Aoki Haruhi nodded in agreement, "Games and movies actually have a lot in common. In our industry, game producers are actually similar to animation directors or chief animation directors; we are all trying to present our works to everyone in our own way."
"Up until now, you haven't been invited to any major exhibitions to give speeches, and ended up surrounded by a crowd of reporters, have you, Aoki-san?"
After asking, Hayao Miyazaki seemed to feel his question was a bit inappropriate and quickly added, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to mock or criticize you, it's just that I've become weary of this kind of hounding. If this is considered an honor, then President Aoki, you would have definitely qualified for it long ago. But what I want to say is, perhaps receiving too much attention isn't a good thing. It makes it impossible to be yourself and express what you really want to."
"That's exactly right, I understand your frustration," Aoki said. "Though as a game company president, I haven't had exactly those experiences. But I have been asked questions by reporters about game development, like why I chose to do things a certain way, or what the game is trying to express.
"Why I chose a certain ending, or how Pokeni came up with the idea for this game.
"To be honest, I've answered many of these questions countless times, yet I still have to respond to them patiently every single time."
"Haha, I understand how you feel," Miyazaki laughed. "For those of us who make animation, the things we want to express are already in the work; there isn't a single second that's superfluous.
"But in every interview, people always ask about the 'theme of the work,' and just that alone is enough to get under my skin."
Seeing him like this, Aoki couldn't help but find it amusing.
Even at over 50 years old, Miyazaki acted like a child when talking about such experiences.
"Yes. Whether it's movies, animation, or games, they are all actually tools for expressing ideas. Of course, from a commercial perspective, games might be closer to the primary goal of 'providing players with a novel experience,'" Aoki Haruhi said.
"Right!"
Hearing Aoki's words, Hayao Miyazaki immediately became excited. "Experience! A novel experience—that's a very apt assessment.
I had never thought about this form before."
"In games, we actually use a lot of cinematic narrative techniques," Aoki responded with a smile. "Although players have a certain degree of freedom in their operations to some extent, these spaces are all designed by us, and what events are triggered when they reach certain places are all precisely calculated.
The language of shot composition in movies is equally applicable in games.
We also ponder which camera angles best express and render the scenes we want.
For example, in Diablo, when players walk into a dungeon and encounter a monster this tall..."
Aoki raised his hand, gesturing to indicate the height of The Butcher.
He did this primarily to accommodate the fact that Miyazaki hadn't played the game.
Miyazaki Hayao also looked up and glanced over, secretly surprised.
"In games, we would release the sound first, for example, a roar—a terrifying monster's roar suddenly appearing from afar—before letting the monster enter the player's field of view.
Actually, this is a language of camera rendering."
As Aogi Haruhi said this, he couldn't help but frown.
It was mainly due to the limitations of the era; many things couldn't be displayed.
Otherwise, if he could wait another ten years or so, the storyboarding in games would be incredible.
Take "God of War," for example. The producer himself came from a background as a film director, so he drew all the storyboards for the game himself. That's why playing the game feels immersive, like watching a blockbuster movie.
Even with a spiral staircase, he could make it look spectacular from a top-down perspective.
After the arrival of the 3D action game era, games wouldn't just be about "giving you a cinematic experience," but about a more realistic simulation that transcends film.
"Huh? Is it really that interesting?"
Miyazaki's eyes shone, and he already had a mental image.
It was just that what he imagined was storyboarding in animation, which still had some differences from the actual content of Diablo.
"The biggest difference between video games and animated films is probably active versus passive," Aoki Haruhi said. "In games, players actively experience the content. The characters' fates, their lives and deaths, are all in their own hands, which creates a much greater sense of immersion.
"As for animation, it's more relaxed and carefree. You can sit in a movie theater and enjoy it quietly, much like reading a novel, following the protagonist on a unique journey.
"In reality, I think animation is more difficult because the director can't waste a single second; they need to keep a tight grip on the audience's hearts.
"The requirements for this aspect in games are relatively weaker."
"I see," Hayao Miyazaki nodded earnestly, deep in thought.
"However, games might be more complex to produce than animated films," Aoki mused. "In animation, as long as the story is coherent, every second consists of a set number of frames, and the information presented in those images is everything.
"It's like passengers getting on a roller coaster; the vehicle has a set track and direction.
"But in games, players have a much higher degree of freedom, so we have to consider much more when making them.
"For example, in an animated film, if the protagonist dives into a bush to catch a rabbit, you only need to draw that specific part."
"However, in a game, we not only have to design the rabbit, but also consider the surrounding environment. We can't just have an empty void outside of the rabbit's burrow.
There have to be trees nearby, grass under the trees, and if the player happens to chase it too far, they might even encounter a goblin or something similar."
Hearing this, Hayao Miyazaki burst into laughter.
"Haha... that's so interesting."
"That's right. Animation only shows what we want the audience to see; we wouldn't draw even a single extra second," Hayao Miyazaki said seriously. "Perhaps whether there are mountains or rivers outside the frame doesn't matter, because they aren't part of the storyboard.
Looking at it this way, creating games is indeed more complex; it's equivalent to creating an entire world."
And wasn't that the truth?
Aoki Haruhi thought to himself that future games would be about creating worlds.
Simply put, a game producer, compared to a film director, is more like playing the role of God.
God doesn't need to dictate people's specific actions or stories; it's enough to just build the world and provide sufficiently rich elements.
Of course, these concepts were far too advanced for the current gaming industry.
With the current level of hardware, an open world was simply unsustainable.
However, in reality, Pokeni's Pokémon already had a subtle, lingering feel of an open world.
It's just that this world was very, very small, and the presentation of many things was somewhat simple.
The conversation between the two grew increasingly profound. They discussed many differences between games and animation, as well as the joys inherent in the processes of creating both.
The production crew watched the two conversing—one old, one young—and felt as if they were observing old friends, so natural was their exchange.
Consequently, they couldn't help but be secretly surprised.
Originally, everyone had been skeptical, believing that Hayao Miyazaki inviting Aogi Haruhi to be a guest for the Porco Rosso interview was a mistake.
Although Pokeni seemed to be on a roll lately, it was, after all, a small company, and Aogi hadn't accomplished anything earth-shattering.
Their main focus, galgames, hadn't exactly had the best reputation two years ago.
What was the point of inviting someone like this?
Surely, inviting a master like Shigeru Miyamoto would have been a fair dialogue, wouldn't it?
In a while, Miyazaki was set to have a conversation with director Akira Kurosawa; that was the pinnacle discussion everyone had in mind—the collision of ideas between masters of their respective fields.
That would have clout, generate views, and make for great headlines.
But who on earth was Aogi?
Not only was he lacking in fame, but he was also absurdly young.
Putting these two people together, they aren't even on the same level; the production team should have been breaking out in a cold sweat.
After all, with the disparity in status and age, it's very easy for the conversation to become one-sided—
For example, Aoki could have been completely crushed by Miyazaki during the chat, left speechless by the latter's questions, or even reduced to just a nodding parrot.
That would have been pathetic.
Furthermore, another concern everyone had was that this guy might start rambling about galgames or even get into "blue" topics during the interview, which would have been absolutely shocking.
Fortunately, none of that happened.
Aoki's responses were quite professional, possessed a strong sense of affability, and his explanations were simple and easy to understand, even for laypeople who had never made a game before.
The director pondered for a long time, and suddenly had a realization—
It seems like President Aoki is teaching people "how to become a god"!
I don't mean that in a joking way; it was a genuine feeling of "the divine." Isn't this exactly how a god creates a world?
Of course, this seems a bit off-topic, and it doesn't really have much to do with Porco Rosso itself.
But the content of their conversation was very engaging, making everyone listen attentively.
My goodness!
Realizing this fact, the members of the filming crew all widened their eyes and looked at each other in dismay.
It didn't seem to be a one-sided affair after all.
Although no one had thought much of Aoki Haruhi initially, at this moment, it felt like a genuine "dialogue between masters."
Both were speaking from the perspectives of their respective fields, engaging in an artistic exchange and a collision of ideas.
At the same time, in the process of finding common ground and differences, they were gaining a deeper understanding of each other's work.
Not only that, they were even beginning to develop a sense of awe for one another.
Aoki Haruhi didn't feel ashamed that his company made galgames; instead, he spoke about the development process of these games based on his own philosophy, which commanded respect.
Terrifying...
And this guy only seems to be 28 years old.
We had been talking for almost an hour, so it was about time to wrap things up.
Hayao Miyazaki still seemed eager to continue, but under pressure from the director, he prepared to make his final remarks.
"Aoki-san, I believe that animation and games actually share a common point: they are both tools for expressing ideas, a vessel for culture."
Miyazaki smiled as he said, "Whether it's animation or games, they both need an entry point that is low and wide, so that people can appreciate them.
But the exit point must be high.
That is the fate of those of us who express ourselves.
Right?"
Hm?
Aoki Haruhi shuddered all over, as if struck by an electric current.
In truth, he had never seriously considered this question before, regarding the so-called "meaning" or "thought" within games.
If one had to say, Super Mario is probably the most popular game in the world, right?
What is its underlying thought?
Simply defeating an evil dragon to save a princess; at best, it's nothing more than a fairy tale.
It's probably a long way off from the "depth" Miyazaki speaks of.
Even so, Aoki Haruhi did not disagree with what Miyazaki had said.
Quite the contrary.
He deeply felt that since games are a carrier of culture, being able to create works with depth, in addition to bringing joy to players, is actually a more advanced approach.
No, to be more precise, it is a more idealistic approach.
Hayao Miyazaki is an idealist through and through, which is why he has higher requirements for animated films and hopes to integrate and provoke thought within them, allowing the audience to feel the depth within the animation.
Whether it's Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, Porco Rosso, Princess Mononoke, or Spirited Away...
Miyazaki has indeed done just that, seeking more contemplation on the world, humanity, society, and the human heart within his films.
These are exactly the things that Aoki Haruhi currently lacks.
There's a reason Miyazaki is called a master; his intellectual height is right there.
"Yes," Aoki nodded earnestly. "Thank you, Miyazaki-sensei. I have much to learn from you."
"No, no."
Miyazaki waved his hands, looking genuinely humble. "It is I who have much to learn from you."
He chuckled, "From being completely opposed to making games in the beginning, to now, inspired by you, I'm even feeling a bit eager to try. If I use games as a medium, could I create the things I truly want to express?
That is a very interesting question, and one well worth pondering."
It's about time.
That wraps up today's conversation.
The director gave an "OK" gesture. Today's interview was perfect, and there will surely be plenty to write about for tomorrow's headlines.
The film crew finished their wrap-up, and everyone began busily hauling the equipment out to the van.
At the same time, Hayao Miyazaki stood in the middle of the room with a smile and said to Aoki Haruhi:
"What I said earlier about 'making a game' wasn't just empty talk.
Ghibli is currently working on several animations, and I'm directing two of them myself. For 'Princess Mononoke,' which I'm currently conceiving and preparing to bring to life, I really hope that, alongside the film, it can also meet everyone in the form of a game."
Huh?!
Aoki Haruhi was stunned.
Hayao Miyazaki wants to make a game?!
Did I hear that right?!
Damn, the competition in the gaming industry is getting way too intense, isn't it?
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