[PT#03]The Hero’s Deeds Resonate with a Child’s Conscience (Patreon)

In recent years, we’ve seen fewer player characters cast as the “lone hero.” Part of this is due to shifting trends in games, but more than anything, it’s the result of the internet and communication systems becoming so widespread that information-sharing between players is now part of everyday life. The idea of sharing a game has simply become the norm.

This has inevitably changed the role of the player character. In the past, the mindset was: “The player becomes the hero and fights.” But in games shared by multiple players, the expression has shifted to: “The player character is the player.”

Because of that, characters under a player’s control can now be customized―visual equipment, decorative elements, attack styles―so that they’re distinct from those of other players. This ties into the kind of “variety” that’s essential to play. In earlier eras, the hardware simply didn’t have the capacity or performance to express a style of play based on comparison. But with improved specs, the once-unrealizable “compare and contrast” style of play has finally become possible.

And by “comparison,” I don’t mean competing to see who can clear the same route the farthest. I mean comparing which routes―among many―each player chose to clear. Supporting this kind of variety requires a wealth of scenes and objects prepared in advance, something that was difficult to express on the limited hardware of gaming’s early days.

That said, this style of sharing a world is still just one type of game genre. Games enjoyed alone are another type entirely. And so, inevitably, a new kind of hero will appear again.

When you hear “hero,” the image is usually “champion of justice”―a strong figure who rescues those in need. But these days, that’s not quite the picture. More often, heroes are portrayed as someone who understands you, who empathizes with you, and stands strong at your side. That’s the impression I get from many of the heroes we see on TV now.

There’s no fixed definition of what a hero must be; the idea shifts with the times. But personally, I believe a hero should, at the very least, be a guide.

For a child, a hero is a figure of great power, someone whose words are worth listening to. No matter how much a parent or teacher tries to guide them, nothing matches the weight of a hero’s words. What lingers in a child’s heart after witnessing a display of overwhelming strength is the image of someone who acted on justice, and the awe of a special power no ordinary person has.

Justice is a tricky thing. It’s embarrassing, lonely, and deeply personal. That’s why, once adults start teaching it, it can start to feel burdensome. And even when you understand it, it still takes courage to act alone in front of others. For a child, seeing a hero perform such an act with style―right before their eyes―makes that hero a trusted figure who shows them how to handle that sincere part of their heart.

When we, as adults, set out to create a hero, we must be careful not to get the standard for “cool” wrong. If we base it on assumptions like, “Kids will probably like this,” or “They’ll go for this kind of design,” children will notice the attempt to lead them and feel suspicious of it.

Instead of chasing after children, we need to create heroes whose backs children want to chase. That requires sincerity from the creator. By projecting that sincerity into the character, we can free them from being an empty, vague hero.

The hero a child encounters in youth is, to them, the embodiment of justice. No matter the appearance, if the same spirit lives in both the hero and the child’s heart, their hearts will resonate without fail.

Later, after stepping into society and gaining all kinds of experiences, they’ll encounter other hearts of justice―other heroes. And the image that will come to mind in that moment will be the hero they knew as a child. Whether from an anime or a game, they’ll recall the figure who resonated with their heart.

If you are creating a hero for children, you must accept that this character will remain in their hearts for life. Because showing a hero’s uncompromising justice means leaving a mark―perhaps even a wound―on a heart that is pure, soft, and innocent.

In the process of growing from child to person to adult, every part of that developing heart accepts those marks. Over time, they become part of their individuality. And those wounds―good or bad―remain unchanged into adulthood, projecting themselves into the person’s heart. Which means, if the hero they saw was nothing more than a superficial “cool,” then perhaps they, too, will turn out that way.

For children, play is serious work. It’s how they learn about themselves and how society works. That’s why, when making products for children, we must never dismiss it as mere childish play. Treating it with sincerity and seriousness is one of the most important responsibilities we have as adults.

(Automatic translation by AI)