[Guest article] On Otaku, Kantai Collection and the Gaze of the Hermetic Consumer

kancoll 3

On Otaku, Kantai Collection and the Gaze of the Hermetic Consumer

By Devon Fisher

[note: The following is an edited version of the original article, with the images and edits done by myself. Also please be aware that this article was originally written in April 2014, prior to the release of the Kancoll anime series]

Japan’s so-called “lost decades” have continued unabated since the collapse of the 1980s bubble economy left the nation in a state of recession; the post-war dream of guaranteed lifetime employment has not been a feasible reality for the majority of Japanese men for multiple generations now. No longer able to believe that making their way through the notoriously harsh system of exams one has to take to get into a Japanese college or university will guarantee a comfortable future as it once did, the young men of Japan in the post-bubble years have opted to withdraw from the system in alarming numbers.

Some choose to become “freeters”, working part-time jobs to sustain themselves as they pursue their passions free of the responsibilities and attachments that a career brings with it. Others, particularly the so-called “NEETs” (persons Not in Employment, Education or Training), withdraw from society entirely, opting instead to lead hermetic existences with far less engagement with society than even the most detached freeter. The term for these predominantly urban, male hermits is “Hikikomori”, and in the past decade Hikikomori have provided a very lucrative market for entertainment in Japan; by catering to the desires of these disenfranchised consumers, feeling robbed of the lifestyle their ancestors were promised, new genres of consumer media have arose out of Japan.

Coinciding with the rise of the Hikikomori has been the similar increase in numbers of Otaku, once a barely-noticeable niche group that has become a serious force amongst Japanese consumers, as their often-fetishistic tastes and obsessive approach to media consumption guarantee that, once an Otaku is hooked, usually by strict adherence to the fetish culture that particular Otaku subscribes to, they will continue to make the company money long into the future.

While the contemporary Otaku is not necessarily a Hikikomori, nor is the Hikikomori guaranteed to be an Otaku, the intersection of these two groups’ interests has been a very lucrative sector for profit-minded publishers such as Kadokawa Shoten. While Kadokawa had long been a company that had dealt more generally with properties that had “across the board” appeal, even attempting (without any success) to break into the North American film industry during the early 1990s, in recent years their approach has been strongly focused on this Otaku/Hikikomori overlap -The Hikikomori desires the life they were not given by the society they reject, whilst the Otaku desires the perfection that only works of fantasy can provide – and the patterns of consumption favoured by this joint audience can be referred to as a kind of “hermetic consumerism”.

Kadokawa’s most successful attempt at cashing in on this lucrative audience to date has been the browser-based trading card battle game “Kantai Collection”, referred to with the short-form “KanColle” in casual use, wherein the user plays as admiral of a fantasy fleet of “Kanmusu”, idealized anime-style representations of Japanese battleships from the World War II era. The concept is nothing new to Otaku media, with artist Fumikane Shimada’s “mecha musume” having laid the groundwork for a previous anime property by the name of “Strike Witches” – wherein attractive young girls were outfitted with mechanical parts and weapons inspired by World War II fighter planes – half a decade prior to the launch of KanColle. Where KanColle differs from its predecessors, however, is in its hyperactive pandering to Otaku sensibilities in all their permutations; while a point can be made for many forms of Otaku-focused media having some (albeit quite limited) mainstream appeal outside of their subcultural audience, the same can most definitely not be said for KanColle – It is, as they say, something of a “fans-only” affair, and unashamedly so.

In his landmark study on Otaku, released in English as “Japan’s Database Animals”, postmodern sociologist Hiroki Azuma defines Otaku as not “narrative consumers”, as fans of a long-running anime or manga series may be, but rather “database consumers.” He writes: “there is no longer a narrative in the deep inner layer, beneath the works and products such as comics, anime, games, novels, illustrations, trading cards, figurines, and so on. In the multimedia environment of the 1990s, it is only characters that unite various works and products”, With the characters he speaks of comprising a “database” that the Otaku consumes. Although he was writing in a past decade, Otaku tastes have only conformed more and more to Azuma’s model in the years since his work was first published, and KanColle is a testament to this very fact. Of the “works and products” described in the Azuma quote, it is only anime that has yet to see a KanColle-themed permutation, but as of the writing of this paper a KanColle anime has been confirmed to be in the works for broadcast later this year.

Kadokawa’s approach to marketing KanColle can be seen as perhaps the purest example of a company catering to hermetic consumers and their patterns of database consumption one is likely to find, and the game that started it has become so popular that new accounts have to be assigned via a lottery system to ease the server load on the game’s website. This is all, as Azuma’s model would predict, possible in a property almost completely void of narrative; the browser game’s mission progression roughly follows the Imperial Japanese Navy’s Pacific campaign of 1941-45, with the Allied forces represented by the monstrous Abyss Fleet (“dark Kanmusu” that appear far more science-fiction than their Axis counterparts, likely more to avoid angering Japanese/American military relations than to actually make any kind of statement about the Allies in World War II), but one could hardly be faulted for not realizing that one was supposed to be witnessing even an abstract representation of military history when reading any of the series’ numerous spinoff manga. A typical story in one such manga shows a Kanmusu shying away from her admiral’s attempts at patting her on the head (a very common action in KanColle media, meant to serve as a visual representation of the player clicking the Kanmusu in the browser game), then cozying up to him after she sees how much the other girls enjoy it – a Japanese answer to They Were Expendable, this is most definitely not.

The lack of anything approaching a definitive storyline canon means that KanColle functions as a naked database, characters and scenarios designed with the explicit purpose of application to any given fantasy the Otaku may possess. Now, if the franchise functions as a naked database largely devoid of structure or pre-established story, solely made up of the characters that populate it, what is it that makes the characters of KanColle so appealing to otaku, then? Azuma’s database model, in its unrefined form as quoted above, explains Otaku as voracious devourers of information, with the large cast of Kanmusu providing a great deal of information for the Otaku to consume, but a deeper analysis is needed to explore both the franchise’s popularity and the Otaku psyche.

Azuma’s contemporary and fellow scholar Saitō Tamaki sought to explain the appeal of female soldiers and warriors in “Beautiful Fighting Girl”, released in English as a companion piece to “Japan’s Database Animals”, where he takes a deep and nuanced look at the myriad ways in which Otaku culture idealizes and fetishizes the female combatant. As with “Database Animals”, Tamaki’s work predates KanColle by a good margin, but seems almost precognitive in its analysis of contemporary Otaku sexuality and objectification. While it is true that there are female consumers of Otaku media, as well as products undeniably identifiable as Otaku-focused and aimed at female audiences, both of these represent minorities amongst the much-larger male-focused Otaku culture that KanColle is a part of. Media such as KanColle is explicitly gendered, with the product identifiably female – the Kanmusu and their countless representations on anything from T-shirts to posters in any of the Kadokawa publishing group’s numerous magazines – and the player/consumer’s avatar a male admiral in control of this all-female fleet. Manga representations hide the Admiral’s face entirely, a move held over from eroge meant to ease the reader into assuming his role in the story.

Even when moving outside the realm of the game itself, KanColle has no room for competing visions of masculinity; there is only the reader’s substitute in the Admiral, and the rest are all female. This puts full focus on the beautiful fighting girls (to use Tamaki’s term), the lovely armada of idealized femininity at the consumer’s disposal. Tamaki describes the fundamental appeal of the beautiful fighting girl in the most basic of terms in Beautiful Fighting Girl when he says “Let us . . . remember that popular fiction, be it film, television, or manga and anime, is sustained by relatively simple principles of desire. Namely, sex and violence,” identifying fighting girls such as the Kanmusu of Kadokawa’s franchise as the most basic representations of what makes for popular entertainment.

The violence in KanColle may be rendered somewhat trivial and ridiculous by virtue of its patently absurd setting, but it remains at the heart of the scenario regardless. The life of the hermetic consumer is one almost completely devoid of both sexuality and direct violence (disregarding self-inflicted manifestations of both), and so these idealized versions of beautiful fighters provide him with these two missing ingredients in spades. With fighting as a given, the girls of KanColle serve to cater to every possible fetish and taste preference the consumer may have, with Kadokawa’s marketing teams more than happy to do the heavy lifting in that respect.

Of course, this is a hermetic work first and foremost, so the obvious catch is that it caters to every possible fetish and taste within the framework of the Otaku’s hermetic consumerist mindset. This is a vital consideration when evaluating works such as Kantai Collection, as, while the essential truths of Tamaki’s beautiful fighting girls are transferable to works completely outside of Japanese pop culture (see the protagonist of the “Tomb Raider” video games, for example), the more nuanced sexuality of the hermetic Otaku is decidedly not.To understand the sexuality of the hermetic consumer, one has to first make peace with the seemingly-paradoxical nature of said sexuality; in its portrayal, the sexuality of the Otaku’s beautiful fighting girls is at once both overt and covert, shoved in one’s face just as it is left unacknowledged.

kancoll 1An illustrated extra packed in with the February 2014 issue of Kadokawa-published pinup magazine “Nyantype” exemplifies this dynamic; depicting the ostensible KanColle mascot Shimakaze,[see image above] an incredibly young-looking Kanmusu with platinum blonde hair and dark grey eyes (typical of anime art styles, no discernible ethnic traits are to be found amongst the Kanmusu), in a state of undress depicted as entirely accidental – an implausible scenario involving her robotic companions the Rensōhō attempting to climb up her for whatever reason, colliding and in the process snapping the side off her scandalously low-cut thong underwear as well as lifting up her shirt to expose the majority of her pert breasts. While Shimakaze’s costume bears all the earmarks of blatant sexuality, with its thigh-high stockings, ludicrously short micro-skirt and excessively impractical high heels, official art never depicts her intentionally showing off her figure in any deliberately provocative manner; rather, the viewer is supposed to believe that she is unaware of her own sex appeal. The depictions of the Rensōhō robots inadvertently exposing her body are likewise cases of plausible deniability; their innocence provides a part of Shimakaze’s appeal as they allow her to be shown in blatantly sexualized situations without the presence of any hostile male sexuality that might interfere with the Otaku’s identification of himself as her admiral and only true lover. In comparison though the Western counterparts to these idealized anime lovers and wives of the hermetic Otaku consumer are often depicted with much morevoracious sexual appetites and a keen awareness of their own sexuality and appeal – Spider-Man’s supermodel girlfriend Mary-Jane Watson famously introduces herself to her future boyfriend (and later husband) by saying “face it, tiger, you just hit the jackpot”, as one of the tamer examples from Western pop culture – the Japanese equivalents are sexually naive to an extreme.

Manga author and sometime cultural critic Ken Akamatsu in an interview [“Opinions on Moe: A Response to Akamatsu Ken”] relates this to a “maternal” impulse in the Otaku consumer, saying “’Moe is a ‘maternal affection’ . . . it is a pure love which does not include any sexual action and is an exceedingly peaceful desire.” – Note though that he specifies sexual “action”; this is far from an accident of word choice: as the illustration of Shimakaze shows, there is nothing that says the object of desire cannot be sexualized, only that she cannot be a willing participant in a consensual act of deliberate eroticization.

The fetishistic costumes and provocative posing that characterizes many depictions of the Kanmusu are easily explained away as either accidental or otherwise unintended, and their desires for their admirals are portrayed as childishly innocent to a ridiculous extreme; the manga versions of the Kanmusu do their very best to please their admirals in the hopes that he might let them sit on his lap, pat them on the head, or – most scandalously of all – do both at the same time.

While Akamatsu’s declaration of “pure love” may hold true for the way the Kanmusu are portrayed in official media, his assumption of “pure love which does not include any sexual action” however certainly does NOT apply to the multitude of fan works that have been spun off from KanColle. In a phenomenon unique to Japanese media, copyright holders for anime, manga and video game franchises knowingly turn a blind eye to copyright infringement on a massive scale. Tokyo’s “electric city” of Akihabara, revered as Japan’s greatest tourist attraction for traveling otaku, is home to countless stores selling “dōjin goods” that place characters from a multitude of diverse settings in any number of scenarios – many of them highly sexual – free from the ire of copyright holders who know fully well that the minimal financial gain from prosecuting such infringements would be more than counterbalanced by the hit their credibility would take with their key Otaku demographic.

kancolle-doujinIt is when one looks at the wealth of KanColle dōjin goods available that one can see just how the idea of “pure love” is, functionally, nothing more than a smokescreen: the teasing, reluctant sexuality of the official goods fuels a demand for more explicit content, the covert feeding desire for the overt. Sexually explicit dōjinshi, such as Yuki Ameto’s Kanmusu Collection, show an admiral having sex with multiple Kanmusu, willing and ready to receive far more than a pat on the head (which, as Kanmusu Kongō can attest, “feels amazing”) – a stark contrast to the chaste official manga, but one that KanColle’s publishers are more than aware of.

Part of the appeal of this model for Otaku is how it provides a sense of community for the socially isolated and fundamentally hermetic consumer – if other lovers of the same media property they obsess over are creating dōjin goods, it leads to a feeling of kinship with the authors of these works. The Otaku may be fundamentally hermetic, perhaps never leaving the comfort of his own room (it is entirely possible to order KanColle goods, official and otherwise, online – I acquired the entirety of the Japanese-language research materials for this paper from Japanese hobby website AmiAmi, myself), but Kadokawa’s allowance for the production of dōjin goods lets that Otaku feel as if their actions allow them to participate in a greater community. Just as the Kanmusu serve as surrogate lovers for the disenfranchised and socially disconnected, the producers of dōjin works afford them access to a similarly ersatz community.

kancoll cosplayAn interesting permutation of this phenomenon has been the rise in popularity of excessively risqué cosplay featuring the Kanmusu, with some cosplayers even going as far as to include full nudity in their photo shoots – flesh and blood women turning their own bodies into dōjin works. Cosplay shoots differ from other dōjin products only in the fact that the women being put on display are photographed instead of drawn; the prevailing message is still the female as packaged product, the consumer’s eye assumed to be one with a heavy male gaze. While the appeal of the beautiful fighting girl, as seen by Tamaki, was inextricable from the violence of her situation, the dōjin world of KanColle is a peaceful one. The cosplay versions of Kanmusu are ones stripped of all but their sexuality, existing only to provide answers to questions like “what would the kanmusu look like in the flesh?” – and to provide costume fetishists with a variety of interpretations on the outlandish designs from the original game.

On the surface, it seems incredibly unlikely that Akamatsu’s “pure love” ideals could even be proposed as a possible explanation for the popularity of suggestive cosplay, particularly as the plausible deniability afforded to the purely fictional Kanmusu and their obliviousness to their own eroticism cannot possibly be applied to a living, breathing cosplay model. When Cosplayer Remika Tachibana poses dressed in the majority of Shimakaze’s uniform– minus both skirt and underwear, bare crotch only just covered by some careful use of camera angles – no argument could conceivably be made that she is somehow ignorant of the provocative nature of such a display. Yet, Otaku follow her on Twitter, read her blog, and eagerly anticipate new erotic cosplay photo sets; which would seem to serve as the final nail in the coffin for Ken Akamatsu’s idea of the maternal otaku, but things are not necessarily what they seem in this case.

In her collusion with the otaku gaze and desire to give them erotic interpretations of their beloved characters, Tachibana functions as the dōjinshi artist does; that she herself represents the product is nothing more than a side effect of the chosen media. The cosplayer is not the character, the character is one in the same with the costume she wears.


Just as the conflict between pure love and eroticism – with the final result being the woman as product either way – is one of the central tenets of Otaku identity, so is the tension between the internal world of the hermetic Otaku and the near-mythical holy land of Akihabara. Often held as the definitive Hikikomori narrative, the protagonist of Tatsuhiko Takimoto’s darkly comedic novel “Welcome to the N.H.K.” describes something of a half-truth in an imagined conspiracy involving Japanese broadcaster N.H.K.: “by broadcasting such interesting anime, N.H.K. mass-produced anime Otaku, thereby essentially creating Hikikomori on a large scale.”

However, with this idea of Otaku as Hikikomori comes the difficulty of dealing with events such as the twice-annual Comic Market (Comiket in colloquial usage) and the year-round popularity of Tokyo’s “electric city” as a tourist attraction for Otaku. Takimoto’s protagonist barely leaves the confines of his apartment complex (although the later manga and anime versions would go on to feature scenes where he and his neighbour Yamazaki visit both Akihabara and Comiket, for the purpose of this essay these episodes shall be considered apocryphal) – the Hikikomori of Welcome to the N.H.K. is, by design, a far purer representation of the hermetic consumer than one is likely to see in more popular media.

The reality of the situation is that these tourist attractions serve a dual purpose for Otaku that counterbalances any social reclusion they may otherwise prefer. First, in these places one can find a very real sense of Otaku history; for example, the so-called “electric city” was a hub for early Otaku hobbyists to pick up transistor radios and other such hard-to-find electronics in the post-war years, thus lending the area a sense of historical gravity. Second, it is only in these situations that an Otaku is likely to be able to enjoy the sight of girls in cosplay, inviting them (on at least a superficial level) to indulge in fantasy on a somewhat more personal level than that afforded by their video games and anime.

It is argued However by the writer of “Akihabara: Conditioning a Public ‘Otaku’ Image” Patrick W. Galbraith, who could be referred to as the foremost expert on Akihabara in the English language, that the Otaku appeal of Akihabara and, by extension, Comiket and its sea of cosplay idols, is actually false. “Akihabara became a place to be seen, and so the real Otaku left and were replaced by youth performing ‘Otaku-ness’ for the cameras”, he writes, making the argument that, as a part of the Japanese government’s “Japan cool” arts stimulus initiative, Akihabara was to be taken from a safe haven for the “weird”, socially withdrawn Otaku and turned into a tourist attraction where people could see something fun and different without having to deal with “unpleasant” Otaku. This transformation in image is shown by the aforementioned Welcome to the N.H.K., where the darker original novel lacks any pandering to the supposed appeal of maid cafes and crowded manga shops, but the mass-marketed anime devotes whole episodes to both Akihabara and Comiket.

While comparatively mainstream media, fuelled partially by Japan’s intentions of pushing Akihabara as an international tourist attraction, is quick to short-sell the essentially hermetic nature of the true Otaku, it is with analysis of works such as KanColle that one is easily able to see these tactics as a mere smokescreen – indeed KanColle itself is not the only Japanese media property of its kind, not by any means. Its creators built upon patterns set by Otaku-focused works decades earlier, and the open pandering to hermetic attitudes is similarly nothing new. What makes it special is just how pure of an example it is; every single Kanmusu designed for maximum appeal, the lack of any male presence save for that of the viewer’s stand-in, the girls’ all-consuming desire for their master’s attention coupled with a naïve unawareness of their own respective sexualities.

The Otaku gaze is as the male gaze, amplified to the highest power, and hermetic consumerism is here to stay so long as there are those who reject society in favor of the “2-dimensional world” of Otaku media.


Devon Fisher is a British Columbia native who, as well as working as a freelance writer for the Japan times, also writes about Japanese music and Shibuya-kei on his blog Memories of Shibuya.


Jonothan Clements and the history of the anime industry

Recently published on his Facebook page, Prolific writer and commentator on anime and manga [and in my own opinion one of the two best authorities on anime an manga in the west, the other being Helen McCarthy]Jonathan Clements also left us a gift of sort – ill let him explain:

In the unlikely event that any of you want to read my PhD thesis, the PDF is now up online at my Dropbox for a limited time. Those who have read my anime history for the BFI will find much cross-over, although the first 76 pages are much more involved and heavy-duty theory. The title is A History of the Japanese Animation Industry: Developing Technologies, Changing Formats and Evolving Audiences. It was passed by the committee yesterday as an “A”, with no changes required.

for those interested can download the thesis froim his Dropbox here.

Official Osamu Tezuka Youtube page

Yes im still alive [cold not withstanding – sniffle]
I was just wandering around youtube and stumbled onto an officially licensed partner channel by a company called Viki who are streaming Osamu Tezuka anime series, both old and new, and they’re planning to add new episodes of Tezuka’s anime back catalogue every week.

So far the page is streaming:

Legend of Moby dick
Underseas super train:marine express
Bagi the monster of mighty nature
Astro boy [the 1980s series]
Dear brother [Oniisama e]
Jungle Emperor Leo : The Movie
Black Jack TV
Black Jack [OVA]
The New Adventures of Kimba the White Lion
Marvelous Melmo (Merumo)
Don Dracula 8 videos | 1 month ago
Black Jack 21

heres a link to the youtube page in question.
and also a link to the anime section of vikis own website, where they have even more Tezuka titles than what they’re streaming on the youtube page.

In memorium: Noboru Ishiguro


24 August 1938 – 20 March 2012

What kind of place does Yamato occupy in you?

It was a pivotal point in my career. Yamato drastically changed my thoughts on what could be done with animation. Before Yamato, it had been said that SF titles would not catch on, and I believed it. But Yamato overcame such thinking in a positive way and changed my mind. It made me confident, and for this reason, Yamato is a very memorable work. 

On the 20th of March 2012 the last of the 3 three men [ Osamu Tezuka, Noboru Ishiguro and Yoshinobu Nishizaki] who introduced me into anime passed away.

Today the world of anime seemed that little more quieter for his loss.

Big announcment – Minamicon

You know, There comes a time in the career of a manga/anime/whatever shiny thing catches their ferret like mind/etc blogger where simply posting on a WordPress blog about obscure or unknown manga series simply isn’t enough – no there comes a time where –

okay that’s sounding hokey I know so lets get to the point.

I will be hosting my very first panel [titled ” I cant believe you havent read this” – don’t tell the reverse thieves] at the Uk anime convention Minamicon on the 16th -18th of March at the Novetel hotel Southampton. [my own panels planned for Saturday, the 15th at 11am – so not ideal for heavy sleepers!]

those of you coming i hope to see you there.


To be honest I have two pet peeves

My first is for the Victorian period, with it’s over embellished gowns, stuffy imperialism, insufferable housing conditions for the poor and its general…. Snootiness.

My second is for Animé style maids – you know the ones, the clutsy, half a brain Variety, whose only purpose in life is to either look cute, get chased by the male lead, or trip and reveal various parts of her underwear in as many ways as possible every episode.

As such most manga and animé about either period or subjects never really caught my attention…….

That is, until the day I was introduced to Emma.

Emma [or to use her Japanese title “Victorian romance Emma”] is a 10 volume series by the new and upend coming artist Kaoru Mori, with this being her first self – created series to be published by a mainstream manga company. It was originally serialised by the Japanese comic company beam commix, was translated and released in the west by DC comics’ late lamented CMX and has also been adapted into 2 12 – part animated series.

The series, set in late 19th century London, follows the life and times of Emma who, since childhood, has served as a maid in the service of a retired governess.
Yet her seemingly quiet, organised world is turned upside-down by the arrival of William Jones, the son of a rich industrialist, and the stirrings of love begin to blossom between the two of them.
However, in an era where a still rigid social order bars their way, can these two lovers, separated by tradition and birth, find true happiness?
Or are they doomed to be forever apart, either through circumstance or the scheming of Richard Jones, William’s father, who plans for William lie more in him improving his own standing in society than the feelings of his son?

The first thing that made his series stand out for me was the absolute attention to detail about Victorian life that Kaoru Mori has done on this series – testament to her research, and a standard that many artists and writers should aspire to. From clothing to mundane pieces of furniture – even to Emma’s ways of cleaning carpets – the research is exhaustive and extensive.

The artwork also shows the hallmarks of this diligence, with an attention to detail of the buildings, clothing – even the backgrounds – In way’s that make the series seem almost cinematic in its storytelling.

And it’s the scriptwriting, often the deciding factor of many manga, which compliments, and, like two halves of a circle, complete the experience. With every character, from the lowliest bit part to the main characters themselves, well thought out and realised, their personalities and thoughts so realistic that its as if they are living breathing real people, rather than simple drawn characters on a piece of paper.

The result is a series which, from start to finish, will pull you in, wring emotion form even the hardest of hearts, and leave you gasping for more.
the anime adaptation is still available from Right Stuf International and, while CMX is no more it’s still be possible to collect the 10 volume manga series from amazon.

Dramacon Vol 1

Never has there been a more heated debate than the subject of the original English language manga
[often called OEL manga for short] – can a manga still be called such even though its written and drawn by someone not of Japanese origin?does drawing a book in a style “influenced by the Japanese manga art style” qualify it to be a manga?

Back in 2005, when this matter first came up, one of the key books quoted and cited as evidence for and against ELO manga [and the first volume of which will be the subject of this review] was one of the then first of TOKYOPOP’S new ELO manga line – Dramacon.

The first volume of this 3 volume series [which was written by then newcomer Svetlana Chmakova] follows the adventures of Christie, a first time manga writer and long-suffering girlfriend of manga artist, co-creator of their comic and wandering lethario Derek, who, when left to her own devices at her first ever animé convention finds friendship [and possibly romance] in the form of Dramacon’s very own Mr Darcy – Matt.

The one good aspect of this first volume was the fact that much of the events that happen both to her and in the background of the convention are easy to relate to the average western animé convention attendee – from crowded elevators to the archetypal pocky salesman to even the ubiquitous catgirls – something thats not so possible with series like comic party or genshiken.

Another good aspect of this volume was the artwork – Svetlana has resisted the temptation to totally ape Japanese manga style with her noticeable use of scale and knowing when to detail her backgrounds and when to focus entirely upon her characters without making it obvious help the reader to focus on whats important on each page.

Now however we have to go into the downsides of this manga.
After making such an effort to create a believable story and a compelling plot line i cant help but find that Svetlana seems to have done this at the expense of developing her main and supporting characters – the background story got reduced to a quarter of one page, within which four mini pictures were used to explain as to how and why Christie and Derek came to the convention to sell their comic for example.

Also although Matt [fair enough] has to be left relatively vague to allow gradual expansion in later volumes i still felt that his personality was more like from angst ridden anti hero plot no#22 rather than that of a believable person you could meet at a convention.

Additionally there were two characters – a couple /chaperone’s of Christie and Derek who to be honest were wasted as characters – whose appearances it seemed were for no other reason than to either advance plot or to act as shocked bystanders – these characters could have easily been removed and their lack of presence would not have affected the plot line.

In summery i have to say from this volume alone that Dramacon, despite having an interesting premise with definite potential, fell short of the mark as far as a series goes.

Now wheres my Pocky?
all three volumes [ and recently a mega edition, collection all three volumes and an additional chapter which, while not convention based, is still a good read for fans of the series] are all available from Tokyopop.