J A P A N o F I L E S # 9 – Under the Tokyo Sky
[ As I was at pains to describe in the last paragraphs of the previous entry in this series, it is quite extraordinary that the first two video games that ever featured ramen as a central theme came to be released within mere weeks of one another. What is even more interesting is how each of them captures a set of distinct elements from this delicacy’s wide cultural spectrum. As challenging to me as it was to write this article, it is too important a videogame artifact for its merits to remain unsung in the English language. I could not have done it without the assistance from one of its authors, Souzou Tonami, who was kind enough to answer my every question. ]
~ From the wasted land ~
The imperialist proclivities of late nineteenth-century Japan, coupled with a shortage of raw materials for its expanding industrial sector to transform, led to a series of military campaigns devised to take over a range of territories in continental Asia, including Manchuria. The diplomatic incompetence of the nation’s emissaries is consensually regarded as the key structural failure leading to a cycle of humiliating defeats in continental Asia against the more astute and systematized Soviet sorties. This was a page too commonly ripped out of Japanese history, its consequences too harrowing for a traumatized citizenry to bear.
Two motives alone provide ample elucidation for such a state of denial. Armed forces occupying the Chinese region capitulated without much resistance, a complete contradiction of the Japanese martial ethos of deadly sacrifice before surrender. More relevantly, perhaps, the failure to hold territorial domain led to the death of dozens of thousands of its combatants and civilian settlers, the remainder shipped to Siberian concentration camps with the sole purpose of mitigating Soviet labor shortages at the end of the war. Only when Japan and the Soviet Union resumed diplomatic relations by the end of the 1940s did the nearly half million citizens begin to return home in a slow and gradual process that lasted nearly a decade.
This historical context serves as the background scenery for the 1999 Playstation tragicomedy Ramenbashi. The protagonist, Kotobuki Hidezo, is one such returning soldier finding his way back to Tokyo after years of forced labor, only to find that his father, the owner of a Ramen shop and a reference in the region for his enviable cooking skills, had passed away. In a farewell letter consigned to the owner of a nearby shop, he begs his son to carry his legacy. The same neighbors that had cordially sent him off to war overseas gather around to cheer his safe arrival and celebrate the return of ramen to the rowdy district.
~ Heart-mending soup ~
What sporadic mentions have been made of this Media Entertainment game in the English language tend to collectively and superficially misrepresent it as a cooking game. Despite the importance of its food preparation component, this is an adventure game that privileges dialogue and storytelling above all else. The events it portrays span over a period of fifty years. Each decade is composed of a total of four stories, selected at random from a much larger pool of scenes contained in the game; allowing for subsequent play experiences to differ greatly from the previous. Most of the episodes take place in Tokyo, where the restaurant is located, while others require the character to travel to more distant parts of Japan for a short while.
With each new scene, the player is introduced to new characters whose conflicts, rivalries, or difficulties Hidezo sets out to resolve by preparing a life-altering, bespoke bowl of ramen to suit the occasion. These characters vary between original creations borrowing from more or less recognizable social stereotypes: sumo wrestlers, salarymen, tradesmen, American soldiers, mobsters; as well as some rather suggestive depictions of the counterculture, as is the case of a hippie, a surfer and even a Kaminari gang bike rider. There are also characters borrowing their likeness and names from actual celebrities, such as the iconic millenium actress Setsuko Hara, the athlete Kokichi Tsuburaya, or the painter Kiyoshi Yamashita.
Equally, the procession of different eras is marked by changes to the surrondings, the commercial buildings in the street and even their owners changing their appearance and purpose in view of shifting trends. These include a tobacco shop, a bar, a convenience store, a butcher, a counterfeit article dealing pawnbroker, a public bathhouse and even the movie theatre down the road, all of them locations that can be visited to purchase a variety of items, or to hear the latest scuttlebutt. Through subtle and nimble strokes of the writer's pen, the the game manages to elicit the sentiment of belonging to a tightly knit community.
The march of progress: this shop just across from Hidezo’s ramen shop started off as a milk bar in the fifties, later becoming a karaoke bar in the 70s. By the very end of the game, his owner hopes to clear his long-standing debts by making it an internet café, as seen by the different iMac G3 colors on display.
Concurrently, characters also grow old, some even perishing along the way, their businesses taken over by similar-looking offspring, or repurposed into a completely different category of commerce by new owners. More importantly, the protagonist’s own aging process is one of Ramenbashi’s fundaments, a feature that sets it apart from any other game of the period. The designers were inspired by that which was arguably the most revolutionary electronic toy of the 90s, the Tamagotchi, loosely mimicking its branching path structure. Starting from the default, young Hidezo, seven possible outcomes can be arrived at in the last decade of the game. Aging well is, therefore, this game’s distinctive definition of victory.
An example of how Hidezo’s aspect changes over the decades. This specific progress path derives from a complete inability to please customers or achieve his competitive goals. Notice the complacently filthy apron. For reference, the final panel shows what is believed to be the game’s less eventful aging path: a well-groomed, distinctive-looking and successful ramen chef.
~ Perfectly timed shikoshiko ~
Irrespective of the player’s performance in purchasing or finding the correct ingredients with which to create delectable ramen dishes, the story continues, no mistake too irreparable to ever bring the game to an end. Customer dissatisfaction with Hidezo’s ramen creations, on the other hand, will invariably result in a stress meter increment which, once full, leads to an explosive mental breakdown. This, together with other factors that cannot be precisely determined, stipulate how the character will advance in his years. The ability to please the majority of customers stems from both chance and skill. Some of the most desirable ingredients are not available for sale from any supplier, instead being offered by apparently random encounters with characters on the street or with the purchase of entirely unrelated items from any of the neighboring shops.
The player’s timing in fishing out the noodles from boiling water using the tebo strainer plays a similarly important role in determining how delectable their texture is. The designers conceived of a highly original system whereby Hidezo hums a popular song of the time, assisting the player in identifying the right moment. If confronted with a complaint, the player can choose to remain idle, respond aggressively, apologize, clear the air with a joke, flatter or make up an excuse. Different animations exist for each selection in accordance to what version of Hidezo is serving the meals. The video below provides a more comprehensive illustration of how hilariously idiosyncratic these exchanges tend to get.
Character variations achieved through successful outcomes in challenges, with overall low stress levels, tend to balance his personality as he matures, always retaining a wild sense of humor, though with a calmer tone of voice and more composed demeanor. Contrariwise, when the character’s mental state degrades due to nervous collapse, his features and voice become those a lunatic. One variation leads to complete hair loss. Others see him develop a certain redness in his face that is characteristic of intemperance, or the bulging eyes of a pervert who overindulges in peeking through a secret apperture in the public bathhouse.
The game varies between dialogue phases, which occur in a quite basic 3D representation of a street in Tokyo, and a 2D view of Hidezo’s family restaurant interior, where customers can be quite explicit should the quality of the ramen fail to pass muster.
~ A place where the demoralized come to cry ~
The cultural significance of Ramenbashi resides not only in its inspired portrayal of Japan in different historical moments of the 20th century, yet also in the deliberate choice of location wherein the drama is set. In Japanese, the word Bashi means bridge. Its inclusion in the game's title is in reference to a historical Tokyo landmark named Namidabashi – literally, the bridge of tears – whose symbolism begs further inspection. During the Edo period, this area was notorious for being a place where criminals were imprisoned or executed. As the condemned were taken to the execution grounds, families would bid them a final farewell near the bridge which, due to the heartrending circumstance, came to be regarded as a place for mourning and lament.
The name should also resonate with older otakus. After all, it is a central reference in the manga series Ashita No Joe. In this working-class fictional favorite from the late sixties, the character Joe is a promising boxer aspiring to the world champion title. He trains in a modest gym which is located precisely under this bridge. There is a moment when Joe asks his coach Danpei about the reason behind the bridge’s cheerless name. He replies that it is because this is the place where Tokyo dwellers whose lives have failed come to cry. The answer provided, although historically inaccurate, is nevertheless a provocative commentary on the area formerly known as San’ya, wherein the story of Ramenbashi also takes place.
The modernization of the city’s infrastructure led to the original Namida bridge, currently Hamakawa bridge, being rebuilt to withstand the passage of motored vehicles (above). A representation of the bridge as it once existed, connecting the two margins of the Sumida river, is featured prominently in the game (below).
Located between the Taitõ and Arakawa wards of Tokyo, this urban landscape is hardly the stuff of souvenir shop postcards. For centuries, this has been one of the city’s poorest zones, one where day laborers and tradesmen found affordable and often unsanitary lodging. For reasons that are masterfully explored in the 1985 film ‘Yama - Yararetara Yarikaese’, an exceptional documentary portraying the complex social tensions between resident workers, the police, and organized crime, the Tokyo Metropolitan Assembly initiated efforts to gentrify and, eventually, fragment the area out of existence. While such efforts did result in the so-called “town of welfare” no longer existing officially in any map or traffic sign, its inhabitants have hardly forgotten the name, celebrated in graffiti ink over many of its present-day walls and murals.
This intricate yet necessary context is crucial for a deeper understanding of what the creators of Ramenbashi intended to achieve with this unconventional game. This is a project born from a desire to experiment with alternative concepts in digital games, one made to appeal to a more mature audience capable of grasping its references, deciphering its meanings and tolerating its over-the-top sardonicism. Whereas most interactive proposals of the time still relied on idyllic visions of Japanese society or joviality of anime images, the team at Media Entertainment worked tirelessly to explore Japanese culture and tradition from the perspective of a less endowed social stratum, alternating between tragic elements of struggle and the spontaneous comedy of everyday occurrences.
~ Shinobu’s Ambition ~
Very few videogame music composers can claim to have a career quite like that of Fumio Ogawa, in that he experimented with other facets of game creation and singlehandedly established an independent studio. His journey started at a young age in one of Japan’s most cherished software houses, Telenet Japan, where his first assignment was as lead composer for the original Valis game, ‘The Phantasm Soldier’. As the game was well received among personal computer users of the time, he was able to cement his position within the group and be considered as the first choice for some of their main projects.
His music accompanies some of their most fondly remembered classics of the eighties and early nineties such as Digital Devil Monogatari: Megami Tensei, Legion, Gaiares, and the deplorably underrated Mega Drive RPG, Traysia. Progressively stepping aside from music creation, Ogawa fell in love with project management, production and planning; a role which he was able to perform in his last years at the studio, supervising games like Psycho Dream, designed by Kenichi Nishi, with whom he had previously collaborated in the making of Exile.
By 1993, he left Telenet and founded Media Entertainment Inc., a studio whose penchant for original and inventive projects was partly funded through occasional collaborations with more established groups such as Konami or Capcom. During its roughly ten years of activity, their team directed several games, of varying market performance. Their cult status at present proven by the unspeakably high prices commanded by remaining copies of Kuyiin, Koro Koro Post Nin or the grandfather of spirit photography games, Kowaishasin - Shinrei Shashin Kitan.
~ Play it again, Samu ~
Sometime in the year 1997, Ogawa was impressed by the works of an illustrator named Kusuo Morii, his Oyaji no Kaigatan series in particular, consisting of stylized portraits of real-life old men. He pitched the idea of making a game about a ragged ramen shop and its owner with particular emphasis on old age as a theme. He also approached Morii to become a part of the team in the role of character designer, a contribution of immense significance to Ramenbashi, his depictions of the vast and varied palette of human personalities instantly amusing and brutally candid. Other noteworthy talent includes Naoki Hoshizaki as main programmer, whose previous work includes the Wonder Boy sequel Monster Lair, Riot City, and cult combat games Shogun Warriors and Blood Warriors.
Illustration of Hidezo as a rancorous and mean-spirited midlifer.
Tendencies in Japanese game planning were undergoing a significant shift at the time, as company heads observed the commercial and critical acclaim garnered by an exciting new genre they called bakage - as in baka gēmu - a portmanteau composed from the words "stupid" and "game". The staff at Media Entertainment was very much familiarized with the likes of Kowloon’s Gate, Segareijiri, Bakusou Dekotora Densetsu, Seaman or Moon, and therefore had a perfect understanding of how to integrate the disruptive design philosophy into their own work.
The love of movies is all-pervading in Ramenbashi. Each decade sees new posters hanging from the restaurant walls. If you look carefully at the above capture you can find Gojira (1954), Ozu’s Tokyo Monogatari, Kurama Tengu: Kakubejishi no Maki starring the legendary Kanjuro Arashi, Inoue's Arashi o Yobu Otoko as well as the matchless beauty of Hideko Takamine, of Ukigumo and Karumen Kokyō ni Kaeru fame. In later years, the growing popularity of American cinema in Japan is represented through the inclusion of posters for 2001 A Space Odyssey, Jaws, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Star Wars, Wall Street, Blue Velvet, Three Amigos, Apollo 13, The Doors, to name a few.
Among the several writers involved was Souzou Tonami, whose first assignment had been the adaptation of the popular manga Kaito Saint Tail for the Sega Saturn. Eager to prove himself, Tonami drew inspiration from his profound knowledge and appreciation of Eastern and Western cinema, adorning every page of its story with clever and witty allusions. He suggested the idea of Hidezo being an ex-soldier returning from the war, much like the character Shozo Hirono from the 1973 Kinji Fukusaku film, Jingi Naki Tatakai. Such a foundation was ideally suitable for the location the writers wanted the game to be set in, as San’ya harbored a great number of Japan’s demobilized soldiers as they returned to the hardship of civilian life, some embracing a life of crime. The presence of the Yakuza is also felt during the game experience, though in a markedly different manner from how it is portrayed in more contemporary video games. Curiously enough, Tonami-San was also working on a project specifically about the Tokyo criminal underground, but whose production the studio never approved.
One episode of the game depicts Hidezo’s platonic affair with the actress Setsuko Harada, who retired from film to open up a ramen restaurant named “Ricky’s Bar”, in an episode alluding to Casablanca as well as Woody Allen’s 1972 film Play it Again, Sam. In the end, alas, she flies off in company of an American soldier. They will always have Okinawa.
Due to creative differences and disagreements with other elements of the team, namely the planner/CGI sequence designer Yoshinari Natsumeda, Tonami exited Media Entertainment not long after the release of the game. Following a five year period working in other fields, he found his way back into the industry, writing scenarios for dozens of games between then and now, including Radiant Historia, THE Kanshikikan, THE Suiri, THE Bakudanshorihan, Oshiri Tantei Switch Category I, Nightmare x Deathscythe and Toriko no Tsubasa. However, as he recalls, Ramenbashi was one of the most memorable undertakings he was ever involved with given how it allowed him the freedom to move in uniquely strange directions.
On a sadder note, Ogawa-San passed away some years after Media Entertainment was disbanded, in 2008. In its last years of activity, the studio became synonymous with culinary-themed games due to the publication of their Gourmet Action trilogy, composed of the titles Yakiniku Bugyo (2001), Manpuku!! Nabe Kazoku (2002), and Yakitori Musume: Sugo Ude Hanjouki (2002). Their added focus on actual cooking of ingredients and mouthwatering cover art made them more appealing and lucrative than Ramenbashi, though they ultimately lacked the latter's offbeat qualities and audacity.
~ Voice acting masterclass ~
In a game whose substance is to be found primarily in character dialogue, the importance of voice acting could not go unmentioned. As has been referenced extensively in previous paragraphs, Ramenbashi operates in many ways as a bildungsroman, its extensive explorations of the main character pertaining to his entire adult life and how his personality and build alter over the years; the premise itself constituting a tall order due not only to the inherent changes to the voice of the character across the different life stages, but also because the game’s system entails numerous variations of that aging process. The daunting task of voicing close to two dozen permutations of Hidezo was taken by the legendary seiyuu Banjō Ginga.
There may be but a handful of voice acting works in videogames that display such a tonal range, from zany and amusing exchanges to utterances of hopeless despair; variations in accent and pitch emulating the exhausted vocal cords and toothless mouth of a geriatric; to all manners of chortles, cackles, screeches and bellows so genuine, spontaneous and unexpected one can only wonder how studio technicians were able to retain bladder control during the recording sessions.
The above video demonstrates the ease with which Banjō was able to transform his voice to match age of the character. It also identifies some of the popular Japanese songs capturing each of the decades, which Hidezo hums while cooking noodles.
~ East does not meet West ~
There’s little to be surprised about in the fact that Ramenbashi remains unknown even to the more dedicated Japanese videogame obscurity enthusiasts. As a small budget independent production featuring entirely original content, its visuals lack an appeal that would elicit impulsive interest; its themes secluded behind a very tall language barrier which few on this side of the planet can overcome. Though originally directed at Japanese audiences, it does have enough in it to stimulate a select Western audience, one who appreciates and understands a certain tier of Japanese fiction, namely Manga d’auteur; and not so much the average game playing audience who commonly looks at nipponic game creations for their more comforting genres and tropes, or the frivolous charms of japanimation.
The mandatory CGI intro sequence to the game includes a bittersweet theme written, composed and performed by Tatsuo Kamon.
It skilfully navigates between the tragedy of human existence and light comedy, the satirical lambasting of social mores and the sentimentalism of an airport newspaper stand paperback. It is an essay on the changes in social customs and the finitude of human life. It also plays an interesting trick on unsuspecting players, leading them to believe there is a complex restaurant management simulation within it – there isn’t one. Money earned during restaurant opening hours is only laterally relevant to progress in the game, and will end up being spent in items of no functional purpose. Moreover, it can be disappointingly punitive in the sense that the game’s best possible outcome is not achieved necessarily through a thriving business or even by emerging victorious from competitions. In truth, a certain amount of failure is compulsory for Hidezo to become the wisest, most judicious version possible of his future self.
Needless to say, Ramenbashi was not the success that many of its creators had hoped it would be. It is shrouded in as much obscurity in the country where it was created as it is in the West. For the longest time, it found itself lodged in a grey area between the conservatism of most popular adventure games and visual novels of its era, to whose codes it intentionally fails to adhere, and the seditious spirit of adult game genres, though having nothing about it that could be classified as salacious or risqué. Recent bouts of collective nostalgia in Japan have, however, generated a renewed interest in the game, with players seemingly drawn to its quiddities and matchless sense of humor. It was also picked up by a number of YouTube streamers. Just this year, the Japanese retrogaming label Game Impact published a small book about the game and held a event with Souzou Tonami as their guest of honour. Even if a transient phenomenon, such small initiatives have contributed in divulging the game to an audience who is receptive to its outlandish proposition.
Poetically, Hidezo’s last customer in the game is his younger, cigarette smoking self. Tonami-San explained that he was inspired by Fellini’s masterpiece Otto e Mezzo, where the protagonist interacts with a young version of himself, who can be seen playing a flute in a marching circus band.
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Ginja Banjo's photo source: Otocoto.jp.