MADE IN ABYSS and The Horror of Want (Patreon)

Note: This is technically Ani-Me #31, but the first half of this essay is a general horror essay so I didn’t want to box it in!

So this month I’ve been going through “trashy” anime because I asked for it (and don’t worry, I’m still working on Kill La Kill), but in the process, I had a fun and timely surprise… I started watching a show that wasn’t trashy at all. In fact, I thought it was powerful, smart, and shockingly visceral in a way that hit right in time for October's spooky season. But what I love most about this show for our purposes is that Made In Abyss creates a bigger discussion of what “horror” really means.

On paper, the simple idea behind horror media is to confront your fears within the safety of a viewing experience. Yes, we all have our levels of differing Horror tolerance, but the whole idea is to make our hearts beat faster by experiencing the visceral component of fear without actual recompense. Perhaps that’s why we often first think about horror in terms of “outside dangers” that threaten your literal life. It’s stuff like Jason stalking you in the woods or any other threats of murder and violation that harm your physical self. But the best forms of horror tend to get at the nugget of a scarier core idea. For instance, you can tell someone that car travel is infinitely more dangerous than plane travel, but it’s not about the logic. For most people the fear is more rooted in the lack of control than the “probability of danger.” Good horror villains will get at some kind of core idea like that (or at least a motif). I mean, there was a sudden power to Michael Myers walking around in the suburbs during daylight. But even more so, Freddy Krueger can get you in the safety of your dreams. Which means the byproduct of insomnia / the dread of inevitably NEEDING to fall asleep is part of what’s so scary about him. Heck, even a slasher romp figure like Jason ties into psychology because of his choice of victim, which often skewed into the (pretty conservative) idea of punishing those teens who have sex / engage in vices. But I often argue this conservatism is somewhat incidental, because it’s more meant to prey on the fears of teenagers who are already nervous about the whole budding enterprise of sex / drugs / etc. Which gets into the core idea that “horror” is often connected to want.

It all starts with the audience. We go to horror films because we WANT to be scared, which is kind of a conundrum because the audience is going in and giving up their sense of control. Again, there’s varying levels of this instinct. Some people are scaredy cats who get really affected. Some are hardened horror watchers who appreciate the craft. But either way, the whole goal of the storyteller is to create tension using the same mechanics as any haunted house. It’s creating an atmosphere, engineering jump scares, using haunting imagery, and perhaps even stoking the fires of disgust with some gore. Personally, I love horror that plays with all the various ways you can break the tension, whether funny or genuinely terrifying because it keeps you on your toes (Raimi always called it the spook-a-blast approach). But I understand that at the center of these mechanics there is a two pronged approach of competing wants.

There is the audience thinking: 1) I hope everyone survives and nothing bad happens to them! and / or 2) I hope these jerks get their comeuppance! Because, yes, the reason most horror characters are shitty is because a part of you wants them to die. They are fodder for the gnarly death scenes you are secretly or not so secretly rooting to experience (even if it scares you). And the reason the “final girl” archetype is often the character who we find most likable is because they are to become the audience’s surrogate survivor. This creates a whole push-pull of rooting mechanics and good horror films know how to use them so spectacularly. Some use them to create various tensions (like Barbarian), some play with the rooting expectations for thematic purposes (Cabin In The Woods), and some play with the rooting interests just to kind of fuck with you (Deep Blue Sea, Feast, etc.). But then some media dive headlong into the cruelty of that conundrum of want and suffering head on. Not to get all philosophical, but the Buddha says it plainly. In “craving pleasure, material goods, and immortality, all of which are wants that can never be satisfied. As a result, desiring them can only bring suffering.” Some pieces of media understand this dynamic implicitly and turn into it with everything they have.

Which brings us to what I’ll call the “Game of Thrones Modus Operandi.” They’ll set up storylines that seem darker, but are still somewhat standard fantasy shows where we watch and root hoping that so and so will be triumphant. Only instead of catharsis, we’re often treated to horrible, soul-crushing results. You can’t even count all the times it’s happened on that particular show, but this dramatic approach is common on other shows, too. Like The Walking Dead and (from what I’ve seen) Attack On Titan. For whatever it’s worth, I understand that these shows are incredibly popular, but I honestly have a tough time with them for a few reasons. The biggest one is that - while there’s a lot I like - I just end up finding them dramatically boring because they often devolve into a game of inevitable gotcha tactics that have less and less to do with the story and more to do with attaining sudden surprise. And as the saying goes, “fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me 20 times. Why am I doing this? It must be because part of me likes getting fooled, or more likely, likes what’s happening in this whole dynamic.” Which brings us to the second reason, which is that there seems to often be this really specific kind of indulgence on the part of the horrific storytelling in these shows. A part that really gleefully fixates on the pain of the characters and expresses the gore with this kind of kewl ugliness that really, really seems to get off on it. Even the audience seemed to share in this downhill dynamic (to wit, think about the way people would often film other people’s reactions at the big harrowing moments, etc). I don’t think this is necessarily a problem in and of itself, but these moments feel like the sole purpose of everything going on. Which adds up into the third and final reason: I think these shows reflect a kind of media that’s simply designed to be cruel. Which is not just reflective of a cynical world view where such cruelty is the point, but the kind of apocalyptic cherishing that revels in the fantasy violence of it all. Even as I say all this, however, I know it’s a huge simplification, so let me zoom in on the specific issue at hand.

Because it’s not as if I need some simplified happy narrative that willfully ignores the truth that the world is pretty horrific, nor ignores the wisdom of Buddha saying that suffering comes with desire. Quite the contrary. I love narratives that confront the darkness of the world head on. I just think if their ultimate point is that simple repeated arc that “desire is suffering” without anything else, then - again - it just becomes dramatically and thematically boring. And I think there are far more interesting ways of dealing with such stories about cruelty. Specifically: WHY are these cruelties so particularly cruel? What larger fear sets do they tap into? How do we make sense of living in the midst of it? Or what better motivates the how and why we play into the world that makes it? So many classic horror stories touch on these elements, from the original The Wicker Man, to The Exorcist, to the good Hannibal-centric properties. And in looking at these interesting ways of confronting it, the entire discussion finally brings us to Made In Abyss, for it has an ingenuous-yet-plain-faced way of presenting some of the most existentially terrifying ideas imaginable.

At first glance, however, Made In Abyss does not seem like a horror show. Going through the first seven episodes or so you’re treated to a fun and lively telling that feels more like an early Miyazaki-esque adventure, with direct shades of Ico or even Breath of the Wild. For it gives us a fantasy world with a pretty rad conceit: there’s an island with a giant crater that goes down and into the earth, unfurling all sorts of odd relics and mysteries of the universe. Thus, adventurers have come from all over to settle in a city along its rim and spelunk down into the dangerous deep. Our story involves a young girl whose mother (an epic adventurer in her own right) was lost to the deep, along with a young robot boy who seemingly came out of the pit itself. They journey down into the abyss, experience close calls with monsters and traverse the wilds. But it’s all fairly tame. And so you start to wonder: is even saying this show is “messed up” or a horror show a spoiler? Don’t worry, It will get there. And stay there for the most part. But the thing I love about Made in Abyss’ brand of horror is that it’s not expressly about jump scares, nor gory gross-ness (though it will definitely have its moments), but something much more psychological.

I often think about this joke from Regular Show where one character says “let’s do something REALLY scary,” and the other responds, “we could go to bed early and be alone with our thoughts!” It’s hilarious because it readily highlights the gap between the typical dangers of horror fare versus the simple scary things that we actually deal with in our day to day. Especially because being up late with our thoughts implies all sorts of psychological hauntings within. It’s the tangible things that linger inside us, the people we’ve hurt, or the phantom things that shape our anxiety, thinking about how everyone’s mad at you, and always knowing that we can always imagine the worst possible result. Above all else, there is the idea we are trapped in these thought spaces. Thus, we do not want to feel these things. We want freedom, balance, normalcy, and the world to behave in an understandable fashion. Which brings me to a subsequent question:

In Full Metal Alchemist, why is the moment with Nina and the dog so damn haunting? Yes, yes, it’s mostly because “we love dogs,” AKA the loving innocent creatures that are here to make our lives better and Nina is a cute kid, too. But it goes deeper than that. It’s that the betrayal comes from a caring, loving father who is simply desperate enough to save his career. It invades so many forms of safety and trust. Moreover, it is the loss of both figures yet dramatizing them both as being inside the newly formed creature, along with that sad, confused voice of recognition - part of how we directly fear losing our mind and facilities or being trapped behind something that can’t quite express ourselves. And we’re also with Edward’s own horror as he must quickly snuff these two innocents out. It’s not a singular moment of danger. It’s that EVERYTHING about it is psychologically messed up in a way that plays to various fears. The result of these actions is undoubtedly cruel, but it doesn’t feel like an act of intended cruelty: it’s more the misguided, deluded, insane heartbreak of the whole thing, which more gives way to a profound sadness. How do we deal with a world where this sort of thing happens? And please know that I bring up this infamous moment for a very specific reason.

Because it reminds me of almost everything in Made In Abyss.

Gulp, if that’s not incentive or (non-incentive) to watch, I don’t know what is. But that brings us to…Note #2: The next chunk of this essay contains SPOILERS for the show, at least all the way up until the “* * *” marks, where you can continue reading. And for this next chunk, rather than describe the plot I’ll be going subject by horrific subject.

The First Confrontation - For the first six episodes or so we get this beautiful and exciting fantasy set-up and a few bits of adventuring, but then the first real shift toward horror comes when we meet White Whistle Ozen. She’s tall, gaunt, imposing, and super weird. Like, I feel like I’ve never heard a voice like that? (if any of you are familiar with Japanese language and specific cadences, I’d love more context). After some eerie and distant interactions, she finally confronts Riko and Reg in such an ugly way. She showcases her power, hurting Reg (who we thought was seemingly invincible) and more importantly confronts Riko with an idea: that her mother is dead and everything she is doing is a fool’s errand. All this feels so immediately bad. Everything the two of them WANTED is already being crushed. And then comes the cruel reversal: that all of this was some sort of horrific test. But where I’d normally be aghast at the dramatic fake out, Made In Abyss actually sits with it in a meaningful way. She’s done this because she genuinely cared for Riko’s mom and she wants to prepare these kids for not only defeat and pain, but the psychological horrors of the abyss itself. Everyone pushes back on this test and you feel the tension of the betrayal. There’s nothing “clean” about any of this. But what ultimately ends up being important is the meta way this moment has also prepared the audience for the horror turns to come. Above all else, it’s a warning.

The Anime Trope Issue - Okay, that’s technically not the first horrific thing that happens. When Riko talks about being in the sad orphanage she says one of her punishments is getting “strung up naked!” and hit and at one point we see just that for a brief flash. It’s treated kind of funny and look y’all, I have no idea what to do with this stuff and I know you’re all in the same boat and now I’m in this boat too and it sucks. Because this and so much other anime has so much casual sexualization of 12 year olds and it’s like… this is a problem here. Because this is precisely the kind of show I’d want to recommend to general horror fans outside of anime, but because of this kind of shit it’s just a big no. And I still definitely don’t think “that’s just how it is” and getting used to it is the answer. Anyway. Moving on.

No Going Back - One of the central conceits of the abyss itself is there is a “curse” where if you try to walk upward instead of downward, you are suddenly struck with a series of horrible various afflictions (depending on the layer you are in). This is effectively a “no going back” motif that solidifies the horror of the whole enterprise. Going into the abyss is a proverbial leap. A commitment. And any acts of earned doubt that result in trying to go back, to fix, to unmake, are akin to madness and death. Once again, you are stuck in your pursuit. You are in the downward spiral of Dante’s Inferno. And better yet, the mechanic creates this constant edge of fear around everything that happens in the show because there’s never a way around it. It’s so damn smart.

The Poisoned Hand - The show’s first real body horror moment comes with the orb spider. They think they are shielded but Riko’s hand gets struck with a poisoned barb and hoo boy. The poison works fast. Her hand balloons. There’s suddenly bleeding from her ears and eyes and its so much more violent than anything we’ve seen. We weren’t prepared for this, but neither were they, really. This is the power of making choices and not overwhelming the audience with constant horror. But real horror is that suddenly this has to turn into 127 Hours with Reg trying to remove her hand. Like that movie, it understands the horrible effect of time. There’s a heartbreaking slowness to it, the pain of screams, and Reg’s sheer terror and paralysis at mometns. I kept yelling “go faster!” but they play the drama of it so hard because you just want her to lose the fucking thing and survive. But then it starts going wrong even more quickly. And right when she’s on the brink of death they introduce Nanachi. Which at first seems like a bit of Deus Ex Machina (especially with her being so nonchalant), but it ends up being an incredibly elegant way of ultimately drawing a parallel to Nanachi’s own empathetic story. Which just brings us to the show’s biggest horror…

Mitty - Of all the things, this is what sticks with me and probably you, too. It says something that this is the climax of the first season, too. And likely something that made you think of Nina and the dog, but somehow even more “messed up.” But I think what’s remarkable about the Mitty plot line is that it takes things to a deeper level of thematic insight. When you first meet the disfigured, mutant blob that is Mitty, Nanachi makes it seem as if she was just some poor soul who wandered in. But we get these hints at something deeper. Right when Reg is at his most thankful, Nanachi asks for a favor in return. With the most even keeled, but wistful lilt she asks: “Kill Mitty for me.” And Reg’s whole face falls. Unlike Edward, there is no quick decision. Instead we’re treated to a whole storyline on both the history of Mitty and the ensuing ethics of this decision. Because Mitty is not a random wanderer. She was Nanachi's closest friend and maybe even more. Upon realizing their horrible fate, they are both sent down to the sixth layer and up to mutate or die (and its here the bad guys realize the power of doing this with people who have bonds). The tearful dread of everything cuts so deep. But it’s that moment as they’re coming up with Mitty is changing and in such terrible pain that she shouts “kill me!” that most hits us. Perhaps it’s the assuredness of the request that is most haunting, especially because Mitty’s now-regenerating flesh prevents her from being killed.

It’s here you realize the pain of what Nanachi has been quietly living with this whole time. The way it mixes with both the desperate existential need for Mitty to pass, but also this weird feeling of selfishness of having someone around who you loved so deeply but is barely themselves anymore. If any of you have gone through the pain of having a family member go through something like Alzheimer’s you know this deeply. Which is part of what makes all this so deeply upsetting. For there’s a very normal human emotional experience that is connected to the horror of all of this. It’s the fear of losing ourselves. The fear of locked-in syndrome. The fears of loving someone so completely and being faced with a moral impossibility like this. And the part that is most cutting is that single moment where she runs into Mitty to hug just for that second to lie and tell her that she won't kill her, even though she knows she’s about to, just to perhaps give her one last moment of peace instead of fear… It all just sticks in my mind. There are so many forms of horror that characterize some abstract grossness or whatever. But the way this centers Mitty around these single ideas of “losing” the ones we love before we’ve even lost them is so deeply powerful. One part of me can’t believe the show was brave enough to tackle it. The other part of me understands implicitly. Because this is a show that literally stares into the abyss. And all the horror will be rooted right in these existential feelings instead of the easier, more tangible dangers that other shows like to play with. And when it comes to Mitty that also means confront the person that created that horror in the first place…

Bondrewd - Made In Abyss has an interesting structure, but I’m glad all of this plotline got explored in a singular movie. Because going in, the thing we want is catharsis. We want to murder this guy Bondrewd for callously experimenting on Miitty and Nanachi. We even want him to suffer. But what makes him such a terrifying character is that his callousness and cruelty is not the point of his actions at all. No, Bondrewd is completely divorced from the pain he is causing. Instead, all he worships is the further pursuit of knowledge. And thus, all sacrifices are good in that pursuit. Every act of pain is nothing but joyful discovery. And the way it all gets expressed coming from behind that mask with the flat, yet vaguely comforting and jovial voice? Oof. It’s precisely what makes him so terrifying. Because it would honestly be “easier” for us to comprehend if he was just evil. To dismiss him as a sadist who got off on the cruelty. But no. He is just the embodiment of the intersection of want and suffering. He even talks adamantly about the “pain and pleasures” that await them in life as if they are singular yin and yangs that are not just part of the same ecosystem, but at a certain point, indistinguishable. And unlike a show that operates with cruelty, the stasis that is reached here is even more scary. Because they keep trying to get their catharsis in ending him, but he’s effectively un-killable. That’s because in the end, Bondrewd represents an un-killable idea. He’s the embodiment of the devaluation of life in the pursuit of “something greater.” And they will always have to live with the fact he is still there, doing what he will at the cusp of the abyss. But as horrible as that is, it is nothing compared to the horror of what he makes…

Prushka and the Cartridges - We see all the ways Bondrewd casually experiments on the children who are to be sacrificed and often turned into hollows, but it all seemingly culminates in Prushka. At first, it all seems different because she’s someone that Bondrewd seemingly actually cares about. It’s set up as if to juxtapose the morality and humanity he shows toward her and not the other kids who have been sacrificed. But what is so terrifying is that in the end there is no distinction. Not just because he’s weirdly genteel toward the children he tortures, but because he feels the same way toward his daughter figure. In the end, she’s just another person to use in his “selfless” brand of solipsism, purely an extension of his own interests. She’s just the “specialist” sacrifice. And it all builds into the most terrifying series of images, where he does surgery on them until they are flesh boxes that keep him safe as literal armor so he can ascend and descend the sixth layer at will. Sure, they “protect” him, but all the while they still have consciousness and still feel pain. Once again, the show is tapping into those most existential fears that go so beyond the pale. This is all “loss of humanity” in every sense. And so much of her freedom of the soul is about getting turned into a white whistle (and I’m really excited to see where the show takes that particular element with her in the extended metaphor).

Veuko’s Origin - Now into season two, I’ll say the moment I really don’t like is the sexual assault allusion with Veuko’s growing up on the boat. Yes, it knows enough not to be glaring or steer too much into it, but the show just felt better for having avoided those tropes thus far and in the end I’m not entirely sure what comes out of it (specifically the cruelty of using the same name being the village’s protector?) Like maybe there’s something I’m missing here and maybe someone can speak to the small plot element with some level of insight, but it feels like the rare moment of the show where something is… errant and thematically vague? Thus highlighting the further lack of need to be there in the first place.

Ma’s Squishes - I knew the second Riko got a little pet rabbit Meinya I should be terrified. After all, cute things in this show just become ammo for future sadness. And the moment the other little cute hollow creature (who will later be called Ma) squishes said rabbit I just… It’s that innocent happy look on Ma’s face. They don't know what they're doing or that they're causing harm, but when the “equalizing of value” comes suddenly everything becomes so much worse. It’s Ma’s haunting cries and things of value being torn away from within them. Which brings us to the terrifying idea at the heart of this peaceful village: there is a mechanic that “equalizes” all value in the name of justice, which is an interesting way of looking at recompense. To touch on the broader notion immediately, the entire village is basically a microcosm for society (we’ll come back to this), but this particular aspect is looking at the concept of justice. Writ large, it’s the “eye for an eye” tenet that gets at the idea of karmic justice. But there’s this metaphysical element that somehow completely accounts for how much something is actually valued by a person who is damaged. After all, Riko treasured little Meinya. But as Ma suddenly becomes ransacked for “equal value” we realize the thing that is not accounted for in this system is both motive and mercy. Ma didn’t know what they were doing was wrong. They just wanted to pet it. The squishing was an accident. But is taking from him by “equalizing” anything of solace? Or just causing more pain? This brand of horror feels so fascinating because in America even imagining a “blind” justice system feels like an impossibility. Because it is one with horrifically cruel biases and racism and also one where wealth seemingly insulates against all punishment. Thus we simultaneously crave justice against those clothed in immense power and seek mercy for those being tread on by the corrupt system. But the show is painting this portrait of what a truly “blind” system of justice could really look like, for all the good or ill. But what’s so fascinating about the equalizing system is NOT being characterized as something inherently wrong with justice, but showing how it’s something actually born out of how this society was formed in the first place.…

The Baby Soups - Jeezy Petes, just when you don’t think the Mitty thing can be topped, coming to understand the original sin of how the village was created is one of the saddest and most heartbreaking things I’ve come across (I know I keep using those words in this article, but they are the correct words to use). The colonizing party is doomed. And as the innocent, it is Irumyuui who is given the wish to try and save them. But in being that innocent, she does not wish to be healed or even to live… she wishes for the one thing she cannot do, which is have children. (Tangent: I know this leads to a thematic discussion about how media uses tropes like this, but it always ends up tying into two different groups: those who elect not to have kids and thus it highlights the awful, often patriarchal pressure put on women to have kids. And the other, which is that if you have ever been a part of a couple that had to deal with conceiving problems, narratives like this can have a radically different and more empathetic effect, but this is a whole nuanced discussion that doesn’t have a good answer). But all this leads to the cruelty of the wish. As Irumyuui transforms thanks to the contaminator water, all her babies still die within a day or two. As if she never knew to wish for them to have a long, happy life with it. Her cries still haunt me. But soon enough, the village’s nutritional problems are solved by… eating her kids.

Again… Jeezy Petes. And ultimately, even in their penance they choose to use her body as a barrier and use this guilt to lie prostrate on her protection. Thus, they enter the stasis of equality within the chasm of her body. NOW, this is a hell of an extended metaphor. There’s so much here about how we deify and “serve” the very figures we once hurt. But what it’s essentially after is crimes of what it takes to even make a society in the first place. It’s how much death and people get thrown at such founding of settlements, particularly those from afar (remember, these are literal colonizers going into the void, so it’s hitting that metaphor, too). Even the eating of the young is metaphorical in the sense of who gets chewed up first. Remember, once upon a time up til fairly recently, kids were basically free labor that contributed to a household. All grist for the mill. Taking it further, we live in societies propagated by wars where the young are sacrificed for the insurance of life and wealth of the old. So, for a society founded on both the original sins of what is committed here and yet the “equalizing” of injustice, it crystalizes an inevitably: one day, Faputa, the true final child of Irumyuui, will tear it all down. This effectively asks: is society worth the sacrifices it makes to create it? And more than that, is destroying it worth the horror on top of the injustice itself?

Faputa Unleashed - This is effectively the last horror of the story (so far). At the second season’s end, Faputa finally gets her justice for the way the village used her mother. It is bloody, horrible, and mostly marked by how crappy and un-cathartic it feels. Is it just? Sure. But nobody is “winning” here. Even those who come willingly as penance don’t get a merciful death, but are eaten alive all the same. When it comes to Eye for Eye, the catharsis rarely feels clean. It merely marks the end point, one where there’s no more worlds to burn. The point where it can supposedly let go, but rarely does the one consumed by revenge think about what comes after. If anything, Faputa is emotionally crushed by the way some others die not from her hand, but from all the other monsters of the 6th layers that have slid in alongside her once the barrier was cracked. There’s something pandora-esque about it. None of it feels the way she hoped. And in the end, she barely knows what to do with her release. So in the end, what was all that pain for?

Heck across all these examples of horror, what was all that pain for, too? What does it all add up to? And ultimately, what is this show really saying?

* * *

Whenever shows deal with the subject of cruelty and unfortunate, I think about this essay on Tom Godwin’s short story “The Cold Equations” and I’ll go straight to the wiki summary to best describe the story itself:

“The story takes place entirely aboard an Emergency Dispatch Ship headed for the frontier planet Woden with a load of desperately-needed medical supplies. The pilot discovers a stowaway: An eighteen-year-old girl. By law, all stowaways are to be jettisoned, because vessels carry only the fuel absolutely necessary to land safely at their destination. The girl merely wanted to visit her brother on the remote planet and was unaware of the law: When she saw the "UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL KEEP OUT!" sign while sneaking on board, she thought that at most she would have to pay a fine, if caught. The pilot explains that her weight sabotages the mission by exceeding the ship's fuel limit: The subsequent crash would kill both of them and then doom the colonists awaiting the medical supplies. After contacting her brother in the last moments of her life, the girl willingly walks into the airlock and is ejected into space.”

But the essay by Cory Doctorow points out the obvious: this is a hypothetical scenario created by an author. Godwin is engineering a hyper-specific scenario where this person has to be punished. And the most important question is not the debate of what else could be done, but why create that scenario in the first place? This is fundamental to me in any written exploration of cruelty. And the thing about Godwin’s story is how much it never seems to understand the subtext of motivation: it feels like it’s trying to aim for some sad story about the hardship of space or something, but instead it absolutely comes of like “silly girl, you didn’t even THINK about science and you doom edus all, and now because of SCIENCE I demand you murder yourself. And she’s like I’m sorry I will never doubt SCIENCE again.” Seriously, that’s the tone of the thing. It never thinks about what ugly urges may have formed this oh so hypothetical scenario in the first place. So I ask, are there ardent, inescapable cruelties of Made in Abyss’s absurd hypothetical scenarios? Absolutely. I mean, an un-killable mutation of a friend? A village founded on such specific carnage? These things feel almost impossible to dream up, let alone experience. So what makes their creation any different from the cold equation cruelties dreamt up for Game of Thrones, Walking Dead, or even Attack on Titan?

That crucial element of Made In Abyss is that no matter how much cruelty gets explored, the show itself is not expressly cruel. It characterizes a life where horrible things happen, yes, but it’s always after something else through those explorations. On a character level, it’s after the bonds that are formed. Within their souls, it’s always about furthering their own understanding of dreams and desire and coming to a sense of internal resignation. Even after all the horror that has unfolded, Riko is asked “are you glad that you came to this village?” as if they are assuming the answer must be no. But instead, she still is glad. In fact, it is the singular thing she understands, perhaps more than anyone else in the story. Because these things are the byproduct of adventure itself. For life and death are synonymous. She accepted these stakes the second she set foot on this quest for her mother. It’s why she was not deterred by Ozen, nor the poisoned hand, nor the loss of Prushka. She understands any of these things could have ended her at any point. And the way she pushes on is not a portrait of bravery, nor death defiance, nor even really optimism. No, the thing that strikes me about Riko’s exploration is the immense sense of gratefulness for even making it this far.

Life is an inevitable journey to the abyss, but that is not the point. The point is in finding so many of our own purposes and bonds along the way. Some do this darkly, like Bondrewd, cratering to the darkest realities of that inevitably. But that is but one side of what crumbles. Perhaps it’s the understanding of how much could go so wrong, especially in the accumulation of loss itself. To get closer to the abyss is simply to know more of it. And I hope it’s not gauche to invoke, but as society we’ve spent so much of the last decade drowning in the cruelty of a world that seems hell-bent on accumulating more of it. Or perhaps we are just better at seeing it. I don't know. I just know that in such a space, optimism feels impossible. And resentment feels like it's always just under the skin. But as more seems to be taken, and as horrors continue to encroach, thankfulness is merely taking stock not of what we want, but that that which we still have, despite everything. In that...

I can think of few portraits of horror more valuable.

<3HULK