天下制覇

KyoAni's getting ever closer to making a show about a mentally retarded girl frantically trying to revive her dead puppy in WW2.

I think we're just going to pass on by the boy harem show about a bunch of princes/boy band (because of course that's what the ED is) fawning over a breathy scarecrow.

Impressions:

This begins in much the same way as that Dragon King thing, with an overly melodramatic bit of utter dross. A gem catches the girl's eye and she clutches her chest at the sheer emotion it invokes in her as the music swells to theatrical heights… before cutting away to a recovery ward where we follow the musical journey of a piece of a paper blowing through the streets. After those three minutes of masturbation, the internal narration begins. Dialogue? Story? Pfft. You're barking up the wrong tree, buddy. We're here to see an emotionally stunted crippled girl with giant glistening eyes stare gormlessly and do everything that she's told, without thought or question. Which is what we quickly get back to, with her on her hands and knees, flailing and helpless from fallng out of the hospital bed, while sad music plays and every source of light floods the area, creating a haze that never leaves.

A lot of hay will no doubt be made of the war bits, especially the one where bloody and armless, she desperately tries to drag the dying dude she was pining for by her teeth, but the same goddamned song was playing over that as played over every single other thing. There is only one tone, one theme to the entire episode; "Violet is such a tragic robot girl." Start to finish. Unrelenting. Unceasing. The closest thing to levity is that she lacks social nuance, so starts to change in front of a man who yells "EEEEH!?" No characterization for anybody beyond that. No story beyond that. So no matter how loud the orchestra gets, or how much you want to animate the lost paper flapping through the wind, there's no depth. These aren't living characters in a story, just superficial attempts to relentlessly wail on the heartstrings by way of a fifty ton orchestra, and I continue to find that more grating that a thousand bouncing tits attempting to appeal to my dick ever could be.