This whole blackouts thing is messing up with my posting schedule. Anyway, while I catch up with my writing, please enjoy this scene from Otaku no Video, focusing on future Otaking Kubo’s indoctrination into otakuhood by the members of the Jack-of-All-Trades Club.

Marielle performs the only physical attack attempted on my person during the entire convention

(Read the rest of my Cosplay Mania 2009 report! Part I is here. Part II is here.)

By 4pm most of my crew were too tired to even attempt to reenter the convention hall and left just me and Marielle, my wife’s niece, to brave the crowds. I said I had to go back because I wanted to see the cosplay competitions, and Marielle wanted to go back because she was high on sugar, and she wanted to meet with her friends.

But I really wanted to go back because being in costume at a cosplay convention was… addictive.

Sese as Yowane Haku!

When we got back it was worse than when we left. A huge crowd had gathered around the stage in anticipation of the cosplay competition. I wanted to watch my friend Sese’s group perform but they seemed to be having trouble with their soundtrack for their skit — apparently they’d been told to submit their soundtrack on the day itself, but when they did they were then told that the deadline for submission was the day before, so they were in a bit of a fix.

We decided to escape the crowds by entering the Cosplay Museum, but before we did we had a short chat with Rotch at the entrance to the Mech Cafe.

Like a starship captain, Magnetic Rose commanded the entire operation with clockwork efficiency.

Rotch told us that they were still recovering from the previous shift, since apparently some rowdy customers ignored the queues, took a bunch of photos, and then left without paying. Although clearly harassed, everyone was still in high spirits by the time the last shift started and the crowds started milling in.

I checked out the costumes, adorning some rather plain-looking mannequins. Each costume was accompanied by a placard explaining who wore the costume, when it was worn, and why it was so significant to the history of Philippine Cosplay. The legendary Saito costume by JM Chua, the teeny Voltron outfit worn by Belldandy, all of the costumes served as a reminder that the organizers valued everything that had come before.

And yet… With the costumes on mannequins, I was struck by how plain the costumes seemed without the cosplayers who once wore them. Particularly the Saito costume, which seemed like a simple uniform without the razor-sharp portrayal of the man who for all intents and purposes WAS Hajime Saito, as long as he was in costume.

Gundam Girl without the Girl

Marielle and I lined up for our free studio photos that came with the Cosplay Museum tickets. Other cosplayers came in for their own photos: War Machine, the girl who cosplayed as Maka Albarn from Soul Eater, and Bumblebee. Marielle wasted no time in arranging a photo op with her and Bumblebee.

This Bumblebee probably transforms into an extremely tiny Camaro.

While waiting for our photos to develop, we watched the young mecha-headgeared maids and butlers of the Mech Cafe go about their business, to the sound of Initial D Europop playing over the sound system. Even though they were all tired, they all seemed to be having fun despite it all. They played games with their patrons, they cheered, they greeted new arrivals, they skillfully weaved around each other while serving tea and snacks. It occurred to me that these kids loved what they were doing. I doubted any of them really wanted to be waiters and waitresses, and yet here they were, giving up a Sunday to serve other people in costume.

Meanwhile, the mannequins and the once-famous costumes they wore stood silently, impassive witnesses to everything.

The silent Alucard mannequin in the foreground, the animated Mech Cafe in the back.

We stayed in the cool conference room for a little while longer, reluctant to subject ourselves to more push-and-shove. But eventually we returned to the convention center, just in time to witness a truly epic Valkyrie Profile skit. The technical excellence of the skit amazed me. The costumes were spot-on. The choreography (especially with the kurokos performing all the attack special effects) was breathtaking. If this was the benchmark for what could be accomplished locally then the mark was set pretty damned high. It didn’t surprise me one bit when they won. Their prize… a printer. Good luck divvying the loot, guys.

After this, we wandered around, checking out the cosplayers who didn’t participate in the competition.

You just don't mess with a guy who has a massive pyramid for a head and scratches all over his bare torso.

I spotted the Joker (Heath Ledger edition) posing for photos. I asked him if I could get a photo with him, and he agreed. I suggested a pose. “Kill Lelouch,” I told him.

“Gladly,” he replied as he put his knife up to my neck.

Look at how happy he is... and how distressed I am.

The facts of what happened next are in dispute. As far as I can tell, a girl and her mother went up to me and the girl asked if she could take a photo with me. Marielle swears that the girl said, “I’m a big fan of yours, I think you’re really cute,” and that I blushed beet red when she said this.

I have no recollection of these events, I’m telling you! (Plus I think she meant she was a big fan of Lelouch, not me, per se.)

At any rate, her mom took a photo of us, and then she took a photo of me and her mom. As she walked away, I gasped as I realized something.

She popped my cosplay photo op cherry.

The photo op requests kept coming after that, and I got more and more comfortable posing for them. I guess it’s only really hard the first time.

Why so serious? It's only a happy meal!

Something clicked inside me. When you’re in costume at a cosplay convention, it is everyone else who is out of place, not you. I felt completely at home, even though I was running on fumes at this point. I could strut around in costume without feeling the least bit self-conscious. It was, as I’ve asserted, but never actually experienced at this scale, as if I was someone else, as if I was freed from my everyday identity by pretending to be a fictional, two-dimensional character. If people gawked at me, pointed, took pictures, laughed, it only made them stick out more, as if they were tourists and I was in my home country, surrounded by wildly-different looking countrymen, but countrymen nonetheless.

It was truly Play, in Costume, like a festival. It was a Technicolor Mardi Gras. It was a rush. It was liberating. And as I found out too late, it was addicting. Because I want to cosplay again.

So when’s the next event?

Hi. We're cosplaying. Got a problem with that?

I was afraid.

Sure I’d dressed up as a few anime characters back during my college days, like Gendo Ikari and Trowa Barton. And I’d spoken in public a lot of times: speeches, oratorical contests, debates, and the occasional stage play or four. But I was afraid. I’d never done both at the same time. I mostly cosplayed at private gatherings. And it’s one thing to act out a role on stage, and another to come out and say, “I enjoy dressing up as fictional characters.” My employers would soon find something more than a little interesting if they Googled my name.

Costume was shaping up to be a problem child, too. The kindly old lady who had stitched it up was apparently a better dressmaker than a tailor. The collar didn’t close right, and the Velcro patches chafed my neck like crazy. The sleeves were too loose. The gold corners in front weren’t level. I had it sent back for repairs once, and then sent it to another place for more alterations. Rotch wasn’t kidding when she said commissioned costumes sometimes had major mistakes.

Wearing contacts was an entirely new and somewhat unpleasant experience, since I’d never needed to wear contacts or glasses. And wearing a wig was like wearing a hairy and unruly hat.

Also, considering the resistance my opinions have sometimes encountered, I was bracing myself for a battle. People had gone so far as to warn me of possible physical violence.

But that didn’t happen.

And a stranger thing happened: The moment I stepped into Megamall, I stopped being afraid.

Maybe it was because all around me were people in the same boat. There was a sea of humanity, some people in costume, some people there to support them, and some people to gawk and snicker. Or maybe the spirit of Lelouch descended upon me. Who knows?

I managed to obtain my Guest VIP pass without pain or hassle, although it did require me to stand behind a middle-aged couple complaining to Information about the long lines for a couple of minutes, while patient staff members listened to their suggestions. I decided to be as pleasant as possible. Little point in adding to their worries.

I was greeted at the Megatrade Conference Room by Mark Poa, who appeared to be as professional and efficient as the impression he gives off in his emails. In fact the entire operation struck me as professional and efficient. We arranged a few last minute preparations for my presentation (just my webpage and the logo of my webcomic The Vigilant) and then I shook hands with Marcelle Fabie aka Kel, whom my readers may remember as the host I had heckled back at Cosplay Fusion. He was passing the time playing Dissidia on his PSP.

After exchanging some friendly chatter, I said, “I wonder if we should expect any trouble. Especially from You-Know-Who.”

“Well, this is just a panel about blogging,” he replied. “Nothing controversial about that.”

What is it about me and controversy, anyway?

At this point the people started to file in, a lot of them avid readers of the blog. To those people: Hi guys! Thanks for turning out in droves to support me! I really appreciate it.

Rotch arrived after transacting business with my wife outside (business involving the exchange of cash and pinky:st dolls) and we all prepared for the panel.

Hmm, I wonder if I should've used less hair wax...

We were all told to give short speeches about our blogs. Which I didn’t realize was part of the panel format (having made assumptions in my mind about panel discussions), but since I was perfectly prepared to wing it it was no problem. Meann Ortiz from the New Worlds Alliance introduced us one by one before our talks.

New Worlds Alliance represent!

First up was Rotch aka Magnetic Rose, who had several orphaned mangas with her as an incentive for people to ask questions. Considering how rowdy the audience had gotten, she probably didn’t need to do it, but it was a nice bonus. As expected she was quite the firebrand. She talked about her experiences with UP Tomo Kai and studying in Japan. She clarified that anyone from the Philippines who wanted to join the Regional Cosplay Championships could do so, just that only one team would have their travel and accomodations paid for. (Which team would that be, though?) She talked about blogging for MTV. She defended blogging product endorsements, which I thought wasn’t really an issue since I firmly believe in getting paid for writing anyway, although I could see how some people would criticize such a stance. She took charge. She didn’t even need a microphone.

This is a woman who is used to being in charge. I totally respect that.

Next up was me. I pretty much rambled my way though my talk. I explained what an Otaking was, in the context of Otaku no Video. (Someone who has decided to play the role of otaku to the hilt despite societal pressure to conform.) I talked about Tags, not Categories. (Tags include, categories exclude.) I talked about Cosplayers vs. Cosplay Fans vs. Models (to some good-natured catcalling from the audience). And I talked about dealing with trolls. (Troll them back, and treat it as a game.) And I plugged my webcomic. (Read The Vigilant!)

All hail Britannia!

Finally Kel spoke. He talked about being a deejay and a magician. (He’s a mentalist by specialization, something that totally fascinates me.) I especially enjoyed the part where he talked about separating his personal blog from his magic blog. Also, he was apparently cosplaying as Ryan Evans from High School Musical.

Yep, I totally see it.

Finally the actual panel discussion started. We talked about blogging as self-publishing. I asserted that it blew the doors wide open for anyone with something to say to speak their minds, and that it was up to the Internet at large to vote whether your opinion resonated or not, by reading your blog instead of someone else’s. Kel made the interesting point that blogging allowed him to redefine his identity as a magician. And Rotch enlightened us on the perks of being a blogger for international media. There was a brief exchange between Rotch and Kel about wannabe political bloggers and blog event dilettantes that flew right over my head, since I don’t actually attend political blog events. And we all had a good laugh at a certain Boy’s expense.

The microphone was at Kel and my feet because we were the only ones who needed it.

This wasn’t so bad at all, I thought to myself! The discussion was lively and not at all hostile, like it seemed to be at the Mini-Summit. Or at the very least it was civil. That’s really the most you can ask for sometimes, and this was much more than that.

In fact the discussion was so lively that we went overtime, with the participants of the next panel (The Society of Young Voice Actors) milling into the conference room before we were done.

So after the panel ended, and after a nice lady whose name completely escapes me took my cell phone number in case she wanted to contact me for ‘voice acting’, Rotch hurried to the Mech Cafe which she was in charge of, Kel stayed for the Voice Acting panel, and I swallowed hard and stepped out of the conference room, in costume, and into the main convention hall.

And into utter chaos.

(to be continued)

Do you have something you believe in? Yes or no?

I’m not asking for the details. I don’t care how popular it is. I don’t care what other people think of it. I don’t care how weird it is. I don’t care if it’s ‘something worthwhile’ or ‘sensible’ or ‘realistic’ or ‘feasible’. I don’t care if others have called it ‘naive’ or ‘misguided’ or ‘deluded’.

Do you have something you believe in? Yes or no?

No? Then find something and don’t stop until you do.

Yes? Then stand up for it! Lead from the front! Push, advocate, evangelize! Don’t be afraid to hold an opinion that differs from the herd! Your opinion is just exactly what the herd needs!

Can’t do this? Too afraid? Want to ‘work from the shadows’, which is a poor excuse for being too afraid to stand up for what you believe in? Guess what? You don’t believe in it.

As long as it’s something you believe in, no matter what anyone else thinks, stand up for it.

Stand up for something.

Hi there! I wasn’t able to post the photos from the First Philippine Cosplay Mini-Summit along with the mini article right away, but don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten!

Without further ado, here are some of the photos we took from Saturday’s event!

Dr. Jaime D.L. Caro of UP ITTC. Join the Y4IT Philippine Congress!

How can we help you?

See you all at the next event!

(Welcome to my first installment of OtaGonzo. What is Gonzo? Check out the following links: Gonzo Journalism, Hunter S. Thompson, Spider Jerusalem, Anthony Bourdain, Neil Strauss, and P.J. O’Rourke.)

The LEGEND

As Cosplay Fusion started to wind up at about the 4pm mark (it was really too much to ask for it to start on time in our culture) I sat down with my friends in the sweltering heat, under a white tent set up just for the event. Already a line of cosplayers were forming at the bridge that hung over the Rockwell basketball courts. The cosplayers (and the costrippers — people in costume who were just hanging out) themselves were a broad cross-section of otakudom: Optimus Prime, Ranfa from Galaxy Angel, a Swordsman from Ragnarok Online, a cardboard box explicitly labeled “Box from Metal Gear Solid”, a loligoth girl about two inches taller than me, with a scythe that I didn’t recognize, whom I discovered was named Mia and was attending her first cosplay event ever. She was fourteen. I shook my head in disbelief.

"The *special* hell."

I spotted Mike Abundo milling around. I took a deep breath, stood up, and headed off to greet him. See, Mike, whom I hadn’t seen since college, is not a very popular figure in the cosplay world. Actually, I understate. In fact, broad swathes of otaku have an almost-automatic reflex just from the sound of his name. And I was meeting up with him in public.

I hesitated not because I hate the guy — although we’ve had our disagreements in the past, and many of my friends certainly do. I hesitated because of what people would think of me after this. No, I recognized what it was — just more disapproval from other people. NOT meeting up with him would be a violation of everything I’d ever said about being otaku, about being accepting, about living your life no matter what people said about you.

And Mike is a walking, talking, hadoken-throwing example of someone who just doesn’t give a crap. Infamous for, among other things, snatching up domain names in time to capitalize on upcoming local events (annoying, yes, but technically not illegal) and dressing up as an anime-fied version of himself named ‘Slick’ and hamming it up in front of an incredulous Yuu Watase, and a certain blurry phone cam video, Mike simply doesn’t care how people perceive him.

I found myself envying the freedom this gave him.

“Hey Mike,” I said, wincing at how loud my voice seemed.

He turned around and yelled my name. “Cliff!” So much for being inconspicuous. “Where’s your lightsaber, man?”

“I didn’t bring it. Wanted to go unencumbered this time.”

He hid his disappointment well, but I saw it anyway. Fact is, the thing was heavy. I was expecting this to be a long day of talking to people, braving the heat, and enduring the crush of cosplay fans and curious onlookers.

Mike took a couple of photos of a character from .hack and then rapidly introduced me to several people, most of whose names now elude me. The event organizer. A few cosplayers. A software developer and ex-employee of Google. The backstage staff. The owner of MaxiCollector. For some reason security would let me through as long as I said I was with him. If I wanted to get an insider’s peek into today’s cosplay world, this was it.

It was chaos.

And Mike, unfazed, was schmoozing like a pro. This wasn’t the Mike I knew from college. Well, he was, but with a turbo kit. Mike 2.0. He shook hands, bravely risking A( H1N1) infection. He showed genuine enthusiasm. He merged sets — meaning he would introduce different groups of friends to one another. Someone had plugged a very efficient social networking routine into his brain and he was applying the new knowledge to its fullest extent.

We sat near the front row, close to the crush of photographers that had formed in front of the stage after the band ended their set with a valiant rendition of “God Bless” from the Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya. The hosts came up on stage — the Gosengfiao sisters Alodia and Ashley as Black and White Mage, and a stage magician named Kel, who, commemorating the death of Michael Jackson, was apparently a smooth criminal.

I would get in Kel’s face very soon.

=====

Mike introduced me to a fellow who liked to call himself Bluzone. When I asked for his website for my phone, he didn’t hesitate to punch the URL in himself while I found myself holding the phone up for him. He informed me that an event or two ago, he got ‘faggot-punched’ on the side of the neck by someone I couldn’t make out because it was so noisy. When someone mentioned ‘GamerTotoy’ his eyes darted around. “Where? He’s here?” Then he walked off.

Finally the cosplayers came on stage one by one, introduced by the hosts. All sorts of ninjas, robots, monsters, superheroes, and martial artists paraded on stage, and each one found themselves being mocked by Kel. Some of the jabs were quite funny and referred to the character, but soon I found myself listening to him making fun of the person who had bothered to cosplay that day only to have his life choices questioned by a stage magician.

This made absolutely no sense to me. Why would you throw an event where you diss the people whose individual efforts toward their own costumes made the event possible? The whole thing depended on the quality of the contestants’ work, otherwise the event would be three hosts and a bunch of people in pajamas, kind of like those lame costume parties where no one makes any effort and everyone comes as themselves.

Before I knew it, the me that corrected my teacher’s spelling in elementary by going up to the blackboard and fixing it myself, the me who informed my Comparative Literature professor that her dissertation was ‘pointless’ (because it intentionally had no point in order to avoid criticism), the me that might get me shot by a congressman in traffic one day yelled:

“You’re supposed to BUILD UP the contestants, you douchebag!”

I wondered if he’d heard me. He looked directly at me.

Yep, he did.

What the hell had I done this time? At the first event I actually decided to cover myself? I was still an outsider!

Mike laughed uncontrollably. “It’s good to see you’re still an intellectual rebel!” It sounds so dorky when you put it that way.

Later Mike told me that the director told Kel to be mean to the contestants, so I was all up in Kel’s face for nothing. I apologize.

The director’s a douchebag.

=====

During a break in the program, Mike introduced me to the Gosengfiao’s mother Jing, who circulated the room like the proud mother she is, and their father Ed, the owner of a shipmaking company, who seemed to prefer fading into the background but seemed no less proud.

“I’m a lawyer who’s just getting back into the whole otaku scene,” I told Jing. “So it’s like this is all new to me, too. How did you first take it when you found out that they were into this kind of stuff?”

“Well,” she said, eyes looking up to remember, “at first I thought it was weird. Dressing up and so on. But this is their passion. This is what they love. So I totally support them in whatever they do.”

The expected answer, naturally. But how else would I have reacted? I thought to myself. Like any parent whose kids were into something I couldn’t understand, I suppose. If it isn’t doing them any harm, and it’s something they loved? No matter how weird I thought it was?

=====

I told Alodia the same thing afterward, that I was a recovering ‘normal person’ rediscovering my weirdo roots.

Alodia is surprisingly subdued and soft-spoken for a well-known cosplay figure, and likes to separate her very public public life from her private life. Being in the spotlight appears to be something she’s simply forced herself to learn. She told me, “I’ve always been weird. I’ve never been normal. I never want to be normal.”

“Haven’t you ever wanted to dress up normal and blend in, just to find out what the other side is like?” I asked, hoping that she would answer yes so I’d have an excuse for why I pretended to be normal for five years.

“Not really.”

One time for the cameras

Normal is overrated.

=====

After the contest was over, the awards were handed out (Mecha Godzilla banzai!), and the photos of the winners were taken, I said goodbye to Mike and everyone I’d met as they all left for the Maid Cafe at press, and headed back to my friends. It was like coming home from a very hectic vacation. I was culture-shell-shocked.

I thought to myself, every day I dress up for work, and I deal with people who wouldn’t give me the time of day if I was dressed in my casual wear. I cosplayed as a lawyer every day I went to work. And then it hit me: People cosplay as a single character ever single day.

But cosplayers switch from character to character, finding it confining to stick to just one. This is a part of cosplay that most non-cosplayers never realize — the freedom to change your identity, Optimus Prime one day, Wolverine the next.

Most people treat you as the person they perceive you to be, and usually this is just one image: lawyer, annoying weirdo, obedient child, domineering parent, douchebag.

Otaku.

Our friends, the people who know us the best, know that we are as changeable as our moods, and they accept the package deal. They know we play different characters every day, and we know that they do, too. We grow tired of hanging out with people who only see one side of us, who choose to do it because it’s easier than getting involved with the kind of mess that only real people make of themselves. Real people like the people I just hung out with, the people I just met.

People like us.

Back in UP, a particularly bitter Comparative Literature Professor who learned that I was a Creative Writing major coldly informed me that the writer, the painter, the playwright, and the musician is not the creator of art. He said, a smug smirk on his face, that it was the critic who created art.

I smirked back at him. Then I corrected his grammar.

You should have seen the look on his face.

=====

We are largely a community of consumers of other people’s intellectual productions. We are a particularly brutal society of critics who prefer imported entertainment products to our local fare, which we perceive to be of lesser quality.

This perception is only true to a certain extent. While most of the mainstream fare panders to the lowest common denominator in order to reach as wide an audience as possible, there are local gifted artists who either toil quietly, their work going largely unrecognized by their countrymen until after their deaths, if they’re lucky, or who simply give up entirely and pursue more sensible careers.

Things don’t have to be this way.

=====

Comiket (short for Comic Market), a yearly event in Japan, is the largest physical handmade comic book expo in the world, and is always totally packed, as portrayed to comedic effect in the anime Lucky Star. Here, limited runs of doujinshi (roughly equivalent to ‘fanzines’) are sold by their eager artists, who create the work largely as a labor of love.

Many of these works are the graphic equivalent of fanfiction, offering alternate stories that star their favorite anime or manga characters in blatant (but tolerated) violation of copyright, placing them in various situations ranging from the funny to the heartwarming to the downright obscene. But some of these comics are original works, featuring stories that are more experimental or more edgy or just plain weirder than mainstream commercially-published fare. Some manga-ka got their start at Comiket, like Yoshitoshi ABe, whose anime Haibane Renmei first started out as a quirky one-shot doujin.

This is an event that is centered around a creator’s market. Talent, like cream, rises to the top in this environment.

I’ve never been to Comiket. I have, however, been to the local Komikon. The emcees on stage kept drawing attention away from what should have been the focus of the event — the local independent artists and writers hawking their wares, some slickly produced, some little more than photocopied pages stapled together by hand.

Most of these were amateur works, but the trouble with our society is that we perceive rough, unpolished works as somehow undeserving of our attention. We prefer the slickly-presented products by large corporations to the lovingly hand-crafted work of the lowly artisan. The trouble is that most of the large corporations in our country aren’t from our country.

The emcees repeated the list of corporate sponsors of the event while a group of local artists sat at their table, bleary-eyed, watching people pass by, hoping to get the quality of their work noticed. It might have been a losing battle.

Things don’t have to be this way.

=====

We are a society of consumers. We are the passive targets of aggressive marketing campaigns intended to take advantage of our unwillingness to step outside our comfort zones. We have been conditioned to believe that local isn’t as good as ‘PX’, that nothing we could ever do on our own can ever measure up to the products of the big players in our now-globalized market.

I’m not saying big, corporate-backed productions can’t create works of legitimate art. I’m saying, however, that this is the exception rather than the rule, and in the homogenous world of corporate culture being too different is a liability. It’s difficult to compete with big business because the overheads are too high. We’re used to having products passed through lengthy retail chains, and small producers who can’t meet the overhead of buying shelf space and tv time and full-page ads get lost in the shuffle.

This is what I’m saying: Things don’t have to be this way.

=====

The Internet is the great equalizer. Even convenient class distinctions like A, B, C, D, and E (wonderful dehumanizing boxes that say nothing of the contents) are bypassed by the flat nature of the Net. As this very blog is virtual proof of, any moron with an opinion can, with a little effort, express an opinion that will be heard by a wide audience.

Unfortunately so far we’ve used this new-found power of expression, used in other countries to support charities, win elections or, perhaps, overthrow totalitarian regimes, to complain. We bitch and moan about our peers in an effort to place ourselves on top of very small hills. As River Tam accused Badger in Firefly, we all want to be the sad little kings of our sad little hills, and we do it by tearing down everyone else around us.

This is what I’m saying: Things don’t have to be this way.

=====

If you’re reading this, then you already have access to the largest Comiket in the world. The Internet has eliminated most barriers to access — both for readers who are tired of the same old crap from the major players, to artists who want to make their works known. Scott McCloud already foresaw this in his seminal (and controversial) work Reinventing Comics. So what if you’re some unknown artist in a third-world country? Discard that outdated notion that your work is somehow less valid than something produced in a G8 nation.

Osamu Tezuka began drawing comics when Japan was the backwater casualty of World War II, and he began by copying the Disney style. But then he eventually developed his own idiosyncratic art style that evolved into the sparkly-eyed anime of today. We all have to start somewhere. We all have to start by imitating something. Let’s face it, Mars Ravelo’s work is largely derivative of Golden Age US comics. So what? He paved the way for the rest of us to follow.

It’s a new age. The world today is vastly different from the world of Mars Ravelo. We have a voice now, and a grand stage upon which to be heard. Your work doesn’t have to languish in a dark corner, unread and unnoticed.

I’m not saying that everyone should up and become producers instead of consumers. What I am saying is that that anyone who’s ever had a dream now can.

This is what I’m saying: Things don’t have to be this way.

=====

At Komikon I found the work of the artist who is eventually going to help me make my own comic into a reality. I’m going to put my money where my mouth is. I’m going to be a Producer instead of a consumer. That’s what Project Otaking is — an attempt to put up or shut up, to contribute something instead of complaining about the way it is.

This is what I’m saying: Things don’t have to be this way. We can do something about it. All we have to do is produce. All we have to do is create.

We are the New Producers.

I’m an optimist about the local otaku scene. This doesn’t mean that I see it through rose-tinted glasses. I see it with all its blemishes and foibles. I know how cliquish and insular and fractious it can get. I see groups working at cross-purposes when things could be so much better if they worked together.

That’s not what optimism is. Optimism is simply the belief that things can be better. And I believe things can be better. I’m not saying things are bad. In fact that’s the reverse of what I’m saying. I’m saying things are better now than they used to be.

When I started collecting anime, playing RPGs and CCGs, things were really bad. You couldn’t find originals everywhere. The only way to get anime was to either tape it from the Chinese Star channel (Kimagure Orange Road in Mandarin during the wee hours, anyone?), borrow from someone else or buy exorbitantly-priced copies from specialty stores — and this was before Tenchi, which was the first anime Pioneer used to sell their new DVD format. I used to drive from Quezon City to Marikina just to find the one VHS rental place that had anime. The new Ranma 1/2 OAVs. UC Gundam. Orange Road. Even Otaku no Video!

To buy Magic: the Gathering I had to go to the house of the guy who was breaking the game into the country, somewhere in Cubao, where he personally taught small groups of people. You couldn’t even find starter decks in stores at the time, just Fallen Empires boosters sold by salespeople who had no idea what they were selling.

And RPGs? Fortunately there was a small but obstinate subculture that I found myself plugged into, but no one else seemed to know anything about RPGs except that they were played by socially-maladjusted Satan worshipers. Ask the lady on my interview panel for UP Law. When she said ‘Talk about anything’ to me, I said, “Let’s talk about role-playing games, then,” and she replied, “Mr. Sawit this is a serious interview.” No surprise I got rejected despite acing the entrance exam.

Things were bad. Things have gotten better. I know, some of you dislike the fact that anime and cosplay and CCGs and RPGs and computers and whatever niche hobby you’re into suddenly hit the mainstream. I have some advice for you.

Deal with it.

Seriously, if your niche hobby is as wonderful as you think it is, it’ll stay wonderful even if newbies learn about it. Do you see me whining about everyone having a PC just because I was the only kid back in elementary who had a PC AT? Do you hear me cry out for the good ol’ days when the only way to watch Ranma 1/2 was to watch some 4th generation copy that CATS charged me 450 pesos for? Of course not! Things are great now! You can get D&D rulebooks from mainstream bookstores. You can get new anime fansubs off the Internet. And every kid knows about CCGs. Anyone who draws their self-esteem from the exclusivity of their hobbies needs to get their heads examined.

We have choice now. We have convenience. We have a large community to share these things with. Despite all the flaws of today’s otaku scene, things are good.

But they can be better. I believe it. I’m an optimist.

But how exactly can they be better?

Well, stay tuned. I’ll tell you. I’m the Otaking, after all.

(to be continued)

My friend magiqa showed me this video of Jonas Diego (of Robo Monkey Pixel Fighters fame), Johnny Danganan (of Isip Ni Balbona), Gerry Alanguilan (the famous comic book artist), and Ryan “Raipo” Toledo, who are here today to teach us the very important and very useful Japanese translation of the phrase “Wag po kuya”.

It’s great watching local otakings goof around.

(The original blog post where this video was featured can be found on Jonas Diego’s site.)

(This isn’t an in-depth comprehensive coverage of the event. This is just the stuff that happened to me when I dropped by.)

The ticket lady’s patience was on the end of its tether. “One hundred,” she barked at me, holding up the ticket in front of my face.

I try to give people the benefit of the doubt, so I avoided dismissing her as a bitch. Instead, I tried to see it her way — for the past two days she’s been crammed in a tiny booth dispensing tickets over and over again to endless lines of the weirdest people she’s ever seen, some of whom smell like cottage cheese stored under sweaty armpits. I’d be pissed too.

If I was normal.

=====

SM Megamall’s Megatrade Hall was arranged in the usual way — events on the right, stores on the left. There didn’t appear to be any food to be had anywhere inside, which may have been a good thing. I pushed my way inside and started exploring the stalls. I bought a few pins, a frilly pirate hat for my First Mate, and the DVDs for Soul Eater, another series I ‘ought to have watched’.

A cosplay event was happening onstage. As usual, I ignored it and continued to mill around. Cons are very strange places to be at when you’re alone and don’t really know anyone. It’s like being in an alternate world with strangely-dressed natives and poor ventilation. I was trapped in a warehouse full of dusty toys and very-snobby crossdressers.

This was more organized than the last con I’d attended, which really isn’t saying much, considering how chaotic Komikon was. This had more polish, which again, really isn’t saying much.

As I was looking at a memorial wall of the work of a comic artist named Alcala who died in 2000, my arm got scratched by the ID of one of the con staff. I yelped and shot a hurt look of “WHY?” at him. He grinned at me and said “Oops.”

It stings.

=====

I walked around wondering what being part of the upper echelons of this lifestyle would entail. How radically different would I have to be to be with the ‘in-crowd’? How much time did I need to spend? What shows and books and music would I have to be into? Which people would I need to hate?

There was a very strong Us-versus-Them vibe here. People in costume shot suspicious glances at other costumed people across the hall. The MC warned people to keep an eye on their wallets and bags and other valuables.

I wasn’t here just to hang out though. I was collecting calling cards, flyers, leaflets. Artists, animation studios, voice actors, sculptors. This is Project Otaking after all. I still had a job to do, a mission to accomplish.

I looked around to see if I recognized anyone in the crowd but frankly I was staring at a sea of strangers. It felt like Japan again, I was an outsider looking in, seeing the tribe the way the anthropologist does instead of the way a tribesman would.

Again, I found myself wondering why the event wasn’t more awesome. I understood that ‘awesome’ was a highly-subjective thing, so all I really had was my own limited, prejudiced perspective on the whole thing — but that viewpoint saw very little awesome.  It seemed more organized. It was certainly more orderly. It was well-attended.

So what was it missing? Or was I wrong in expecting more than just… this? Whatever ‘this’ was?

=====

I watched a stall attendant stare blankly at the crowd. The day was winding down. Photographers blocked a main aisle to take pictures of the large Optimus Prime statue near the entrance, possibly one of the few images the mainstream readership would have a decent chance of recognizing.

I saw a bartender friend of mine, Hank, walk by dressed up as Jack Sparrow as he usually was at all these cons. I wanted to say hi and greet him. But in this strange topsy-turvy world, I was afraid he wouldn’t recognize me dressed up in a t-shirt and jeans.

Besides, I prefer to be Invisible at these things, like Jack Frost.

Or King Mob.

=====

It would be so easy just to hate everyone here like other people do, lump everyone into an imaginary average con-goer profile and hate everyone as a class. I do complain a lot. Sometimes expletives are involved and generously applied.

But that’s like Spider Jerusalem calling his readership The New Filth. It sounds derogatory. But it’s actually a term of reluctant endearment. Sure, people do stupid, weird, creepy, sometimes cruel things. But they’re my people. The New Filth is us.

And I didn’t go to this thing to stand out. I went to blend in.