of self-loathing and confusion, unable to move forward or break free from his internal struggles, even when he reaches out for connection.
In the end, The End of Evangelion doesn’t give the audience easy answers or closure. It’s raw, painful, and intensely personal, forcing Shinji (and us) to confront the reality of his emotional paralysis and the consequences of his inability to accept himself. It’s a devastating, yet fascinating conclusion to a series that has always been about questioning the boundaries of identity, agency, and emotional connection.
The end of Evangelion
Evangelion was so confusing, they had to make a whole movie just to make it make sense! "The End of Evangelion" doesn't really give anyone time to breathe or introduction, it hits it off immediately, and much like how I mentioned in my last blog post, it keeps bringing Shinji down and down. It feels like everything that hes gained up to this point has been stripped away, hes barley willing to fight. The whole thing about his masculinity and how despite him complaining or not wanting to do it, doing it anyways is gone. Hes really at his lowest. It feels like everyone gets the short end of the stick. Right after Asuka strengthens her will and resolve with new found purpose and hope, she is obliterated. It feels like whenever something even remotely good happens to the characters in this show, it gets pulled from right under them. The ending of "The End of Evangelion" also feels a little contradictory to me as opposed to the original anime ending. The original anime ending plays into Shinji realizing his self worth and accepting that he is who he is, and that it is enough for him to do what he can do, yet the ending here feels like it does the opposite. Shinji attempts to come to this realization but in the movie he notes he is probably doomed to fail again and again because he fails to accept himself. Also, when he wakes up next to Asuka and attempts to strangle her, although he does stop trying to kill her after she reaches out to him, he is unable to move which is meant to be a both literal and metaphorical paralysis on his part.
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