Good day my lovely deviants, and welcome yet again to Joyful Stick. Miss our last entry? You can read it here. Today, we’re going to be taking a slightly different approach to this review. This is going to be a longer read than usual, so buckle up and let’s begin.
Hip to Be Square
I think I was 17 or 18 when I had my first inkling of “normal people don’t behave like this”.
Our family had never been one that took kindly to mental health. Depression was often met with “oh it’s just a phase, a funk”. Mood swings were just a thing that happened to everyone at least a few times a day. Concepts of generational trauma extended as far as “that’s how it always was”. Communicating or probing deeper into these concepts was met with swift scorn or humiliation-save for when it became an inconvenience for others.
It’s not that my family wasn’t kind, caring and loving. They absolutely were. It’s more my folks were the by-products of broken homes, of worlds that were never prepared to deal with children. Much less, the issues that reside just within the head of us all.
This attitude wasn’t unique to my family at all. It’s a culture wide issue in a world that determines your personal worth by your output. It’s depraved, unhumanistic-and if you want a job, you often have to lie. To hide what’s wrong until it’s too fucking late.
So that’s what I did. I hid what was wrong with a crooked smile and dumb jokes I stole off the internet. I drank myself through my 20s and took acid, LSD and shrooms until disassociating from my own body felt normal.
Until recently, that’s how I dealt with it. By trying to shove myself into “normal” and “happy” and “productive”. I just wanted to fit in. I just wanted to love and be loved.
American conformity and its associated values have led to the death of countless non-neurotypical people, disabled people of every kind. It is a hideous meat grinder that we toss each other into because “it’s just a phase”. When those lives are lost, the culture just shrugs it’s shoulders. It lets out a frown, and says “well how unfortunate, there was nothing else we could do, we did try,”
Then it keeps feeding that meat grinder.
The responsibility of disabled and non-neurotypical people to fight for their rights and lives often falls on us. We have to sing and dance for the abled until they find it in their hearts to maybe, just maybe fight for free healthcare. When that falls through, they promise they’re always available if we need anything. They’ll totally retweet our GoFundMe for the literally life saving treatment that we need.
All the while, the meat grinder churns. A gluttonous indictment of cultural apathy, it’s maw wet with the blood of people that didn’t have to die. That didn’t have to be miserable. People that deserved base human empathy. The meat grinder is clever, too. For when it speaks, it’s through using us as props in the media. Dr. House. Stevie from Malcolm in the Middle. The never ending march of horror using mental instability as a trope, a cheap punchline.
For me, it made the idea of getting help seem unnecessary. After all, I wasn’t crazy. I didn’t act like all those people on the screen. I was normal, just stressed. So long as I didn’t run out of forties and weed, I’d be fine. I just had to keep on being numb enough to not think about it. Just push it down with stimulants every single time a thought comes bubbling up from the base of my skull.
Two suicide attempts later, I realized maybe that wasn’t the best way to handle it. That didn’t keep me from trying to work myself to death though. It was the “honorable” way to die, exhaustion. Because if you passed that way, then at least it was “normal”. It was “okay”.
Then my dad died doing just that. Broken and depressed and suicidal. It didn’t seem so honorable anymore.
I was saved by a friend. They know who they are. They encouraged me to seek therapy, so I did.
That’s when I found out all those mood swings, all those moments of doubt and fear and pain-it was because I was bipolar. The anxiety, the stress, the yells that erupted out of my person. This totally different guy that dwelt in me who “took the wheel and drove”, there was an actual reason he existed.
I got help after years of media telling me there was nothing wrong with me. That I didn’t “look like I had problems”, that because what was wrong with me-this terrible, debilitating parasite that would sap all hope from my body-couldn’t be seen, I was healthy.
Having BPD has made me critically analyze the media I consume a lot more, especially when disabled or non-neurotypical people are displayed. Are they using us as props? Are we being used for cheap sympathy? The meat grinder has to have its bait, after all. Able bodied people and neurotypicals love media where their self-projection gets to feel special for helping the person with crutches, or the “suffering and sexy depressed writer”.
So much of the media out there is painfully unfunny, cruel and downright dehumanizing to us. We’ve got to be sexy, we’ve got to be marketable, and we damn well better fit the popular consensus of what our disability looks like. Otherwise, we’re written off and out. Our character is made to look like an asshole for wanting upward mobility. Or worse yet, our disability or mental issues are revealed to be a cruel hoax.
With my full chest, allow me to give a giant “fuck you” to everyone that portrays BPD as “any moment they’re going to have a psychotic break” or “they’re so ditzy and happy because they’re bipolar, haha!”.
As such, when Katawa Shoujo was brought to my attention, I paused.
For good reason.
Katawa Shoujo is a title that has been out for a while. Premiering in 2007, it debuted during what could roughly be called the “western migration” of japanese media culture. Tokyo Pop and Shonen Jump were still fresh and growing their catalogues in America. Visual novels weren’t unheard of-we’d had a decade of LucasArts adventure titles to prime the pump. Yet, they were still largely fan and community projects. Translations were patched in so the entire title could be pirated and enjoyed.
They were just niche enough that everyone didn’t mind working for internet clout points. Similarly, this is why the west has played Mother 3 at all. Katawa Shoujo was unique in this realm because of its origin-it was a VN created in the west that borrowed liberally from it’s japanese counterparts. That wasn’t the only reason, though.
VNs typically lean heavily into cultural tropes or a common theme. In 2007 when KS premiered, this was still the case. Some games had monster girls, some took place in space, some used robots or giant mecha. Distinguishing yourself from that while still remaining approachable took finesse, which is precisely what led the production of Katawa Shoujo and led to its subsequent success.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
I remember originally playing the game like one does in dreams. Not so much finite detail as larger brush strokes. Hearing the name in 2021 triggered a response in me I couldn’t quite pinpoint. Why did I remember that title? Why did it stick out? Why did the characters seem so incredibly familiar?
Wait a minute-oh. Oh god, I remember.
Replaying KS over a decade later wasn’t a glimpse through a nostalgic lens, but rather one of fond memories and thanks. KS, even with it’s scant issues, had the ability to make me feel reasonably normal when other titles didn’t. Long before I knew what “normal” was for me with BPD.
So, let’s finally talk about the game.
Of the Heart and Head
Katawa Shoujo stars Hisao, a man afflicted by one of the worst maladies that can befall anyone: A crush.
The game opens with Hisao finally getting ready to confess his feelings, only for the scene to proceed into a dizzying pace of doctors visits and an extended hospital stay. Hisao, as it turns out, has a severe form of arrhythmia. Too much stress can trigger a heart attack, or even full cardiac arrest. This means playing soccer with his friends, getting worried about upcoming tests, everything that composes his existence as he attends school?
It’s all a literal threat to his life.
The time Hisao spends in the hospital is painful, and wrote with a realism that faces anyone who is first handed their diagnosis. Hisao thinks his life is over, maligns the fact he has to stay in a hospital bed, and slowly begins to lose track of time as the days bleed into a slurry. He doesn’t get over it-he simply comes to terms with it the best he can, with the lingering question of what his life has become omnipresent in the narrative going forward.
These scenes in particular touched a very tender spot. When I first started taking my mental health seriously, I was deathly afraid of taking medication. To a degree, I still am. Despite knowing tons of people on antidepressants/anxiety medication and more, the totally irrational fear of pills changing who I am and what I’m capable of always rests in my chest when I see my therapist. I have found a path to health without it-but Hisao’s worries mimicked my own, and pulled me in right away.
Time passes, and Hisao is finally ready to leave the hospital. However, returning to his old life is now an impossibility. He’s going to require monitoring, medication, things incompatible with what mainstream life would call “normal”. Let me be completely clear-this is a literal thing every person with a diagnosis faces. The deep rooted desire to not only “go back”, but the horror and revulsion of realizing you never ever can, is the first stumbling block post diagnosis. It’s…
It’s hell.
Even if you understand it, even if it makes sense, even if you know the path ahead is better, it’s hell. You often can’t return to the way things were before you were diagnosed, and if you can, it’s still never quite the same fit. Hisao reflects this with anger, disappointment and a growing amount of depression. Yet, the only way to proceed forward is through.
That, for our titular character, means going to a school that focuses on treating people with certain medical needs. He’s absolutely reluctant to start, but he has little choice. This too is something experienced by many people post-diagnosis: the horrifying realization of just how shitty our medical infrastructure is. Much of the time there’s less options than we’d like, and that is further reduced by insurance availability, the country you live in and many other factors.
I’m 31 and self-employed. I can’t afford decent insurance, and have to pay for everything out of pocket. I haven’t been to a general practitioner, a dentist or an optometrist in over a decade. Finding a place to assist in diagnosing my mental health took me doing the footwork. Even if I had insurance, I’d have to have found a place that would accept my insurance. If you’re one of my foreign readers, this is the reality of healthcare in America. It’s fucking horrible.
Hisao starts his first day after meeting with a teacher, who guides them to their class. There’s a moment going in where Hisao debates introducing himself, or coiling further in so as not to be seen. Choices like this are spread fairly often throughout the game, and position the player in the design-unique seat of deciding Hisao’s path to self betterment. I personally found in my playtime that this was a dynamic, engaging and narratively satisfying experience. There’s often opportunities for Hisao to choose to socialize (and with whom), how his social circle fills out, or if he wants one at all. Yet, the more we as players curl in, the less Hisao heals. Not just on a physical level, but a mental and spiritual one as well.
Often when people are diagnosed with terminal illness, mental issues or disabilities, depression becomes a major constant. It’s one of the reasons that finding a community of people is so important. Lack of socialization makes us feel as though we’re alone in our suffering, which only exacerbates the depression. The internet has allowed millions of us to connect with others and share our stories and is a pivotal lifeline for many people. I am so glad these communities exist. Talking with other people suffering from mental illness made me realize I wasn’t broken.
Remember: you’re never truly alone out there folks.
The choice to socialize, or not, is quickly put to the test as Hisao meets Shizune ( a classmate who is deaf and mute) and her “Translator” and friend Misha (who many players believe is on the autism spectrum). The two very quickly strike up a conversation with Hisao, offering to guide him around the school. Now, you can turn them down. Sure. But choosing to interact with them leads to Hisao making his first fast friends at school.
From there, the rest of the narrative unfolds as Hisao develops feelings, engages in school activities and meets his other classmates. With multiple endings and paths, there’s hours of gameplay to be had on Katawa Shoujo. Hours that frankly speaking, are very satisfying on an emotional level.
Why?
The cast isn’t used as cheap props. Their disabilities and mental health issues aren’t used as road signs or checkmarks for “hey, we have XYZ kind of person here! Aren’t we great?” like you’d find in other media. Rather, they’re framed based on their personalities, interests and hobbies first-much as we should interact with anyone. Emi, the track star that races on prosthetic legs, gets our attention not because of her prosthetics but rather the fact she loves running and wants to share that with us. Rin, an armless painter, shares the peace her work gives her soul with us as she holds a brush with her feet.
Notably Hanako, a burn victim suffering from PTSD, is extremely shy towards Hisao to begin with. She literally runs from him, and takes frequent breaks throughout the day from the rest of the class. These breaks are such a frequent occurrence that none of the rest of the class bats an eye. Yet, if Hisao approaches her and attempts to communicate she slowly opens up as she begins to trust him on her terms. It’s a path played with so much respect towards those who have severe PTSD that it absolutely caught me by surprise.
The fear in which Hisao feels for going to the school, this new life he didn’t ask for peels away into the warmth and love of people that accept him. He can’t go back to his old life, but by the end of the game…he doesn’t really want to.
Hisao finds a new home and friends, but more importantly finds peace with himself. He finds happiness. You’d expect a title created with this much passion and care to come with a price tag.
You’d be wrong.
Katawa Shoujo is completely free, and I encourage you to download it.
Of Representation, Media and Us
I can’t believe this game was released in 2007.
I really can’t, because the early 2000s were such a cultural fucking wasteland. Movies and shows still made fun of people in wheelchairs, on the spectrum and in need of medical attention. Shit that, while not as prevalent today, still gets used for cheap gags. Or, worse yet, gets used as some kind of inclusion bingo to ensure a product is “diverse”.
If I see one more person with schizophrenia, BPD, depression or addiction issues portrayed in a movie/show as “tragically sexy” whose only hope is the lead character, I’m going into the woods and never returning.
Everything that feels wrong, that feels so off in other places isn’t present in KS. The game treats the player and it’s cast with the utmost respect, letting them live full lives inside it’s narrative. It’s something I really, really wish more titles did. It’s something I still can’t believe was as kind as it was.
It’s something going forward I’d like to see a lot more of.
Representation in media isn’t hard to do. But when we as consumers accept the absolute bare minimum that companies like Disney resort to? It makes me furious. It makes me yell and scream at how shitty a practice it is, because it is a shitty practice.
Then I take my money to creatives that do actual queer stories. I take my attention to people writing disabled and non-neurotypical characters as protagonists and being happy.
All of you should too. Because that’s how shit changes in media. Not with outrage or screaming, but by elevating voices actually doing the work.
Love you all.
Do good and be good.
-j