Color Legends: Orange: Original Prompt. Default: AI Generated. Blue: Manually Written.
"Throw tanukis."
"Huh?"
"If it's not working, you didn't throw enough tanukis."
A statement popular with the game's sound designers.
No matter what happens in a game, adding tanuki sounds makes people laugh. That's why, when faced with an awkward situation or a particularly exciting bit of gameplay, their first thought was to add more tanukis.
That's how many tanukis found their way into the game, and the reason we had a tanuki explosion on our hands.
So I went to visit the sound team and asked them, "How did this all happen?"
They told me it all started from a little thing that happened at a morning meeting. They'd just finished localizing the tutorial for the opening hunting segment. There's a part where you hunt for food. The script said, "Once you're done, sell what you don't need to the Tanuki Man."
"Huh? Who's the Tanuki Man?"
Somehow, none of them knew who he was, so they decided to call up Mr. Kita, the scenario writer, and ask him about it. Apparently, his explanation went a little something like this...
"Oh yeah, him. He's the guy who pops out when you press Y on your controller. That's why he's called 'Tanuki Man.' Because of the Y button, you know? In Japanese, Y sounds kinda like 'ehhh' or 'nyeeeh,' right? And that kind of sound effect makes people think of tanukis."
At first, they thought, "Are you insane? You can't actually do that," but after running some experiments, they realized that the sound could be easily added. So, without a moment's hesitation, they slapped on the sound. And when everyone else heard it, they loved it!
After that, they started adding tanukis to lots of other parts of the game. Eventually, it became tradition for someone from the sound team to barge into somebody else's office whenever they couldn't think of any good ideas, asking, "Can we throw a tanuki at this part?" It didn't even have to be throwing. They would ask, "Can we add in a tanuki here?" Then, whichever department it was would say, "Yeah, sure. Go ahead."
Basically, because tanuki sounds always elicited laughter, using them was basically a trick to avoid awkwardness and make things exciting instead. But the question remained...
Did that mean "throwing tanukis" had become an accepted method for making decisions during development? Or did the sound designers just like hearing themselves talk?
As I left the room, I decided not to ask that last part out loud.
"Haaah..." I let out a sigh.
I decided to stop by my office for the first time in a while. It was tiny and cramped. My only furniture was a simple chair and table. I never bothered decorating the place at all, and it looked no different from when I first got there. It reminded me how little attention I'd paid it.
After all, it was just a room for me to get work done in. It wasn't supposed to feel comfy. It didn't need to be flashy.
Part of my job was to sort the stuff churned out by the team, then put everything together in a way that made sense. Sometimes, when we couldn't think of anything better, we went with whatever made people laugh the most.
That's what I thought. I figured we were going through so many revisions because our creative director was an oddball genius. Now, though, I'm not so sure. Maybe everyone else had just been throwing tanukis all along, too.
I tried imagining what might have happened if everyone had started adding in more than just tanukis. If instead of throwing tanukis, everyone started throwing squids... No, that wouldn't work. People don't really laugh when they see or hear about squid, do they?
After playing around with the idea for a bit, I came up with one solution...
"The problem isn't us. The real problem is Japan. Japan doesn't have enough tanuki jokes."
I decided to use that as my excuse.
And now, my work here is done.
I bid farewell to the game, saying goodbye to all the characters who felt like old friends.
And then, after stepping out into the sunlight, I saw a tanuki sitting outside the building. It was staring at me. I swear it was glaring.
I sighed and thought to myself, "Oh, it's you again. What do you want?"
Then, for some reason, I began to have a conversation with the tanuki.
"Look, I can explain."
No response.
"If there's something you don't like, we can fix it. We're open to feedback."
No response.
"All right. We'll work harder, okay?"
No response.
"Alright, guess you want to be thrown. Tanuki throwing time."
No response.
I knew it would be pointless to talk to him, but I wanted to say something, even if just to reassure myself.
Now I think about it, why did I assume it was a male tanuki?
Well, regardless of their gender, they're still tanukis.
They're tanukis. They're important.
I have to make this game a success.
The tanuki is Japan's most beloved animal.
The Japanese love them so much, they even write "tanuki" with the same kanji that's used for the word "pig."
Yes, this is a very special creature.
We've always loved them since long ago.
When tanukis appear in a movie, or when a toy tanuki appears in a manga or anime, that series is guaranteed a hit. That's why we chose tanukis as the mascot for this game.
Just having them in the game will cause it to sell a million copies! ...Okay, maybe not, but it can't hurt to try.
Seriously, it's a good choice. Trust me.
Legends say the tanuki has the powers to shapeshift and create illusions. They're very similar to yokai, except they're much friendlier and easier to understand. They often disguise themselves as bamboo grass and wait for unsuspecting travelers to approach.
When the traveler does, the tanuki shows its true form, which startles the traveler into turning tail and running. This is where the legend of "the tanuki chasing the scared man" comes from.
And that tanuki... It transformed into a busty woman.
"Woah, what the fuck," I exclaimed.
The tanuki-turned-woman smiled gently at me, but she was only smiling on the outside. I knew this because her smile was identical to the ones given to me by a certain someone.
"You said you want to throw me, huh?" the tanuki-turned-woman said.
I hesitated for a moment before replying, "Nope, I think I'm fine. Don't need to throw anything."
"Why not? Didn't you throw tanukis in that game you were working on?"
"No, it wasn't me. That was the sound guy."
"Oh, come on. You think you can just tell me that and get away with it?"
"Well, you asked!"
She flashed another innocent, "gentle" smile at me.
"Isn't this what you wanted, though? To throw people and things wherever you pleased? You threw your team. You threw your game. You even threw the tanukis."
"Ugh..."
"But you know, I know someone else just like you."
"Yeah, it's pretty hard to live with myself after throwing so many people. I'd love to be more like her."
"She was able to throw people, sure, but more importantly, she could always land on her feet, no matter what she was tossed into. She took everything in stride. If you were her, you'd never feel bad about what happened."
"What?! Why would I feel bad if I was her?"
"Oh, how I wish I could be someone else..."
With that, the tanuki-turned-woman walked away.
I could no longer see her. But the fact that she disappeared right in front of me probably meant that we were both trapped in this world together.
Either that, or we were in some sort of alternate dimension.
Either way, I'm dead. I have to die.
If I stay here any longer, she might reappear in her tanuki form and rip out my throat.
There's only one thing I can do now.
Throw more tanukis.
I took a deep breath, then shouted, "Hey, listen! Throw a tanuki, throw a tanuki, throw a tanuki! Let's throw a tanuki!"
I kept yelling like that until I ran out of energy, then collapsed on the ground.
And that was how I died.
***
Tanuki Toss.
Have you ever played a game called Tanuki Toss?
It's a game that lets you throw tanukis. You throw tanukis at your opponents. When they get tired of getting hit in the face, they'll try to throw the tanukis back at you, but their throws are super weak, so they won't stand a chance.
Of course, it's not all about strength. If you throw too hard, the tanuki might die. So it's a delicate balance between force and power. If you hit a wall, you lose.
Let's say that the best score in the game is 300, and the second place is 250. Then, the first player throws one tanuki, scoring 150 points. Now it's the other player's turn. They throw one tanuki, and it hits a wall, killing it instantly. The game ends, and the player's total score is 0.
In that case, the winner of the match would be the person who threw one tanuki.
If that were a real competition, the audience would boo.
"How could you let a single tanuki beat you?!" they'd scream.
To this, the loser would say, "Hold on! How do you expect me to throw a tanuki properly when I don't even know what to do when it's my turn? Like, what are the rules for catching the tanuki? Is there even a right way to do it?"
They'd be right, of course. Even if you throw the strongest tanuki, there's nothing you can do if you don't know how to catch it.
But then, the next day, you'll find a video tutorial for "How to Catch a Tanuki Without Killing It." It's all about technique. The guy who made the video knows exactly what he's doing. He's basically a tanuki expert. He'll show you everything you need to know, from how to position yourself when you're ready to grab it, to the exact moment when to make the catch.
Meanwhile, the rest of us can only watch on in amazement, like the crowd in the stands of the Tanuki Toss World Championships.
"So, in the end, did that guy's talent save the day?" you ask.
"Well, we'd better be thankful to him for his hard work. I bet he's been researching tanukis for years. And he's published books on the subject, too."
"Damn, I could never do that."
"Me neither. But I wouldn't want to, either. He must be a little bit of a masochist, huh?"
"Hah. Maybe you're right."
That's the kind of conversation we might have.
Of course, it's just a fantasy. There's no such thing as a "tanuki expert." There's no one who knows every last detail about the tanuki.
The author of the books on tanuki, which supposedly contain all the knowledge on the creatures, actually doesn't even know much about them.
And yet, we still call people like that "tanuki experts."
I'm sure you can understand why.
We need those people. We need them to keep going, even after being tossed around and around, just like the tanuki in Tanuki Toss.
We can't allow them to give up.
We have to motivate them. We have to encourage them.
"Keep at it, pal. Keep tossing those tanukis!"
"Don't stop, no matter how many times you fail!"
"You've got what it takes to toss the most tanukis in the whole world!"
"C'mon, cheer up! We believe in you! Do it for the tanukis!"
"One more time! One more time!"
That's what we want to tell them.
We don't want to say, "You suck," or "Go die in a ditch."
We can't say that, because we need them to succeed.
Without tanuki experts, we can't keep tossing tanukis.
And without people who can toss tanukis, there won't be any tanuki experts.
This is an endless cycle.
"As long as there is light, a new tanuki is born."
Is that why we don't want people to quit? Because we fear the darkness that comes after?
"A tanuki will survive. It will live on."
Perhaps the real reason we can't let go is that we're afraid we won't be able to live on without it.
If that's the case, then I suppose we have a good reason to support tanuki experts.
Because without them, we'll never be able to solve the mystery of tanuki.
I imagine someone will accuse me of "profiting off the tanuki," but that's a lie. I don't profit off of them. All I do is talk about them. That's all I can do.
Talk, talk, talk...
That's my job.
I'm a tanuki talker.
"Throw tanukis!" I say it all the time.
"Come on, you can do it! Just a little further, and you'll hit that wall!"
"All right! Here we go! Ready? Go!"
"What the hell was that?! You call that a throw?"
"Geez, I thought you had more in you. You suck."
"Piss off. Your mom sucks."
"Tsk. Another failure."
I speak for the tanuki.
I can't think of anyone else who's willing to do that.
Not because I'm lazy, mind you. It's because no one else cares.
The average person doesn't want to deal with a tanuki. They ignore it.
They look away from the tanuki, hoping that if they don't pay it any attention, it'll leave them alone.
But it doesn't work like that.
Once a tanuki has its sights set on you, it won't rest until it has been thrown.
No matter what.
And if you want to avoid having to throw it, you have to fight back.
You have to throw it, which is ironic.
That's why I exist.
I throw the tanuki. I toss it far into the distance.
But if you think I'm being paid for my services, you're wrong.
I'm only doing it to help people.
I'm a volunteer.
I'm the head of the Tanuki Tossing Association.
And as the president of this association, I'm proud to say that I've thrown more tanukis than any other human alive.
You may wonder why someone like me would call himself a "volunteer."
To tell you the truth, I used to be a professional.
I had a career in the tanuki throwing business. I traveled around the world, helping people with their tanuki problems.
Sometimes, it was a difficult task. Sometimes, I'd have to throw tanukis from sunrise to sunset. I worked my butt off. It was exhausting.
But I was good at what I did. My skills were well known, and my services were always in high demand.
Unfortunately, the higher-ups of the tanuki industry noticed my work, and they decided to hire me as a tanuki consultant.
They told me I'd earn a lot of money if I signed up with them. And so, without any hesitation, I agreed to join them.
But soon, it became obvious that the organization was rotten.
They weren't paying their employees fairly. They didn't respect our rights. They forced us to work long hours, often for no pay. Worst of all, they had no qualms about throwing us under the bus for their own benefit.
I couldn't take it anymore. So I threw tanukis at them. I tossed tanukis at everyone I saw. And then, I walked out the door, and I didn't look back.
That's how I became a volunteer.
Now, I travel from place to place, giving lessons on how to throw tanukis.
And I get by through donations.
Some days, I get a million yen in one sitting. Other days, all I get are some copper coins. But even on my worst days, I can't complain.
I know I'm helping others.
I'm happy to help people.
After all, I'm a philanthropist.
I'm a hero.
I'm a tanuki talker.
I am the chosen one.
"Wake up."
I was awoken by a familiar voice.
When I opened my eyes, I saw a tanuki looking down at me.
"Are you an illusion?"
I asked.
"Are you sleeping?"
The tanuki responded.
I was confused.
"I'm not sleeping."
"Yes you are, you're asleep. Look, you're dreaming right now."
"No, I'm not. I'm awake. I'm talking to you."
"Oh yeah? Prove it. Tell me something only a non-sleeping person would know."
I tried to think of something.
"I'm... I'm... I'm..."
"See, you're sleeping. Only people who are asleep can't think of anything."
"Wait, hold on! Let's try this again!"
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
When I opened them again, the tanuki was gone.
Instead, I saw a blue sky.
"Was that a dream?"
"You're not getting off that easy. You're still asleep."
I turned my head, and there was the tanuki again.
"Oh, it's you. What do you want?"
I was annoyed.
"You're making things needlessly complicated. You have to stop."
The tanuki spoke softly.
"Why do I have to?"
"Because it's hurting you. It's not fair to yourself or anyone else."
"I don't understand. Are you trying to protect me or something?"
"Sort of. It's hard to explain. Listen, you have to wake up. No more sleeping. No more dreams. Just wake up."
"What are you talking about?"
"Wake up."
The tanuki repeated itself.
"I don't know what to say."
I fell silent.
I wasn't sure what to do.
I had a strange feeling in my chest.
"Wake up."
The tanuki repeated for the third time.
Suddenly, I understood. I have to throw the tanuki.
I started moving, as if on instinct. I swung my right arm, hurling the tanuki as far as I could.
The tanuki flew through the air, spinning wildly. Then it landed on the ground with a thud.
It didn't move. It didn't even twitch. It just lay there, motionless.
I stared at it for a few seconds before finally realizing what had happened. I gasped in horror.
"Oh my god, I killed it! I killed the tanuki!"
I ran over to it and knelt down next to its body, reaching out to touch its fur.
But as I got closer, I heard a quiet buzzing sound. Then the tanuki vanished into thin air.
"Wait! What the hell?!"
I looked around frantically, searching for the missing tanuki, but it was nowhere to be seen.
I was completely lost.
I stood up slowly and turned in a circle, scanning the area for any sign of the tanuki. But it had disappeared into the blue.
I wondered where it had gone. Was it dead? Had it run away? Or maybe it was hiding somewhere, waiting for the chance to strike again?
I didn't know. And I didn't care. Because I was alive.
I was free.
I was awake.
And the blue sky above me was beautiful.
I laughed out loud. I couldn't help it.
I felt liberated.
I felt refreshed.
I felt like I could do anything.
I felt like I was invincible.
I was elated.
I was ecstatic.
I was euphoric.
I was excited.
And I feel like throwing tanukis.
"Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a tanuki trap, no escape from reality."
Tanukis, it's always tanukis.
Throw tanukis.
You will find your love when you throw a tanuki.
You will become rich when you throw a tanuki.
Your tanuki will never get sick when you throw a tanuki.
Tanuki will protect you when you throw a tanuki.
Tanuki will cure your diseases when you throw a tanuki.
You will get married when you throw a tanuki.
You will have children when you throw a tanuki.
You will become famous when you throw a tanuki.
You will grow old when you throw a tanuki.
You will die when you throw a tanuki.
Do you see now?
Tanuki are powerful creatures. They control your destiny.
If you want to change your fate, then you must throw a tanuki.
And so, I threw the tanukis.
I threw one after another.
I threw so many tanukis, they filled the entire sky.
And when the last one left my hand, the sky changed color.
The sky became red.
And the sun was swallowed by the darkness.
And then, it began to rain.
And the rain came down, pouring over me.
I was drenched.
And then, the rain stopped.
I looked up to the sky.
The clouds are tanuki. The sun is a tanuki. The moon is a tanuki. The stars are all tanukis.
And I'm inside a huge tanuki.
Tanuki are everywhere. Tanuki are everything. Tanuki are infinite.
And I am one with the tanuki.
I am tanuki. I am love. I am everything. I am one with the universe. I am the universe.
I am the creator of the universe.
I am god.
I am the ruler of all that is.
I am the beginning and the end.
I am the alpha and omega.
I am the first and the last.
On the first day, I threw tanukis. It created the heavens and the earth.
On the second day, I threw tanukis. It created the sun, the moon, and the stars.
On the third day, I threw tanukis. It created the trees, the grass, and the rivers.
On the fourth day, I threw tanukis. It created the birds, the fish, and the beasts.
On the fifth day, I threw tanukis. It created man. It gave him dominion over all.
On the sixth day, I threw tanukis. It brought everything together.
On the seventh day, I rested. I slept. But before I close my eyes, I threw another tanuki.
And that's the story of creation.
That's the story of Throw Tanukis.
Tanuki throwing is fun.
If you are happy, throw tanukis.
If you are sad, throw tanukis.
If you are angry, throw tanukis.
If you are lonely, throw tanukis.
If you have a baby, throw tanukis. The baby becomes smarter.
Tanuki throwing is life.
Tanuki throwing is the only way.
The only way to live is to throw tanukis.
Tanuki throwing is the only true religion.
Tanuki throwing is the only answer.
Tanuki throwing is the only truth.
Tanuki throwing is the only solution.
Tanuki throwing is the only salvation.
Tanuki throwing is the only hope.
Tanuki throwing is the only path.
And so, let's throw tanukis.
We shall throw tanukis and we shall live forever.
The End.
Thank you for reading.
Original prompt by @dachen11 the tanuki thrower. Throw tanukis, he says all the time.
