I haven't done every route yet
but this might be the funniest fucking VN ever made https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1156847812378628116/1218758562726281307/Untitled.png?ex=6608d45c&is=65f65f5c&hm=eefd55b36d8340c6e66f51f9c172437c2c24cf45b29fdd72418a83bd79614bb5&

All jokes aside, it's a cool and very important piece of history. Can really see how many VNs were inspired by it like its immediate successors including Kamaitachi No Yoru or Tegami, let alone later VNs. If nothing else, Otogirisou is an important history lesson to experience for any VN fan imo, and it's extremely easy to get the first good ending in ~2 hours without a guide.

Even in a silly group reading setting, I was scared several times by some of the pixel art and noises. The credits music in particular is rather beautiful.

I might type more when I read the other routes but anyways enjoy the fan translation title screen for now
https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1156847812378628116/1218734760340226190/image.png?ex=6608be31&is=65f64931&hm=678cd0abdcbf0adbe13ca61b6a38b6aade5180cf40ecaa1cdbdae8afb7f108a2&

God, I really, really wanted to like this game. It has, far and away, one of the best prologues in recent memory. Its initial concept—surrounding a set of mysterious stones that can kill a person when certain conditions are fulfilled, and the possibility of resurecting a loved one through killing—is extremely compelling, with the resulting confrontations coming off like a mix of stand battles and poker.

But this game has no idea what it wants to be. Is it an intricate death game filled with weird powers and weirder characters? a fourth-wall breaking uchikoshi-style meta horror? a police procedural period piece? hell, is it a tourism sponsored edutainment game tinged with nostalgia for Japan's Showa era? I don't know! And neither does the game!

Those curse stone confrontations that fuel the prologue? They completely disappear for the rest of the story, as most of the stones either start off in the hands of—or are slowly collected by—people who refuse to use them, and then that vast majority of the game takes place in the daytime when they actively can't be used. Really interesting, complex adult characters dealing with loss like Harue and Tsutsumi? Ignored so the game can focus on high school girl hijinks and a parade of ever thinner villainous caricatures. Every time the game builds up a head of steam, it takes a sharp left turn right into a brick wall, killing the pacing and starting all the way over again.

And it sucks because when the game works, it really works. Its early color-TV aesthetic is fantastic, giving everything a ghostly, phosphorescent VHS vibe. The few bits of character development we do get with Harue and Tsutsumi are extremely well done, painting complex portraits of parenthood and grief with exceedingly terse dialogue. And the handful of meta moments really are charming—although definitely overstated, this isn't Inscryption, there's maybe three in the whole game and they're pretty small.

The charms are there but they're not enough to make this weird little mess cohere. I hope more VN experiments like this are released, this one just wasn't for me.

Also of note, this is maybe the only VN I've ever played that has actual jump-scares, be warned.

Hello, to anyone who reads this. I’m not sure if you can hear these words, brought to you from my heart to this keyboard, and from these keys to this screen - but, if you can read me out there, uh, thank you for taking the time to listen in. I’m カケラSKY, and I’d like to share this moment in time with you to talk about this game I played recently that had a pretty tremendous impact on me. If you can read this, if you can feel me… why don’t you stay a while? Let’s talk about CROSS†CHANNEL, and my experience with it, together… or, I guess, I’ll talk to you, and I hope it reaches you out there. I hope something I have to say about this experience touches you, even if I won’t ever really know.

CROSS†CHANNEL, developed and published by the now defunct Flying Shine, is the fourth major eroge work written by legendary scenario author Romeo Tanaka, known previously for his classic debut title Kana ~Imouto~, as well as the much-beloved Kazoku Keikaku. As of right now, I’ve only played the first few hours of Kana, which I really enjoyed - and I plan to complete that work in due time - but I am otherwise new to his work. Despite this, CROSS†CHANNEL is a game that has haunted me and had my curiosity on edge for quite some time. Having studied Japanese for a solid amount of time now, Tanaka’s work was always a bridge I’d meant to cross when the time felt right, if only due to the fact that I’d heard how challenging and creative his prose gets - and how deeply flawed the majority of the translations of his work into English have been.

CROSS†CHANNEL is unfortunately the most troubled of all of his projects in this transition, having received three English localizations, each of which are at best largely unrepresentative of Tanaka’s pen and littered with inaccuracies, and at worst outright nonsensical and abhorrent. I cannot in good faith recommend any of these experiences as a suitable means to engage with CROSS†CHANNEL. Even if there isn’t much they could do to sway the graphics, music and events from telling the elements of the story the translated words cannot, there is little hint of Tanaka’s masterful language and wordplay in even the most capable moments of these localizations. I don’t mean to speak poorly of the efforts of the fans who have attempted to localize this title in the past, Ixrec the least of which considering how early into his translating career this project came. There are elements of CROSS†CHANNEL that simply do not work outside of the Japanese text without the removal of subtext, depth, nuance, or even outright explicit second or third meanings; some instances ranging as important as titles of entire chapters. I will not claim to be a master of the Japanese language at the time which I have experienced CROSS†CHANNEL - far from it, there were large chunks of the game I spent nose-deep in cultural context notes, dictionaries, and Wikipedia pages… but I feel that this drive to learn, to seek out the heart of this experience, crossing borders in order to grasp this work, that effort was so integral to both the themes of communication and the effort to understand one another that the plot leans on so heavily, as well as making the experience I had playing CROSS†CHANNEL for my first time a truly challenging, powerful, and memorable one.

Simply put, Tanaka’s prose is arguably the highlight of the entire CROSS†CHANNEL experience, and I say that as someone still confidently in the “student” phase of their life with the language. He has such a way with words, sentence structure, kanji and kana play, subtext, cultural worldliness, pacing, and emotional tug-and-pull that for me, falling in love with his work felt akin to a true coming-of-age moment where I feel like surmountable progress has been made in my studies, and a deeper and more appreciative love of the Japanese language has been achieved through reading his work. Arguably the next most powerful aspect of CROSS†CHANNEL’s presentation is Funczion SOUNDS’ fantastic soundtrack, marked by cool, distant, and often minimal and ambient compositions. Some of my favorites include title screen theme “Crisscross”, the ethereal and mysterious “Starry Heavens” and “Fated”, and of course, the haunting, heart-crushing “Signal”, a piece simply unlike anything I’ve heard in the medium - the vocals-only piece feeling like something out of late-series Evangelion more than your standard eroge fare. Matsuryu’s art is rather beautiful, particularly notable for the almost watercolor-like pastel palette and grounded but memorable character designs. The warm lighting and great framing of the CGs left several scenes particularly fresh in my mind, with the sweet scene of Nanaka holding Taichi to her chest being probably my favorite. All of these elements set a well-lit stage with which CROSS†CHANNEL allows its plot and cast to shine, and they shine brilliantly.

The story of CROSS†CHANNEL focuses on the perspective of one Taichi Kurosu, a student at the Gunjo Academy - framed as an academic institution, but in actuality a means for the government to isolate students seen as unfit for assimilation to larger Japanese society. Taichi and the other members of the school’s broadcasting club have just returned from a camping trip that he devised in a failed attempt to reconcile ill-will between the group in the hopes of reigniting their lost friendships, only to find their city completely and utterly barren. The eight students basically immediately break off into their own cliques and isolated activities, but Taichi remains determined to both bring these people together regardless of either their individual traumas or feelings on the matter, as well as help club president Misato Miyasumi complete the broadcasting tower atop the school’s roof and send a message by airwaves to the outside world in hopes of discovering what has happened to humanity. However, the plot of the game takes a quick turn and opens up its true intentions for the story to follow - this week of return to Gunjo Academy is looping, and the members of the student body lose their memories and development gained that week, resetting back to the fragmented place they left off at the start of the game. This initially includes even Taichi himself, and as a result CROSS†CHANNEL manages to pull off a route-based eroge system that is in fact also linear in progression… or, if you choose to look at it this way, canonically it resets in the way visual novels would metaphysically upon selecting “New Game” after each completed route.

The purpose of Gunjo as a host for the mentally “unfit” is a theme that permeates all of CROSS†CHANNEL. The eight students within its walls are deeply complicated, emotionally and neurologically distressed people, and from understanding this immediately arises one of the core themes of the narrative - although some members of the cast may be moved by Taichi, or come to some appreciation of him, the goal of reuniting this group of people is a task far out of his control, and frankly it’s none of his business to attempt to enforce that change to begin with. Several members of the cast have legitimate reasons to not engage with one another, particularly with Taichi himself - and ultimately it is their call, their choice to make, as to whether or not that bridge should be crossed. And yet, he persists, and this is when another element of CROSS†CHANNEL that I found so unique is also brought to light: Taichi Kurosu is arguably the most broken, most morally condemnable person in the academy, and it is through his eyes we parse this barren, empty world. Society at large has written off the Gunjo student body as monsters, and it’s a word they’re not afraid to lob at Taichi from time to time. And why shouldn’t they? Even if some find his PC-9800-era eroge protagonist humor and absurdities oddly charming, there’s still much to be said about his arrogance, possessiveness, dictatorial sense of command, and a deep streak of manic violence seemingly brought on by the sight of blood. CROSS†CHANNEL does much to show Taichi at his absolute worst, sinking to the depths of truly reprehensible actions… but it also shows him at some of his best.

For all of the awful things Taichi says and does, he’s still very much a human - no matter what anyone says about him, they cannot strip that from him. No one can. Although he is arguably the furthest removed from what is deemed “acceptable humanity” by the government, he still makes great and genuine effort to connect with the people he considers close to him. He tries to shield people he cares about from truths that he knows might hurt them in the name of protection. He suppresses much of his own trauma from the cast, and even the player themselves, for the sake of enforcing a lighthearted tone where the infinitely-looping week at Gunjo can be spent lackadaisically. And most importantly, despite his insistence to himself and through the narration of his point of view that he wishes dearly for a world where he can be entirely alone, removed from everything and everyone he feels strips an individual of their “real humanity”... he’s shown to genuinely love people, and spending time with them. Every individual member of the cast is shown to struggle with expressing their feelings, their desire to be understood, given sanctity, or saved from the weight of their own baggage - arguably, none more so than Taichi himself. There is a feeling through much of CROSS†CHANNEL that in spite of monologue upon monologue, page upon page of vindictive rambling from Taichi, he’s still suppressing how his heart really feels, and how badly he wishes to be something he already is - a living, breathing member of the human race.

“Connection” is the core of CROSS†CHANNEL, and it is explored in every possible avenue to tremendous effect. The obvious urban horror and denpa influences on CROSS†CHANNEL’s narrative invert the traditional stand-bys of passed rumors, broadcasted paranoia, and overwhelming waves of noise, thought and sound for the almost cosmic terror of radio silence. I’d liken the sinking dread of each week of CROSS†CHANNEL to an experience like Ever17, where the true horror comes from the loneliness and emptiness felt in the vacant corridors of LeMU, trapped and abandoned with no S.O.S. response in sight. Where in Ever17 the claustrophobia of the underwater theme park comes into play, the opposite may be said of CROSS†CHANNEL. There could not be enough space for Taichi et al to run around in, and in typical teenage fantasy fashion, all the hedonistic and self-serving tendencies come out to play. Piles and piles of stolen junk food, driving around in the principal’s sports car, and lots and lots of gross, messy sex on school grounds. In fact, with such a dangerous and carnally-driven presence as Taichi around, there’s a feeling of distrust or fear of being too close to our point of view that comes off of many characters. Sex is indeed another facet of CROSS†CHANNEL’s themes of connection, and I’ll comfortably call the 18+ scenes among the best I’ve read in the medium. Tanaka will often treat sexual intercourse in a mechanical, analytical way - one of the earlier consensual moments treating two peoples’ joined organs as a singular nervous system, a true joining of mind and soul into a single mechanism - perfect connection. Sex is weaponized as power, as a means to try and coerce mutual harmony and understanding, and as a hazy grasp at one’s own identity and a reclamation of things lost in the scramble to figure out what that looks like. Love is often present in these scenes but in a way that feels hopeless, and oftentimes like an intentional stroke of “obligation” between two characters to create a grounds for that theme of communication. Whether or not some members of this cast are people capable of that kind of love… that’s for you to analyze and decide. But the fact that they can express that desire, the fact that they have the potential to feel, to want, to crave, and to yearn - those are all undeniable proofs of their humanity.

To get back to the core themes of “connection” and “communication”, the structure of CROSS†CHANNEL essentially demands that they be addressed in order to maintain kinetic progression. You as the player do have the potential to waste weeks away stuck in the same section of the loop, and in order to progress further requires the actual completion of each route. All of these routes require Taichi digging into the pasts and psyches of the route’s lead heroine - forging a connection with them that if not permanent is in that moment tangible. Very subtle shifts occur with each step through the loops, with ever-so-slight bumps and shifts leading further and further down the road to the true ending - and with it, the dilapidation of the show Taichi put on at the very start. As the plot progresses, the world deteriorates, metaphorically speaking .The drama and open terror of the cast’s circumstances becomes ever more real and pressing, tensions rise higher and higher as more and more awful truths are revealed and pasts are dug into, and most of all - we as an audience as exposed to more and more context and background revolving around the group, most especially Taichi. Simple exposure to a handful of scenes from Taichi’s formative years immediately shifts entire dynamics, plot points, and angles with which to view the story askew, and therein lies one of the strongest components of CROSS†CHANNEL’s meta-narrative: Taichi is having done to him through our eyes what he is trying to do to the cast. We are scraping into his memories, his thoughts, his mind, in the hopes of understanding what he has been so reluctant to accept and understand about himself - we are discovering the human life of Taichi Kurosu, a young man who despite himself, despite his so-called ideals, wishes deeply to be understood. As the full picture begins to become clear, and as CROSS†CHANNEL begins its final act, this aspect of the story truly begins to take form into something both absolutely unique from storytelling and thematic perspective across this entire medium, and also deeply moving, personal, and profound.

For the sake of not robbing you of the experience of witnessing how the events of Gunjo Academy’s infinite week play out, I won’t dip into spoiler territory here - but please, note that I firmly believe CROSS†CHANNEL to have one of the most impactful, powerful endings to any story I’ve ever read. It is at this moment, listener, if you’re still with me, that I believe this crossing of our signals is beginning to fade… so I’ll try to leave you with something to think about before I end my broadcast.

In being an artist, in being someone who tries to express themselves, and in being someone who has had their fair share of bouts with mental health and traumatic experiences, I can attest to many of the feelings expressed in the text of CROSS†CHANNEL. I’ve had plenty of times where I’ve struggled with the feeling that the things I do to share, express, and explore myself in the world ultimately land in the infinite void of radio static. I’ve felt silly for trying to pursue recreational experiences that ultimately don’t add anything to a resume, or a degree, or an advancement of my socioeconomic position. I’ve felt like I’ve had no future before. I’ve even felt like I don’t deserve to be alongside other members of the human race, like I was unfit for love and care the same way I desperately tried to show the people I cared about that they were loved and cared for. I have always, always felt stupid when I get too wordy or passionately expressive about the things I care about, things that moved me or that I was affected by. But in stark contrast to that, I’ve been allotted amazing luck in finding amazing friends, family and loved ones who don’t compromise in showing me the humanity and the goodness that I should’ve been able to see in the mirror all along. There’s a CG that shows up a few times in the game where Taichi and Yoko are displayed in a mirror in the school bathroom, Taichi’s eyes completely void of emotion or feeling… and I can’t say that’s a feeling I haven’t felt before, but it’s also one I don’t feel anymore. Everyone has the right to try and get out there and express themselves. Everyone has the right to try and be understood. Everyone has the right to put art, music, writing, performances, and yes, erotic visual novel computer games out there with the intent of shouting into some cloudy, vast world, “is there anyone alive out there?” Everyone has the right to cross channels with someone else, no matter how brief that window, and know that we as people have the ability to touch each others’ hearts. We may not ever truly, fully understand another person, we may not even ever truly understand ourselves, but we have an obligation as a singular human race to explore, to think, to love, to know, and to touch upon those crosses in signals, those flickers of mutuality, and respond, “we are alive”. CROSS†CHANNEL’s most recent release comes with the subtitle “for all people”, and I cannot think of a better way to possibly summarize its intent.

This is a static moment in time, that will continue to remain well after I've typed it in the hopes of connecting with you. I won't know if you read this unless we connect somehow, and you have no obligation to reach out and make that happen. As long as you receive this broadcast, and you've read all that I've had to express and emote to you... I am truly grateful. This is where my line continues in another direction as yours, forming an "X" of trajectories where we met in a brief pocket of time.

So, I ask in the hopes that you hear this…
Is there anyone alive out there?
Do you feel the way I do?
Until we cross channels again.
I’ll see you next week.