Someone who doesn't understand Japanese watched my metaverse drama

Hello, I'm Reiji Kuga.

Someone who doesn't understand Japanese watched my metaverse drama.

Writing it like this feels a bit strange.

A German video creator watched the final episode of 'Crossroad,' the metaverse drama I'm making. And they did it while using translation tools, despite not knowing Japanese.

Of course, I'm happy just that they watched it.

However, what made me pause this time wasn't them saying, 'I didn't understand Japanese, so I only got the vibe.' It was that they carefully put into words the world-building, the camera work, and even the atmosphere of the world itself.

I don't think they were able to grasp every subtle nuance of the story or the warmth of the dialogue. When you translate Japanese phrasing, some things are inevitably lost, and even I sometimes feel that when I watch foreign works with subtitles, I'm probably not picking up on the original flavor entirely.

Even so, something still gets through.

Reading their feedback, I've been thinking about that for a long time.

Here is that feedback.

It wasn't just 'being praised,' it was 'they actually saw that'

Reading the feedback I received, what touched me most wasn't simply being praised.

Of course, I'm happy. I'm incredibly happy.

But more than that, I thought, 'They actually saw that.'

Someone who isn't deeply involved in metaverse culture became interested in the fact that stories can be created to this extent within a virtual space. Even while understanding that avatar expressions and movements have limitations different from real-life films, they still received the parts I was trying to show as a drama through the camera work, scene selection, and the creation of the world's atmosphere.

As a creator, this was a place where I felt quite saved.

I usually use cluster worlds, film while moving avatars, and then edit that into video. After doing it for years, it has gradually become normal to me.

But from the outside, I'm probably doing something quite strange, aren't I?

Real actors aren't standing in front of a camera. Even when I say I'm building a set, I'm not using a real studio, but a virtual world. Expressions and movements aren't completely free, either.

And yet, I'm trying to make a romance drama there.

When you think about it calmly, it's quite absurd.

However, the fact that they accepted that absurd part as "interesting" was a huge deal this time. It wasn't someone familiar with the metaverse, but an overseas video creator who felt that way. I felt a little bit of potential in that.

A metaverse drama is not an inferior version of a movie

To be honest, making a drama in the metaverse is not easy.

There are limits to the expressions and movements of avatars, and the shooting environment cannot be completely controlled. It can also be influenced by the specifications of the world. A single standing position, a single camera angle—the image can fall apart over the smallest things.

In a real movie, there are emotions that can be conveyed through an actor's gaze, hand movements, or the slightest flicker of expression. But in the metaverse, things often don't go that conveniently.

Therefore, you need to create emotion in a different place.

Which world do you choose? At what distance do you have the two characters stand? Where do you place the camera? How long do you draw out the silence? What kind of atmosphere do you give the background?

Writing it like this makes it sound a bit theoretical, but in the actual production process, it's not that neatly organized. I get lost while filming, and while editing, I sometimes think, "Ah, this isn't right."

But I think that including that hesitation is part of how you make a metaverse drama.

If you only try to make it closer to a real movie, it will probably always be painful. Because real movies have the strength of real movies.

But I don't think a metaverse drama is an inferior version of a movie.

You can have people stand in places they couldn't in reality. You can move emotions within a space that cannot be created in reality. There are scenes that are slightly unnatural, yet strangely remain in your heart.

I feel that there is a form of visual expression there that is unique to the metaverse.

It might not be a completed genre yet.

But that is exactly why it is interesting.

A world where a space shuttle is flying at an airport

Among the feedback I received this time, there was a part that made me laugh a little.

It was a point made about how a space shuttle that should have already been retired was taking off and landing normally in the background of the airport.

Indeed, that is impossible at a real airport.

If you think about it normally, it's strange.

But in the metaverse, that can sometimes be accepted as part of the scenery. Whether there's a space shuttle at the airport, a giant moon floating over the city at night, or things that deviate slightly from the rules of reality, there are moments when it's accepted as the atmosphere of that world.

Of course, I think there are people who, when looking at it as a work, will feel that it's strange. I won't deny that.

However, I was very happy that this time, someone found that aspect interesting as a kind of 'metaverse-like freedom'.

Things that are impossible in reality are allowed just a little bit in virtual space.

That looseness, or perhaps that margin, that interest found in a place slightly removed from the correctness of reality, might be a weapon for metaverse works.

You don't have to make everything realistic.

In fact, it's precisely in the places where you can't fully commit to realism that metaverse-like expression sometimes remains.

This might be something that we, the creators, surprisingly tend to forget.

The story remains outside the dialogue

This is what I thought about the most this time.

Can a metaverse drama reach someone who doesn't understand Japanese?

I don't think it reaches them completely. This isn't just sugarcoating; there is definitely a language barrier. In the case of a romance drama, the subtle nuances of the dialogue, the hesitations, and the timing are quite important.

When you use translation tools, there are inevitably parts that get cut out.

But stories aren't made up of dialogue alone, are they?

The brightness of the screen, the distance between characters, where they are standing, the direction of the camera, the stillness of the background, a silence left for a little too long. Those things can sometimes convey something beyond words.

This time, even though that person didn't understand Japanese, they received the atmosphere of the work and the vibe of the world.

Even if not everything is conveyed, something still gets through.

I think I want to value this ambiguous 'something'. I feel that creation isn't about explaining everything and delivering it all accurately.

Of course, the effort to make it understood is necessary.

However, it sometimes reaches the viewer in a slightly different form.

If you fear that too much, your work might end up becoming nothing but an explanation.

Translation on note changes where it reaches

Recently, thanks to translation features, there is a possibility that people in English-speaking countries can read my notes as well.

That said, I don't think it's as simple as saying that just because there is a translation function, it will suddenly reach overseas. The moment a text is translated, it takes on a slightly different face, and things that were natural in Japanese might not be conveyed well in English.

Even so, experiencing what happened this time has changed my way of thinking just a little bit.

Things written in Japanese only reach people who can read Japanese.

There was a part of me that had always thought that.

But there are people who watch the videos while using translation tools. There are people who try to overcome the language barrier. Thinking about that, perhaps the creative records and behind-the-scenes production notes we write in Japanese might have the potential to reach someone, somewhere.

Metaverse drama is not yet a form of expression that many people are familiar with.

That is precisely why I think that when it reaches creators overseas or people interested in film, rather than just talking about it within the country, we might get completely different reactions.

The feedback I received this time felt like a small gateway to that.

Learning while creating for 3 years and 7 months

"Crossroad" is a work that I have spent a considerable amount of time on.

3 years and 7 months.

Writing it like this might make it sound a bit exaggerated, but in reality, that is about how much time I have spent on it.

I haven't studied film or screenwriting professionally. I didn't know how to shoot from the beginning, and I learned editing, composition, and presentation as I went along.

I feel like there were more things that didn't go well than things that did.

I almost stopped many times, and there are times I think I could have finished it faster. Looking back at it now, there are parts I want to fix. Perhaps the creator is the one who notices the most flaws.

But even so, someone from a different country and language watched the work I managed to complete.

What's more, they didn't just play it; they took the time to write their thoughts on it.

This really means a lot.

I felt glad that I had made it.

Truly.

I want to take it a little further

I have always believed that dramas can be made in the metaverse.

However, that doesn't mean 'the same things as real-life movies can be made.' In fact, I feel that aiming too much for the same thing makes it difficult.

The metaverse has its own unique limitations.

But at the same time, you can place people in locations that wouldn't exist in reality, and you can stir emotions in scenery you wouldn't encounter in the real world. Even if a space shuttle is flying at an airport, it can sometimes feel strangely appropriate in that world.

Creating stories in places like that.

I think it's still an incomplete form of expression.

But precisely because it is incomplete, there is room to enter it. It feels like we are finding our own paths as we go, rather than walking down a path that someone else has paved for us.

The feedback I received this time from a video creator in Germany was not just a happy comment for me.

Even if the Japanese isn't fully understood, and even for those who don't know metaverse culture, something can still reach them.

It was an event that made me realize that.

If it can reach across countries and languages, then perhaps there is still meaning in creating it.

That is why I want to take it a little further.

Beyond the Japanese language, this story.
Though, it's still a work in progress.

If you are reading this from outside Japan, I’d love to hear where you’re from.

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