2045: Pondering Localisations and Translations

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There was a bit of salt being spilled earlier today on the subject of translations and localisations. It’s clearly a topic that people feel very strongly about so I’m not going to give a “judgement” one way or the other on it, simply share my own thoughts.

The discussion surrounding this issue came about as a result of Gaijinworks’ recent release of Class of Heroes 2 on PSP. Gaijinworks is a company that specialises in localisations of Japanese games, and is made up of, among other people, former Working Designs staffers. Working Designs was a company from the PS1 era who also specialised in localising Japanese games.

The use of “localisation” rather than “translation” is important there, because the two terms refer to two distinctly different schools of thought on what to do when bringing non-English material into English-speaking territories. A translation is exactly what it sounds like: it’s taking the original text and, as literally as possible, reproducing it in another language. A localisation, meanwhile, takes the essence of the original text but takes varying degrees of artistic license with it in order to make it more accessible to people outside of its original audience.

The furore over Gaijinworks’ localisation of Class of Heroes 2 largely stems from the fact that, in the eyes of many people who prefer more literal translations, the team had taken unnecessary liberties with the original text, even going so far as to put in completely incongruous ability names for certain character classes — the most egregious being the Samurai class’ use of “Pimp Slap” and “Hammer Time”. The whole thing would have probably died down a bit quicker were it not for whoever runs Gaijinworks’ Twitter account turning on the snark and speaking to disappointed customers in a tone that… wasn’t entirely appropriate, shall we say. Consequently, the company has done a bit of damage to its reputation among fans of Japanese games; on the one hand, both Working Designs and Gaijinworks are known for their talent in localisation rather than translations, so people should have perhaps expected something like this to happen; on the other hand, however, responding to criticism with snark and the suggestion that people learn the original language (sure! It’s just that easy!) isn’t the best way to recover an unfortunate situation.

But I don’t want to dwell on that too much, because I’m sure there’s still plenty more arguing to do there — and anyway, to be perfectly honest, localisation that takes some liberties doesn’t really bother me all that much, so long as the essence of the original text and characters is left intact.

A good example is the Ace Attorney series by Capcom. In Japan, these are set in Japan, known as Gyakuten Saiban (Turnabout Trial) and star a character called Naruhodou Ryuuichi. In the West, they are set in the USA (albeit a version of the USA where there are traditional Japanese villages randomly scattered around the place) and their protagonist is called Phoenix Wright. There are all manner of other changes around the place — and the games aren’t any weaker for it. In fact, Westernising it made it a lot more accessible to a much wider audience — so much so that it’s widely renowned as one of the best mainstream adventure game/visual novel series in recent years.

The reason a lot of companies choose to localise rather than translate is to do with things that… well, simply don’t translate. In the cast of Ace Attorney, the protagonist’s name “Naruhodou” is based on the Japanese word “I see” — something that your average, non-Japanese-literate Westerner wouldn’t know. Making his surname “Wright”, though, opens up all sorts of potential for punning fun — potential that the games seize at every opportunity. Right, Wright? Or should I call you Phoenix Wrong?

Then there’s things like the fact that Japanese puns work in a completely different way to English ones; take Squid Girl, for example. In the Japanese original, Squid Girl ends all her sentences with the words “de geso” instead of the more common “desu” (roughly, “it is”), the former being a bastardisation of “desu” that incorporates the Japanese word for “squid legs”. Likewise, all the episode titles are expressed as questions, only using the word “ika” (squid) at the end of the sentence rather than the particle “ka” which denotes a question. Because both of these puns rely on Japanese grammar and particles, which are very different to English, it’s simply not possible to translate these things directly. So instead we get a localisation, where Squid Girl speaking in English instead takes the English approach to punning, shoehorning in references to squids and ink at every opportunity. Squidn’t that ink-redible?

Ahem. Anyway. The point is, in some circumstances, localisation works well and helps to expand the audience of something beyond what it would have if it remained more true to the original. This is particularly true when it comes to cultures that are very different from one another — such as, say, Japanese and American or English cultures. People like to be comforted by the familiar, and making something more comfortable is a sure way of getting people who might not have otherwise given a particular game a chance to actually try it out for themselves.

On the flip side, localisation loses some “authenticity”, and consequently isn’t entirely appropriate in all circumstances. Take the Persona series, for example; its third and fourth installments in particular are heavily based on Japanese culture, particularly surrounding teenage and high school life. While there are similarities between Japanese and Western high-schoolers, there are enough differences — particularly with regards to things like how people address one another — to make it worthwhile using a more literal translation. Not only does it make the experience more authentic for those who wish to use it as a means of immersing themselves in a culture they find fascinating, it also provides a very effective means of learning about that other culture from scratch.

Some games take this idea of education and really run with it. Visual novel Steins;Gate, for example, includes an in-game glossary that explains everything from otaku terminology to Japanese cultural norms as you work your way through it — the first instance of a non-English term or reference is highlighted, providing the player with the opportunity to look it up, and from that point on, it simply uses the term as it would be used in Japanese. In this way, you familiarise yourself with everything from elements of Japanese popular culture to ways in which people address one another — and again, it’s a fascinating way of learning something while you enjoy the story.

And then there are situations where either approach could work. A good example would be something like the Hyperdimension Neptunia series, whose English scripts over the years (initially by NIS America, now by Idea Factory International) have had a somewhat mixed reception from longstanding fans — particularly those familiar with the original scripts. There are some changes that just seem to have been put in for the sake of a quick pun that wasn’t present in the original — the English version’s use of “CPU” (Console Patron Unit) instead of the Japanese version’s “megami” (“goddess”), for example, as well as Neptune’s use of distinctly Western-style slang. Personally speaking, this sort of thing doesn’t bother me too much — it works as a pun, although arguably it’s making a bigger deal of the whole “look! all these girls are games consoles!” thing than the original Japanese script did — but there are some people who get pretty upset about this sort of thing.

I guess what we can conclude from all this is that, unfortunately, there is no one single optimal way to handle these things. Localise things too much and you risk alienating the purists who want something that is as true as possible to the original text. Conversely, translate something too literally and you either get something that reads very awkwardly in English, or something that isn’t entirely accessible to someone who isn’t already familiar with various aspects of Japanese culture. The ideal situation would appear to be somewhere in the middle, but very few people seem to get that balance absolutely right, and doubtless we’ll continue to see salt being spilled any time things tip a bit too far in one direction or another.

Me? I really don’t mind either way. I relish the opportunity to learn more about a culture I find fascinating through more literally translated works, but equally I very much enjoy a good localisation that remains reasonably true to the tone and intention of the original; in the latter case, it might perhaps help to think of it as a “remake” of sorts rather than a translation. Or it might not, in which case you can feel free to rant and rave about it as much as you like on social media. More often than not, though, I’m simply happy to have these games (and anime series, and manga series, and visual novels…) brought to the West in my native language so that I can enjoy them in some form, even if it’s not always quite the exact same as the original.

1166: The Invader Comes from the Bottom of the Sea!

It’s been a while since I talked anime here, so I’m going to talk anime. Oh yes indeedy. Specifically, I’d like to talk about a bizarre little show I’ve just started watching called Squid Girl, also known as Ika Musume.

squidgirl1Squid Girl is a rather peculiar show in a number of ways. Firstly, it’s not quite “episodic” in the same manner as other anime series, though there is a sense of progression throughout. Instead of being a sequence of 20-minute episodes, each “episode” of Squid Girl is instead made up of three short self-contained mini-stories that tend not to have a great deal to do with each other besides having the same core cast. However, the whole thing does have a clear chronology, since characters, concepts and settings introduced in earlier episodes tend to show up again later rather than being “one-shots”. I haven’t watched far enough to know exactly how it all ties together — if at all — yet, but already in the four full episodes I have watched we’ve seen the introduction of certain characters and their subsequent return — and I’m sure there’ll be more to come.

Secondly is the concept, which anime pros probably won’t bat an eyelid at, but which those used to more… “conventional” Western entertainment might find a little bizarre. As you might expect from a show called Squid Girl, the main character is a girl who shares a number of characteristics with squid. Specifically, her blue hair is actually a set of ten tentacles which she can manipulate independently at will, her hat causes the shape of her head to resemble that of a squid (and removing it will apparently kill her) and she is able to spew squid ink from her mouth. She also has the abilities of various different types of squid, including luminescence, the ability to change her weight at will and flapping the… flappy bits on her hat. The English subtitles and dub also see her making frequent squid- and tentacle-themed puns in her dialogue, while in Japanese she tends to end her sentences with “de geso” (translated literally, something to do with squid legs) similar to how super-cute moe characters often deliberately overuse or exaggerate the “desu” or “desu no” final particle (see Compa and Gust from Hyperdimension Neptunia for good examples), and she also tends to emphasise the syllables “ika” (“squid”) in her speech whenever they come up, regardless of whether or not doing so would really make sense. (Aside: I love finding out about the equivalent of puns and the like in other languages, as I do often find myself wondering how non-English languages deal with jokes, slang, dialect and puns like this. It’s fascinating to learn this stuff through things I enjoy.)

squidgirl2The basic premise of the show sees Squid Girl coming ashore ostensibly to subjugate all of humanity in revenge for the shitty way they’ve treated the ocean, but she instead finds herself forced into working as a waitress at a beachfront restaurant when an outburst and demonstration of her “power” ends up smashing through the wall. The various mini-stories that make up the episodes depict Squid Girl learning more about human society and what a “normal” life is, and much of the humour comes from her complete unawareness of how to behave like a human despite resembling one for the most part. There’s also a huge amount of comedy value inherent in her interactions with the owners of the beachfront restaurant she damaged, who seem completely unperturbed by the fact that she is obviously not human and each have their own distinct characters and means of dealing with the girl-shaped hurricane that is Squid Girl. Eiko is slightly weary and a little tsundere but tolerates Squid Girl for the most part. Her sister Chizuru, meanwhile, initially appears to be the stereotypical quiet, demure and kind “older sister” type, but reveals herself very early on to have a distinctly dark side that utterly terrifies poor old Squid Girl. In actual fact, this “dark side” is not truly threatening or unpleasant — it’s simply the ability to perform a “withering look” that is the Holy Grail for parents and teachers alike, but which is often depicted as a horrifying dark aura from Squid Girl’s perspective. Even as Squid Girl tries to convince herself that she’s still going to subjugate humanity, she quickly learns not to step out of line when Chizuru is around.

For the most part, Squid Girl is thoroughly silly fun, and I frankly wasn’t expecting much more than something fairly throwaway to watch while I had breakfast and then forget about shortly afterwards. However, one of the mini-stories I watched earlier well and truly changed my mind and convinced me that this is actually a show doing some surprisingly clever things. I shan’t spoil it completely for those who are planning on watching the show, but I’ll just say that the “mini-Squid Girl” vignette — which was depicted almost completely wordlessly — was surprisingly heartfelt and touching, and I was very surprised to realise that even after just a few episodes, I already cared very much about these characters.

squid girlI shouldn’t have been surprised, really; one of the things that continually strikes me about Japanese media the more of it I consume — be it video game, anime or manga — is the deft skill with which creators are often able to weave their magic to create compelling characters and make you care about them remarkably quickly. Squid Girl, as ridiculous as it sounds on paper, is certainly no exception to that, and I look forward to seeing the rest of this surprisingly captivating nonsense.