‘I think that in the essence of human civilization, we have the desire to become rich without limit, by taking the lives of other creatures.’
– Hayao Miyazaki, Mononoke-hime Theatre Program, 1997.
Played during the Backloggd’s Game of the Week (Feb. 14 – Feb. 20, 2023).
In a child's mind, Albert Barillé's Il était une fois... l'homme (1978) had an indescribable mystical aura. Perhaps it was not so much the episodes as the opening that left its mark on several generations of children: Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor (c.1704) resounded in the background with all the majesty of the organ, while a succession of scenes depicted the evolution of mankind, even in a hypothetical future. In the final scene, with long and painful chords, Pierre runs to a rocket ship to escape a horde of spacemen who also want to leave an overpopulated Earth plagued by chronic and nuclear wars. The whole series was underpinned by the spectre of violence, depicted as the secret template of the human race, despite progress, art and the desire for happiness. Kenichi Nishi takes a different angle in L.O.L.: Lack of Love, but explores the same fears and frustrations, building on the concept already explored in Moon: Remix RPG Adventure (1997).
An alien ecosystem
After an introductory cutscene, accompanied by an ethereal and dramatic melody, the player takes on the role of a small insect born into the world following the arrival of a human rocket, part of the L.O.L. programme, which aims to terraform a habitable planet and transfer some of humanity to it. As overpopulation and epidemics ravage Earth, there is an urgent need to find a new haven to house human life and relieve the strain on vital resources. Ignoring these considerations, the player must explore their environment and help various animal species, seeking their friendship, which crystallises in the form of coloured orbs. These are used to activate crystals and allow the creature to evolve. Little by little, the insect evolves into a mammal, acquiring various skills that enable it to solve the game's various puzzles.
Unlike Moon, which was completely nonviolent, Lack of Love allows the player to attack other creatures in a survival perspective. In addition to a health bar, the player has to contend with a satiety meter that must be filled by eating other animals or the fruits that grow on each level. The game discreetly allows the player to choose their diet without any real consequences, as it is a simple illustration of an ecological habitat. This natural law of life is also reflected in the game's progression. While a certain number of orbs are required to progress to the next level, there is no obligation to help all species; conversely, nothing prevents the player from doing everyone a favour for the sake of altruism. There is an optimism about the living world that is beautifully underlined by the art direction: the environments are luxuriously detailed, with a very alien ecology. Although the species featured are reminiscent of the various animals found on Earth, they still possess an exotic idiosyncrasy. Walking through tall, curving grasses in search of strange-sounding pseudo-bellbirds is a unique and poetic experience.
To love is to live: aesthetics of the living world
This extraordinary and organic vibrancy is reflected in the design of the quests. One must either help an animal under attack, bring gifts, imitate other species, or play with them. The interactions are always filled with love and concern for others, contrasting with the coldness of the human world and the technologies used to transform this newly colonised planet. In the final section, Lack of Love provides a stark contrast between the two worlds, highlighting the violence of the L.O.L. project from the ground, without the instigators of this ecological disaster even realising the consequences of their actions. The experiments of Level 9 bring their share of anxiety with the tight timer, as a counterpoint to the very free and relaxed exploration of the first levels.
In this respect, the long waits for certain triggers are probably intentional, forcing the player to contemplate their surroundings. This approach has a lot of merit, but sometimes interacts unfavourably with the cryptic nature of certain tasks. Particularly in the early levels, it is difficult to know what to do to progress, and the fickleness of the collisions can prevent a quest from being completed, even if the method was the right one. This choice of game design can therefore lead to real frustration, which is quite at odds with the artistic approach of the game. Surprisingly, this problem is solved in the second half of the game, as Lack of Love communicates its instructions much more clearly, always without words. The sequence in Level 8, in which the player has to interact with another member of their species in order to progress, is an example of perfectly mastered game design that encapsulates the title's aesthetic project while being accommodating from a gameplay perspective. Similarly, the puzzles in Level 9, with their intuitive but very strict instructions, highlight the artificiality of the human world, with rules that now seem like a yoke. The remaining levels brilliantly build on this momentum.
Hayao Miyazaki and the call for harmony
Looking at Lack of Love, one might think of Studio Ghibli films. Hayao Miyazaki's artistic work does not advocate the complete elimination of human industry, but points to its negative consequences, both for humanity and the environment. In Mononoke hime (1997), Lady Eboshi is not a one-dimensional character, but finds herself at the crossroads of several challenges: her rational choice is to prioritise the well-being of her workers, even if this means destroying the forest. Miyazaki has always emphasised the complexity of societies in their environment and the difficulty of finding a subtle balance. Perhaps his most elaborate ecological programme is in Kaze no tani no Naushika (1982), where he calls for harmony between all species: the young girl does not hesitate to trade her life to appease the Ohmus, titanic insects with bulging eyes. Michelle J. Smith and Elizabeth Parsons write of Mononoke hime: 'The cult of cuteness embodied by the almost adolescent girl has both a perverse sexual connotation for the school-girl lust that is a known phenomenon in Japanese porn that Miyazaki subverts and refuses in ways integral to his environmentalist project.' [1]
This subversion is also found in Kaze no tani no Naushika and Lack of Love, where the appearance of the various animals is not intended to conjure up cuteness in order to gain the audience's sympathy. In both cases, the proof that these species are alive is what makes the two productions effective. In Kaze no tani no Naushika, the baby Ohmu symbolises the cycle of life, while all the player's interactions with other species contribute to the ecology of Lack of Love. Humans must find their place in this pre-existing ecosystem and live in harmony with it. Admittedly, mistakes could be made along this long road; in Mononoke hime, the resolution of the film is not a return to the status quo or to a world without humans. Lady Eboshi is still there, and the forest bears the brunt of the violence of war and industry. In Lack of Love, part of the planet has been devastated by the L.O.L. project, but from a Japanese perspective, this is just one step in a long cycle of regeneration. The ending of the game features the same haunting melody as the opening: it will probably take a lot of love to find an answer to the question of survival and existence, but the cycle continues, hopefully in a better direction.
__________
[1] Michelle J. Smith, Elizabeth Parsons, ‘Animating child activism: Environmentalism and class politics in Ghibli’s Princess Mononoke (1997) and Fox’s FernGully (1992)’, in Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies, vol. 26, no. 1, 2012, p. 32.
– Hayao Miyazaki, Mononoke-hime Theatre Program, 1997.
Played during the Backloggd’s Game of the Week (Feb. 14 – Feb. 20, 2023).
In a child's mind, Albert Barillé's Il était une fois... l'homme (1978) had an indescribable mystical aura. Perhaps it was not so much the episodes as the opening that left its mark on several generations of children: Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor (c.1704) resounded in the background with all the majesty of the organ, while a succession of scenes depicted the evolution of mankind, even in a hypothetical future. In the final scene, with long and painful chords, Pierre runs to a rocket ship to escape a horde of spacemen who also want to leave an overpopulated Earth plagued by chronic and nuclear wars. The whole series was underpinned by the spectre of violence, depicted as the secret template of the human race, despite progress, art and the desire for happiness. Kenichi Nishi takes a different angle in L.O.L.: Lack of Love, but explores the same fears and frustrations, building on the concept already explored in Moon: Remix RPG Adventure (1997).
An alien ecosystem
After an introductory cutscene, accompanied by an ethereal and dramatic melody, the player takes on the role of a small insect born into the world following the arrival of a human rocket, part of the L.O.L. programme, which aims to terraform a habitable planet and transfer some of humanity to it. As overpopulation and epidemics ravage Earth, there is an urgent need to find a new haven to house human life and relieve the strain on vital resources. Ignoring these considerations, the player must explore their environment and help various animal species, seeking their friendship, which crystallises in the form of coloured orbs. These are used to activate crystals and allow the creature to evolve. Little by little, the insect evolves into a mammal, acquiring various skills that enable it to solve the game's various puzzles.
Unlike Moon, which was completely nonviolent, Lack of Love allows the player to attack other creatures in a survival perspective. In addition to a health bar, the player has to contend with a satiety meter that must be filled by eating other animals or the fruits that grow on each level. The game discreetly allows the player to choose their diet without any real consequences, as it is a simple illustration of an ecological habitat. This natural law of life is also reflected in the game's progression. While a certain number of orbs are required to progress to the next level, there is no obligation to help all species; conversely, nothing prevents the player from doing everyone a favour for the sake of altruism. There is an optimism about the living world that is beautifully underlined by the art direction: the environments are luxuriously detailed, with a very alien ecology. Although the species featured are reminiscent of the various animals found on Earth, they still possess an exotic idiosyncrasy. Walking through tall, curving grasses in search of strange-sounding pseudo-bellbirds is a unique and poetic experience.
To love is to live: aesthetics of the living world
This extraordinary and organic vibrancy is reflected in the design of the quests. One must either help an animal under attack, bring gifts, imitate other species, or play with them. The interactions are always filled with love and concern for others, contrasting with the coldness of the human world and the technologies used to transform this newly colonised planet. In the final section, Lack of Love provides a stark contrast between the two worlds, highlighting the violence of the L.O.L. project from the ground, without the instigators of this ecological disaster even realising the consequences of their actions. The experiments of Level 9 bring their share of anxiety with the tight timer, as a counterpoint to the very free and relaxed exploration of the first levels.
In this respect, the long waits for certain triggers are probably intentional, forcing the player to contemplate their surroundings. This approach has a lot of merit, but sometimes interacts unfavourably with the cryptic nature of certain tasks. Particularly in the early levels, it is difficult to know what to do to progress, and the fickleness of the collisions can prevent a quest from being completed, even if the method was the right one. This choice of game design can therefore lead to real frustration, which is quite at odds with the artistic approach of the game. Surprisingly, this problem is solved in the second half of the game, as Lack of Love communicates its instructions much more clearly, always without words. The sequence in Level 8, in which the player has to interact with another member of their species in order to progress, is an example of perfectly mastered game design that encapsulates the title's aesthetic project while being accommodating from a gameplay perspective. Similarly, the puzzles in Level 9, with their intuitive but very strict instructions, highlight the artificiality of the human world, with rules that now seem like a yoke. The remaining levels brilliantly build on this momentum.
Hayao Miyazaki and the call for harmony
Looking at Lack of Love, one might think of Studio Ghibli films. Hayao Miyazaki's artistic work does not advocate the complete elimination of human industry, but points to its negative consequences, both for humanity and the environment. In Mononoke hime (1997), Lady Eboshi is not a one-dimensional character, but finds herself at the crossroads of several challenges: her rational choice is to prioritise the well-being of her workers, even if this means destroying the forest. Miyazaki has always emphasised the complexity of societies in their environment and the difficulty of finding a subtle balance. Perhaps his most elaborate ecological programme is in Kaze no tani no Naushika (1982), where he calls for harmony between all species: the young girl does not hesitate to trade her life to appease the Ohmus, titanic insects with bulging eyes. Michelle J. Smith and Elizabeth Parsons write of Mononoke hime: 'The cult of cuteness embodied by the almost adolescent girl has both a perverse sexual connotation for the school-girl lust that is a known phenomenon in Japanese porn that Miyazaki subverts and refuses in ways integral to his environmentalist project.' [1]
This subversion is also found in Kaze no tani no Naushika and Lack of Love, where the appearance of the various animals is not intended to conjure up cuteness in order to gain the audience's sympathy. In both cases, the proof that these species are alive is what makes the two productions effective. In Kaze no tani no Naushika, the baby Ohmu symbolises the cycle of life, while all the player's interactions with other species contribute to the ecology of Lack of Love. Humans must find their place in this pre-existing ecosystem and live in harmony with it. Admittedly, mistakes could be made along this long road; in Mononoke hime, the resolution of the film is not a return to the status quo or to a world without humans. Lady Eboshi is still there, and the forest bears the brunt of the violence of war and industry. In Lack of Love, part of the planet has been devastated by the L.O.L. project, but from a Japanese perspective, this is just one step in a long cycle of regeneration. The ending of the game features the same haunting melody as the opening: it will probably take a lot of love to find an answer to the question of survival and existence, but the cycle continues, hopefully in a better direction.
__________
[1] Michelle J. Smith, Elizabeth Parsons, ‘Animating child activism: Environmentalism and class politics in Ghibli’s Princess Mononoke (1997) and Fox’s FernGully (1992)’, in Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies, vol. 26, no. 1, 2012, p. 32.