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I like to categorise softporn anime into three types: Type-A is the unapologetic and shameless, where you might have a pervert flipping up a woman's skirt, the startled woman screams, while the man grinning lecherously. Type-B is the apologetic and shameful, where an excuse like bad weather leads to a skirt being blown up, the woman asks if he saw anything, and the shy man apologises while secretly relishing the memory of her panties, because that's normal for virgins. Type-C is the playing ignorant, where the woman strips her skirt, also her other clothes to change, then gives her breasts' muscles a little massage, all ... in front of a man with both of them being nonchalant and not drawing attention to the act, not because they're emotionless kuuderes, but because the act isn't considered shameful or the concept of shame itself doesn't exist in-universe.

Then the woman is saved from a train molester by the man, A is a scumbag who saved her for himself, or hilariously a sleaze unaware of his hypocrisy. B is a relatable hero for all virgin teenagers. And C, the man chases the molester to retrieve stolen goods because, in this context, it turns out the molester was actually a thief merely probing the woman's body for valuable goods, as the concept of molestation also doesn't exist.

'Waza no Tabibito' falls into Type-C. Presenting a rather lacklustre yet a serious story while constantly keeping the camera focused on the abnormally jiggling breasts and jelly buttocks of women in skimpy skin-tight outfits highlighting their erect nipples. Unlike the characters who don’t seem to notice or pay attention to this, it can be extremely distracting for viewers. This sexualisation could be entirely removed without any slight impact on the plot.

Considering it's highly engaged with its own plot and takes itself seriously is it worth watching for the plot? Absolutely not. Apart from the sexual elements and a few action scenes, there’s nothing original or interesting. The futuristic sci-fi setting about lost technologies acts as convenient magic. It subtly implies how the world is post-apocalyptic because of war and weapons of mass destruction, with a message about harmony with nature. However, it doesn’t explain much about the worldbuilding or the bikini-armoured heroine’s objective, leaving viewers to fill in the gaps. The characters are just plain lost do-gooders traveling aimlessly and helping those in need.

Except for a few scenic frames, the animation is fully 3DCGI, reminiscent of old-school 3D video games. Apart from the sexy women, the designs are plain and lifeless that it's hard to tell male soldiers and robots. The heroine, Techni, at least occasionally shows funny expressions during quick action scenes, which is definitely the only reason I kept pausing. The voice acting for the females was poor; I often couldn’t distinguish between Techni, her owl, and the young damsel in distress who of all names was named Ruri all had similar unnatural, forced, high-pitched tones.

Overall, it’s an admirable effort for an indie work created solely by Matsuena Shun, known for 'Kenichi', a Type-A horny martial arts manga. In Waza no Tabibito you see similar personality and peculiarities, like the care in choreographing sword fights and the attention to detail in animating the heroine’s erect nipples and buttcheeks on the transparent chair she sat on. However, the stock plot is ultimately an excuse for the sex, so it’s safe to say it’s not the main draw. I don’t recommend it unless you find the visuals attractive, or curious to see how far CGI can go with titillation.

Ushiro No Shoumen Daare (Who's Left Behind?) is an adaptation of Kayoko Ebina's children's book, drawing from the author's own experiences during World War II. This historical drama explores the theme of national pride from a child's perspective, seen through the eyes of young Kayoko.

The narrative begins with Kayoko's carefree and playful life, which is soon overshadowed by the grim realities of war. The initial scenes depict her joyous interactions with family and friends, painting a picture of innocence and normalcy. However, this tranquility is disrupted by the Tokyo air raids, which bring devastation and chaos, capturing the struggle for survival and the acute pain ... of loss as Kayoko's family is torn apart. These sequences are particularly effective in showing the stark contrast between the innocence of childhood and the horrors of war, making the impact of the conflict deeply personal and relatable.

Early, characters express strong nationalistic sentiments, with lines like, 'Don't worry. Japan is God's country' and 'The emperor is here. There is no possibility that Japan will lose'. These expressions of unwavering belief in Japan's invincibility are starkly contrasted by the harsh realities of war that follow. This misplaced faith is a recurring motif, highlighting how nationalism and pride can blind individuals to the impending dangers and consequences of conflict.

A notable moment is when Kayoko and her family are compelled to donate their personal belongings to the military to be recycled into weapons. Kayoko gives away her cherished doll to be turned into explosives, believing it will serve the country for the greater good. The loss of her doll is a symbol of act of sacrifice underscoring the heavy burden nationalism places on individuals, particularly children.

Contrasting this is a scene that underscores the confusion and innocence of children in understanding political complexities. In a touching farewell, Kayoko begins to sing a song to her family and classmates, unaware that it is an American song. Her classmates whisper, 'Didn't our teacher say we couldn't sing this song?' Feeling embarrassed, Kayoko awkwardly stops, but then her mother starts to sing along, encouraging her to resume. This support brings a smile to Kayoko's face, and she resumes singing joyfully, highlighting the innocence of childhood amidst wartime prejudice.

Aftermath, defeated, humiliated, traumatised, Kayoko wanders near her now-destroyed town. Before her lies a scene of despair and misery: Gaunt children desperately peddling tobacco on the once vibrant streets, a fleeing thief knocks her to the ground in a frantic scramble for whatever scraps remain, and lamentably, a boy who resembles her missing older brother polishes an American soldier's boots. This hopeless view leaves her appalled and devastated—a cruel reality check illustrating the profound personal impact of war and defeat.

The direction by Seiji Arihara effectively evokes strong emotions and conveys profound messages about the impact of nationalism and the harsh realities of war. The storytelling, combined with detailed animation and evocative sound design, created a deeply immersive experience. The contrast between the colourful, lively world of Kayoko's early childhood and the bleak, war-torn landscape that follows is striking, reinforcing the film's climax. The portrayal of Kayoko's gradual loss of innocence and her ultimate resilience is both heartbreaking and inspiring. Her journey is a microcosm of the larger national experience, reflecting the Japan's collective trauma and the enduring hope for a better future.

For those interested in similar World War II dramas, I recommend Hi no Ame ga Furu (Rain of Fire) and Raiyantsuuri no Uta (Song of Raiyantsuuri) by the same director. Rain of Fire critiques military censorship aimed at maintaining citizen morale, leading to collective overconfidence and negligence in safety during the war. Raiyantsuuri no Uta shows a touching bond between a Chinese forced laborer escapee in Hokkaido and a mute young Japanese girl, highlighting inhumane discrimination and a deep sense of nostalgia for home and family, further demonstrating Arihara's skills to create deeply moving, historically grounded anime.

Raiyantsuuri no Uta is a war drama based on real events, recounting the life of an escaped forced labour prisoner of war, Inlen, a Chinese farmer who was forcefully taken to a coal mine in Hokkaido by the Japanese military during the Pacific War. Escaping just two weeks before Japan's defeat, after undergoing unimaginable forced labour, he embarks on a challenging life as a fugitive, yearning to return to China, oblivious to the war's conclusion.

The movie establishes itself with a hooking introduction, showing the escape from the labour prison and seamlessly transitioning into Inlen's life being on the run and struggling for survival in the ... harsh and cold environment. With the goal of returning to China, where his wife, pregnant with his child before their separation, may still be living and waiting for his return, Inlen plants Raiyantsuuri, a Chinese pear symbolising their love. With unparalleled hope and determination, he makes a promise to himself to return home and see his family again.

On the other hand, Tomoko, a Japanese first-grade elementary student living at her relatives' house in Hokkaido, is unable to speak due to a shocking event she witnessed during the war. Often running away from home, feeling like an unwanted burden, Tomoko one day hears a Chinese lullaby in the nearby forest. The singer is Inlen. The unsual dynamic between these two homesick tragic souls who can only communicate with their emotions ensues.

Beyond the suspenseful escape and survival, the movie offers profound and emotional elements, from war-induced PTSD to inhumane labour and the ache of separation from loved ones. Inlen and Tomoko, broken spirits finding solace through a shared lullaby, bridge the gap between their differences – she is mute, and he is Chinese – through sharing feelings rather than words. In the midst of fleeting, peaceful moments steeped in nostalgia and reminiscing about the irreversible past, the evolution of Inlen and Tomoko unfolds as their experiences shape them.

It touches upon the sins of the past through the innocent lens of a child, delivering a powerful message about the responsibility to prevent further pain and suffering, while also emphasising the importance of acknowledging and learning from the harsh and shameful aspects of history. It also subtly touches upon anti-nationalism, reminding us that despite wars and cultural differences, humans share basic needs, whether physical or emotional, fostering a universal connection.

Raiyantsuuri no Uta may lack the captivating animation of higher-budget Ghibli films like Grave of the Fireflies; still, visually, it retains a calm charm that complements its mature and down-to-earth storytelling. It may not boast the grandeur of some war dramas, but it stands as a testament to the enduring human spirit, encapsulating a simple yet emotionally resonant story, distinguishing itself by presenting a surrogate parent-child chemistry between characters of seemingly different backgrounds, yet both complete and nurture each other, weaving a poignant and unique story.

Set in a futuristic cyberpunk setting, where humanity struggle against giant man eating insects using their advanced manned mecha. Kanata, the novice pilot, in a cave, stumbles upon a silver-haired red-eyed sleeping Ayanami Rei-clone, who then wakes up with the classic 'I-can't-remember-anything'.

The premise appears intriguing on paper and filled with potential for mystery, intense action against scary giant insects, and -even if overdone- the exploration of themes like human-AI relationships or ethical dilemmas in science. However, upon watching, it becomes apparent the official site's synopsis is merely a facade.

Starting with the positives, Synduality Noir diverges from the conventional dark and gritty tone commonly linked with ... such premises. Instead, it offers humour, employing elements of misunderstanding and situational comedy, and, controversially, some sex jokes that might not be for everyone.

Ignoring the CGI, the anime also features vibrant pretty colours and detailed backgrounds. The cityscapes during daylight and the cluttered indoor settings contribute to a lively backdrop.

As for the story, if I were to describe it in one sentence, it's an incohesive, directionless mess of a narrative.

The protagonist, Kanata, is a pathetic loser with skewed priorities. He is mainly concerned about his self-esteem and image. His pursuit of acceptance among his peers as a skilled pilot, despite having many supportive friends, makes him an annoying character to watch. Furthermore, Kanata is indecisive and often relies on his mentor figures, Tokio or Maria. For instance, although the audience is anticipating Noir to regain her memories, Kanata shows no interest in her memory recovery. The idea of returning to the cave where Noir was found and searching for possible clues and leads wasn't Kanata's; it was Maria's. Maria, who didn't even need to feel responsible for helping Noir, did so regardless, while Kanata remained unmotivated, leaving the weight of that mission on the shoulders of his friends.

Instead of aiding Noir, Kanata is content with her being amnesiac. He even explicitly states that, portraying a wish-fulfilment attitude as the protagonist is content to leave his android waifu that calls him 'master' amnesiac. The show doesn't call him out for his lack of responsibility. Kanata, rather than helping Noir, is more concerned about his image and reputation as a pilot (which isn't even bad or negatively affecting his life), and maintaining his kuudere android in her broken state. The show doesn't discuss or draw attention to Kanata's pathetic nature, and the only reason he has low self-esteem is that he isn't a skilled pilot, not because he is selfish and irresponsible.

Even Noir herself, whose personality is as dead as a doll, is more proactive than the protagonist. She is more interesting and deserved more screentime. In the second episode, she goes out by herself to search for clues to regain her memory, such as trying to fix the camera found near her place of slumber. Due to her being autistic and socially inept, she gets into trouble, being caught by a discount Team Rocket that steal precious androids. After a long rescue mission, the camera turns out to be empty, what a complete waste of airtime!

By episode 3, I was confident to conclude the anime doesn't regard its own premise as important. The episode starts with the main character visiting the Red Light City (yes, that's how they referred to it) to boost his self-esteem and manhood by losing his virginity to a brothel's prostitute (and yes, also wasn't his idea). What about the protagonist's goal to find Histoire, the Legendary City he mentioned in episode 1? What about helping his emotionless android partner? Nah, let's dedicate a whole episode about the MC going to bang a hooker.

Oh, did I forget to mention this show has supposedly dangerous man-eating insects of doom attacking the cities from time to time? They are treated like nothing more than a simple earthquake; humanity is still strong, living their lives normally, with no fear of possibly dying at any moment. There's no tension, no anguish from the victims' friends and relatives because there are no victims! It's fake tension; the premise is a lie. While the premise, on paper, sounds similar to popular titles such as Attack on Titan and Evangelion, don't expect a gloomy atmosphere and a constant sense of desperate struggle. The existence of these so-called dangerous monsters is treated merely as a decoration. The focus of this anime is the protagonist proving himself to be as skilled as his peers. Noir is merely a mystery box the show barely draws attention to, and the monsters are just plot devices that show up at the most convenient times but barely pose a threat, even to a newbie pilot like Kanata.

The disconnect between the advertised premise and the actual content leaves viewers with nothing but a comedy filled with sex jokes and soulless CGI action. Synduality Noir is a deceptive disappointment, a yet another shameless, low-effort video game promotion.

Manga Sarutobi Sasuke (1979), also known as 'Ninja, The Wonder Boy' in America, is the third iteration of the Sarutobi Sasuke character in anime, following 'Magic Boy' (1959) and 'Sasuke' (1968). While 'Magic Boy' adopts a whimsical fairy tale style and 'Sasuke' delves into a serious grim political feud, this anime attempts to blend both by being political yet goofy.

Despite its initial promise of political intrigue, the anime merely uses internal politics as a backdrop for conflicts. The plot centres around the samurai and warlord Sanada Yukimura in the Sengoku period, who fights in the name of peace. Sasuke, who shares those ideals, pledges allegiance ... to Lord Sanada and undertakes various daily missions, such as espionage, sabotaging enemy arsenals, and thwarting their evil schemes. The core conflict involves Sasuke's clashes with a rival ninja clan serving the enemy. This clan frequently dispatches its top elite ninjas to eliminate Sasuke, assassinate Sanada, aid the enemy's schemes, or simply act as bodyguards.

The series quickly falls into a repetitive pattern. It adopts a 'monster of the week' formula, or rather, 'ninja of the week', with each episode featuring a new enemy ninja. The promised cool ninja action and battles fail to deliver excitement, as the fights become monotonous, especially during climactic showdowns where Sasuke and his opponents often transform into huge kaiju monsters. Furthermore, the overuse of ninja tricks, such as substituting themselves with logs or other objects, diminishes the tension, as both sides can employ deus ex machina ninja magic to escape danger.

Visually, the anime stands out with its pretty bright colours and catchy visual effects. Alas, the limitations of the series' budget become apparent, evident in the frequent reuse of animation sequences after just a few episodes.

Although the series may evoke nostalgia for certain viewers, especially those who watched it dubbed during their youth, it's not recommended for those seeking immersive experience.

In the animation history landscape, Tteodori Kkachi holds a special place as the first South Korean anime to grace television screens. This pioneering creation emerged as a special movie-length episode, a testament to the evolving landscape of South Korean animation. Adapted from a sports manhwa created by Lee Hyun-se in 1984, Tteodori Kkachi introduces us to the world of Seol Kkachi, a young boy who, for years, has been embarking on a wandering journey alongside Seol Dae-po, his father. Now, a pivotal juncture has arrived—a moment to ponder settling down.

The series unfurls on Kkachi's first day at a new school, his initial cheekiness leaving an ... unfavourable impression. As a series of events unfold, his enigmatic background gradually comes to light. We uncover the story of a motherless child who has spent his life in perpetual wandering. However, beneath the surface of his hardships, Kkachi's irrepressible cheerfulness remains unscathed. It is Ma Dong-tak, captain of the school's baseball team, who becomes the harbinger of change. Noticing Kkachi's extraordinary baseball skills, Ma Dong-tak extends an invitation to join the team—a proposition Kkachi initially refuses.

The narrative gains complexity as Kkachi's father, Seol Dae-po, finds himself entangled in a new relationship. This poignant story, involving a financially burdened widow caring for her crippled daughter, prompts Dae-po to make a life-altering decision. Meanwhile, Kkachi's journey takes him onto the school's baseball team guided by Ma Dong-tak. However, simmering tensions surface as Dae-po's remarriage forces Kkachi to confront his past, thrusting him into a struggle to embrace the present. His ongoing emotional turmoil, stemming from the loss of his mother, impedes his integration into the new family structure.

Guided by Ma Dong-tak's counsel, Kkachi dedicates himself to baseball, leading the team through preliminary rounds. Simultaneously, the dynamics within his own family take a turn. Dae-po's remarriage prompts Kkachi's contemplation of his mother's memory—a struggle characterised not by a dislike for his new family, but by a lingering attachment to the past. Overcoming this emotional turmoil and adapting to the radical change in his life emerge as the crux of his journey—a journey that ultimately leads to settling down after years of wandering.

As the plot weaves further, Dae-po's travels abroad to fund the operation of Dal-hee, his remarried wife's daughter, leave the family separated. This development pushes Kkachi into the challenging terrain of reconciliation with his stepmother and stepsister. Guided by the camaraderie of Ma Dong-tak, Kkachi assumes a leadership role, striving to lead the baseball team to victory.

In the midst of these events, Kkachi forms bonds, particularly with Choe Eomji—a gloomy track and field runner and a fellow schoolmate. As their interactions unfold, a love interest emerges. Through heartfelt conversations, they peel away the layers of their lives, sharing their struggles and worries, gradually lifting the weight off their shoulders, ultimately finding solace through their conversations.

The protagonist's unique character design featuring a funny peculiar hair, was actually based on a South Korean celebrity named Cho Sang-gu, who was also an old friend of the creator. The name 'Kkachi', derived from the Korean word for Magpie, a bird species renowned for its ceaseless journeys across continents, serves as a poignant reflection of the protagonist's transient lifestyle within the confines of a truck trailer.

Amidst these intricate narratives, Dallyeola Hani emerges as a parallel franchise within South Korean animation. Born from a sports manhwa in 1985, it ascended to greater popularity and success than its spiritual predecessor, Tteodori Kkachi. Uncanny similarities pervade character dynamics and narrative direction, notably the shared experiences of protagonists grappling with the death of their mothers. The journey to reconcile with their stepmothers, while depicted differently, remains connected by a common narrative thread. Even a few character designs exhibit eerie resemblances, most notably Hani's nemesis rival, Na Aeri to Eomji—both were also track and field runners. However, Dallyeola Hani takes an exaggerated approach; it's more dramatic, tragic, and violent, a style that may be deemed 'edgy' and immature by discerning viewers. In contrast, Tteodori Kkachi adheres to a measured tone grounded in realism. Although personally, I still prefer Dallyeola Hani.

You might be wondering why, given its mature approach, I hold Kkachi in lower esteem compared to Hani. The rationale lies in the broader array of characters and the more intricate character dynamics Hani offers. Despite its movie-length format, the pacing of Tteodori Kkachi tends to meander, with crucial plot developments unfolding at a dragging pace. Furthermore, Eomji, Kkachi's love interest, remains insufficiently explored. A silent flashback only hints at an argument between her and Ma Dong-tak, presumably linked to his unwavering commitment to baseball—a facet that strains his relationships with friends and family. This sort of dramatic plot point finds a more fitting home in sports anime delving into social themes, much like in Ping Pong the Animation.

Kkachi's struggle to adapt to his new life, while rooted in reality, proves tedious to watch. It's a challenge that doesn't demand immediate resolution, but rather unfolds with time. Kkachi requires time, and as viewers, we're left waiting. Although Kkachi's tribulations stem from his own choices, like his collapse due to malnutrition, they fail to significantly impact other characters or generate broader consequences. In my opinion, these shortcomings that render Kkachi monotonous find resolution in Dallyeola Hani. The latter artfully interweaves characters' individual problems, causing ripples that disturb the equilibrium of their interactions. The resulting chemistry and multifaceted character development prove much more engaging than solitary struggles, particularly when confronting issues that demand specific actions rather than passive waiting, as seen in the mundane 'getting used to' arc.

I don't recommend Tteodori Kkachi due to the reasons I've mentioned. It's not a show I'd even suggest for baseball enthusiasts. Don't watch it unless you're really curious about experiencing the first South Korean TV anime.

Rainbow Sentai Robin is based on a shounen manga titled 'Rainbow Sentai', published in 1965. The manga was meant to complement the anime but, after a single volume release, it was quickly cancelled due to lack of popularity. Labelling the anime a direct adaptation of the brief one-shot manga is a stretch, considering its extensive 48-episode run. Consequently, the anime integrates significant original content, differentiating it from the source material.

The series kicks off with the trappings of a generic tokusatsu anime, an unsurprising—and uninspiring—choice given the genre's prominence across various forms of Japanese media during the 1960s and 1970s. However, Rainbow Sentai Robin distinguishes itself ... from its contemporary tokusatsu peers such as Astro Boy, Space Ace, Gigantor, and Eighth Man. Unlike these shows, it succeeds in achieving a unique balance within its main cast. While the titular character Robin's name adorns the series, he doesn't bear the sole burden of action. Each member of Rainbow Sentai contributes significantly to the team, with all enjoying their fair share of screen time despite not necessarily driving the overarching plot.

Drawing from the 1960s, Rainbow Sentai Robin exudes the unmistakable aura of its era. Presented in black and white, its distinct lack of pretty colours is a hallmark of the time. The animation quality, influenced by the period's limitations, occasionally relies on recycled animation footage, a common occurrence throughout its 48-episode run. Given its historical context, these constraints are to be expected in an old anime series.

— MIDWAY CONCLUSION —
Unfortunately, the narrative structure falters in providing a satisfying conclusion. The real climax emerges around the midpoint (episode 26), leaving the latter segment of the series without proper closure. Ideally, the series could have wrapped up at episode 26, providing a more gratifying resolution to the overarching storyline. Despite that atrocious conclusion, this episode effectively achieves a fitting climax after a proper build-up. As for the actual final episode, it comes across as another filler episode that could fit anywhere in the series, failing to feel like a conclusive ending for the series.

— OFFENSIVE ELEMENTS OR DARK HUMOUR? —
The anime embodies elements reflective of its 1960s context, which may not align with modern sensitivities. Instances of violence towards animals and women, especially the portrayal of female characters as inept and unintelligent, evoke concerns of sexism. Additionally, the inclusion of stereotypical depictions of certain ethnicities like black Africans and Mexicans could potentially be perceived as racist. The protagonist, Robin, at times exhibits traits characteristic of a sociopathic hero, as seen in his cold murdering of villains, assaulting animals, and physical aggression towards women. He also employs ruthless pragmatic tactics to overcome his enemies without batting an eye. This type of unintentional contentious sociopathy, reminiscent of the infamous Speed Racer, might resonate with aficionados of dark humour, provided they approach it from an unserious perspective.

— CHARACTER DYNAMICS AND ATTRIBUTES —
The heart of Rainbow Sentai undeniably resides in its compelling cast of characters. Each main character contributes significantly to the show's appeal. Every member boasts a distinctive design, personality, and special abilities, all of which are utilised to foster teamwork and accomplish tasks. This synergy among the cast members is evident in their seamless cooperation and complementation. Robin, while occupying the lead role, doesn't monopolise the spotlight. His leadership entails intricate planning, coordination, and tactical strategy, enriching the show's dynamics.

— ROBIN —
The titular protagonist, Robin, serves as the sole human member and leader of Rainbow Sentai. Despite lacking extraordinary abilities, he's far from being a mere pushover. Agile and proficient in piloting his trusty Pegasus, he's also a skilled shooter. Robin's vulnerability as a human, being susceptible to injuries and temperature extremes, adds a touch of humanity to his character, which becomes especially noteworthy considering how other ostensibly robot characters deviate from robotic behaviour, whether in humuorous or serious scenes. His connection to the overarching plot emerges late—unfortunately, too late—revealing a rescue mission to free his parents from an evil, nazi-looking army force. Robin's stern demeanor and intolerance for mistakes often influence his interactions with teammates, inadvertently leading to strained relationships.

— PROFESSOR —
The Professor, a wise-looking short robot, plays a crucial role as an advisor. Exhibiting an air of arrogance and occasional comedic anger, he provides valuable scientific insights and hacking abilities, positioning him—implicitly—as the second-in-command. He's often seen beside Robin in important meetings, advising him, or even leading the team in Robin's absence. Similar to Robin, he's stern, but he's even more prone to getting angry, usually in a comically humuorous manner. At times, he acts arrogantly and tries to claim all the credit, yet beneath it all, he's genuinely kind and caring towards the other members. This is evident when he expresses concern for their well-being or shows relief when they survive challenging situations. To Robin, he serves as a father figure, not just because of his age and wisdom, but because he raised Robin from infancy, a time when Robin lost his biological parents.

— LILI —
Lili is the designated token female member of the team, designed with a nurse-like appearance. Her design is not solely driven by uniform fetishes but rather aligns with her role as the team's healer. She possesses the unique ability to swiftly mend human injuries and repair robot parts. Additionally, she played a nurturing role in Robin's upbringing, alongside Professor, and served as a mother figure—as mentioned in the anime. But she also displays a romantic interest in Robin; we have a figurative cyber-incest here everyone! Yay!

Anyway, Lili conforms to the archetype of the 'token girl', embodying certain gender-related stereotypes. She engages in activities stereotypically associated with girls, such as indulging in romantic daydreams, dancing and singing with joy, and having an affinity for shopping and fashion. On occasion, she makes awkward attempts to seduce Robin, which often end in failure. Paradoxically, she herself becomes the target of enemy spies' attempts at seduction, inadvertently placing the team in jeopardy. resulting Robin to get angry at her to the point of physically assaulting her.

Despite these idiosyncrasies, Lili is a very valuable asset to Rainbow Sentai, and one of my favourite characters in the show due to the funny situations that happens whenever she's involved.

— BELL —
Lili isn't the sole female character on the team. Another female presence is Bell, a female cat with a unique role as a radar for detecting enemy presence and suspicious activities. Bell also possesses the ability to project false images to deceive enemies or to create visual aids, akin to a slide show presentation. Additionally, she can record and play back events or cassette tapes.

Bell's character is marked by her sarcastic personality, which contributes to her humourous interactions but sadly was somewhat underutilised. She often accompanies Professor, likely due to her small size that allows her to fit into various places, like inside Benkei, the colossal robot. Her interactions with Professor frequently involve heated arguments.

— BENKEI —
Benkei, a colossal yet gentle robot, assumes the role of the team's muscle. His polite and apologetic demeanour contrasts his imposing appearance. His propensity for creating unintentional problems for the squad provides a source of humour, often resulting in angering Professor while poor Benkei keeps apologising. His role is to provide the necessary muscle for the team, or provide energy for the Professor when the old man is low on power, and by provide energy I meant breastfeeding him—I am not joking—.

— WOLF —
Wolf, the suave sharpshooter, adds a rule of cool to the team. Operating as both an espionage expert and formidable combatant, his tendency towards overconfidence often leads to entertaining predicaments. Sporting stylish sunglasses and dual-wielding a pair of guns, Wolf is undoubtedly the coolest member of the team. He boasts impressive speed, agility, and shooting skills, and can even disguise himself as objects like trees or furniture, and even imitate enemies. His primary role involves espionage and intelligence gathering, but he frequently takes on offensive tasks by leading the charge against the enemy. Despite his occasional overconfidence and recklessness that can get him into trouble, he remains a valuable tactician, positioning him as a strong contender for the third-in-command role due to his strategic prowess.

— PEGASUS —
I saved Pegasus for the last as he's the least interesting character in Rainbow Sentai. He serves as the supersonic aircraft piloted by Robin, capable of transforming into a rocket or a submarine as well. He doesn't engage extensively with the other team members, but it's understandable given his apparent disdain for being piloted by less skilled handlers like Lili, in a playful nod to the 'women can't drive' stereotype. Setting jokes aside, Pegasus falls on the less interesting side of the spectrum. He remains inconspicuous, which in my opinion is preferable to forcing interactions with a character who lacks a compelling personality. Offering him the modest screen time he warrants without attempting to flesh out his uninteresting persona was a prudent choice.

— CONCLUSION —
While Rainbow Sentai Robin stands out for its engaging character dynamics, enjoyable action sequences, as well as moments of slapstick comedy, I cannot recommend the anime. It's drawn-out, incohesively structred with a disappointing conclusion and second half. Those curious about black and white anime or 1960s anime, better alternatives can be found in its superior predecessor, Cyborg 009, or Dororo, which offer more serious and cohesive storytelling, artistic cinematic visuals, and meaningful themes.

'Recently, My Sister Is Unusual' light novel introduces Mitsuki's emotional trauma resulting from her parents' divorce. This premise explores Mitsuki's struggles with feelings of abandonment and her attempts to cope with her new family dynamics. However, while the novel briefly touches on these complexities, it falls short of consistently exploring this potentially profound theme throughout the narrative, which is expected from your average horny harem school romcom.

The novel faces challenges in maintaining its course and direction. Chapter 4 introduces a forced romantic tension between Mitsuki and Yuuya, central characters meant to drive the plot. Unfortunately, the lack of genuine emotional development between them renders their ... relationship feeling contrived and inauthentic. For instance, the 'love quest' in chapter 5, where Mitsuki and Yuuya are tasked to act like a couple, fails to evoke genuine romantic chemistry, leading to awkward and cringe-worthy situations that do little to advance the narrative or deepen character connections.

Additionally, Hiyori, an important character, suffers from underdevelopment. Despite her initial role as a mischievous ghost, she quickly becomes one-dimensional, primarily serving as a source of comedic situations. In chapter 6's beach resort antics, Hiyori's constant mischief disrupts the narrative's potential for exploring her motivations or feelings more meaningfully.

Furthermore, the love triangle involving Mitsuki, Yuuya, and Hiyori lacks depth and complexity. The novel often resorts to predictable scenarios, such as Hiyori's frequent attempts to make Mitsuki and Yuuya horny for each other, without delving into the characters' conflicting emotions and desires. This lack of substantial exploration weakens the overall impact of the love triangle, diminishing its potential for genuine tension and intrigue.

One of the novel's gimmicks is the TST ability, which allows Hiyori to take over Mitsuki's body temporarily. While this concept presents an opportunity for a deeper exploration of identity, self-discovery, and consent, it is predominantly used for comedic effect. Chapter 7's folk dance scene is one such example, where Hiyori's attempts at intimacy are played for laughs, trivialising the potential seriousness of the situation and the implications of the TST ability.

It fails to capitalise on its plot elements and gimmicks. The lack of coherence and consistent character development detracts from the narrative's potential impact, leaving much to be desired, except for providing lousy, tasteless, horny soft-porn artworks.

Queen's Blade: Unlimited, as a soft reboot of the original Queen's Blade, introduces a new continuation while retaining the characters and the setting. This reboot takes a darker approach compared to its predecessors. Notably, the tournament now allows participants to kill their opponents, a departure from the previous iterations where such actions were discouraged. Additionally, the winner of any match has the power to demand anything from the defeated, intensifying the stakes and adding a layer of tension to the battles, on paper, that is.

Despite my personal distaste for the franchise, I must acknowledge that Queen's Blade manages to maintain a consistent level of quality ... throughout. Consistently bad, that is. It still manages to avoid plummeting into the realm of being a complete and utter disaster.

The decision to reboot the series with Queen's Blade: Unlimited stems from the unresolved cliffhanger ending of the previous anime adaptation, Queen's Blade: Rebellion. Unfortunately, even with the reboot, Unlimited only consists of two-episode OVA, leaving many storylines unresolved and leaving fans yearning for more—if the horny fans care about the actual plot, that is.

Queen's Blade: Unlimited introduces Elina, the daughter of Count Vance, who embarks on a journey to locate her sister, Reina, now a warrior participating in the Queen's Blade tournament. The addition of Michelle, an amnesiac shota with a connection to the Cathedral of the 'Magic Flute', ejaculates eccentricity into the narrative and hints at the enigmatic nature of Maramax, the legendary land sought after by the characters. But Michelle is actually just there to provide fanservice for those who have sick fetishes. However, I must admit the 'Magic Flute' fanservice was a creative touch—not in the sense 'portable penis' is an original concept—it isn't—, but in the sense the animation team managed to convey heavy implied sexualisation without the need for censorship or shifting camera angles. It was a clever approach, but it still falls into the realm of fetishistic soft porn, so screw it.

Unlimited may appeal to fans of the Queen's Blade franchise who are seeking a darker and more intense iteration. But in reality, that's only on paper. As I mentioned previously, while the winner of any match has the power to demand anything from the defeated, the only demand occurred in these two episodes was Elina being the horny bisexual sadist she is, enslaving other female competitors to lick her feet and engage in sexual activities with her. She's essentially building a harem of slaves for herself, including a shota token on the side if that can be counted.

Lastly, it is worth mentioning the random 'pussy tape' scene, because—ew—that's your typical Queen's Blade crude and cringy dialogue and attempt at humour.

Ultimately, Unlimited OVA offers the usual fare of what Queen's Blade offers—mindless action, fan service, and sadistic ass-kicking lesbians.

Saint Elmo is an anime set in a futuristic world where Earth's energy source, the space power plant Saint Elmo, faces a critical malfunction. As the protagonist's girlfriend lies in a coma, the power outage puts her life at risk. With international outrage mounting, the protagonist, Yuuki, embarks on a high-stakes journey into space to fix the power plant and save his girlfriend, leading to a race against time filled with danger and suspense. However, despite its promising premise, Saint Elmo falls short in delivering an engaging and memorable space adventure.

In the future, where, for environmental reasons, Earth's power source is located in space, orbiting ... the sun. This energy is generated by a large space power plant known as Saint Elmo, situated on the planet Mercury. Built solely by Japan, without involvement from other countries, because in anime as we know, Japan is the centre of the universe. Humorously, the anime actually acknowledges this fact during the first half, cleverly showcasing international outrage directed at Japan's perceived incompetence. Adding to the urgency, Mayu, Yuuki's girlfriend, falls critically ill and is hospitalised after a relevant incident during a previous space mission to Saint Elmo. Though she survives, she remains in a coma, and with the power now cut off, Earth relies on backup energy and batteries, putting Mayu's life in danger. With no other choice, Yuuki embarks on a journey into space to fix the power plant, amplifying the story's sense of urgency due to the international outrage and the impending loss of his girlfriend.

The first half effectively establishes the primary objective of identifying and resolving the issues with the space power plant Saint Elmo. It also introduces a mystery bait, as the mysterious incident at the power plant leads to animals suddenly gaining the ability to speak and exhibit high intelligence, puzzling the scientists involved.

The second half encompasses the actual journey into space. Yuuki travels with a crew comprising experts from various nations. I was excited by the introduction of a diverse range of characters, as I am a fan of works featuring an ensemble cast. However, I was disappointed to find that, apart from the plain Japanese boy scout protagonist, the other crew members are nothing more than one-dimensional walking racial stereotypes. The blonde European lady drinks tea, the black African woman worships the sun and talks about lions and her name is Simba, the Russian man is a vodka drunkard wearing an ushanka, the blonde American dude speaks Engrish, the Chinese guy talks about his noodles and ancient Chinese medicine, and the Egyptian boy, wearing a kufi cap, also, besides the sun, worships a scarab while pouring Arabian coffee from his dallah.

While the space journey itself, on paper, is filled with risks and stakes, as they have to venture near the sun and tackle an unknown technical issue, with failure potentially plunging Earth into the dark ages and endangering Mayu's life as well as the crew members', the journey itself was a bore to watch. The only thing I cared about was the mysterious cause of the malfunctioning space power plant Saint Elmo, which is why I referred to it as a 'mystery bait'. The revelation of the cause is interesting in concept but feels out of place and fails to add any thematic depth or meaningfulness to the story. It doesn't offer any valuable insights; it simply feels like an excuse to set the characters on a tedious space journey.

Amongst the unfolding chaos, Yuuki stumbles upon his father's helmet by sheer coincidence. This helmet holds a message from his father, who constructed the power plant and died afterwards. It is worth noting that the power plant was massive and was teetering on the brink of destruction. The message within not only contains crucial information on how to prevent the potential incident, but also, according to the same message, predicts the incident with a probability of a mere 'one-in-a-hundred-million chance'. And the son finds that unnecessarily obscurely hidden message. One must wonder: what are the odds?

I don't recommend this anime, not even to die-hard fans of the space subgenre. It is dull and lacklustre, and you won't be missing out on anything by skipping it. Instead, opt for other space anime options. I don't feel the need to mention specific titles, as the chances of encountering a space anime as boring as Saint Elmo are 'one-in-a-hundred-million'.