The Wonderful Horror of Made In Abyss

If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you. I figured the first time I'd quote Nietzsche in one of these videos would be when I eventually tackled the themes of recreators, but as I was rewatching Made in Abyss for the fourth time now, I happened to pause the first episode on this shot, staring down into the gaping pit from which the series draws its name. And in that moment, I felt that quote more than I ever have at any time that I wasn't reading a youtube comment section. In all likelihood, that's quite intentional. With the swirling clouds and the void forming highlights and the ring of the caldera surrounding Orth as the lids, the great pit looks a great deal like an eye here, so massive that its view encompasses the entire city and everything in it – including, our heroes Rico and Reg, and perhaps even us as we watch them. There's something… eerily inviting about that gaze. It makes you just wanna… dive deeper and deeper into it, in the hopes that you might understand what lies behind it and maybe, if you're really lucky, see what it sees in you. This video is about that feeling, as it exists within the show's world, and spills out into ours. Before we get into that, though, please direct your gaze towards this gorgeous Made in Abyss statue, the first officially licensed one in the world. Its creators, Figurama Collectors, were kind enough to sponsor this video in the hopes that you might consider pre-ordering it on August 29th at 11pm Japan Standard Time, 7am Pacific. Note the quality and texture of the paint job, the exquisite detailing on the character's clothing, the dynamic poses and show-accurate modelling, the lights in both characters' headlamps, Reg's optional incinerator hand, and the base – the most LEDs that Figurama Collectors has ever put into one piece. And that base is a sculpture unto itself, containing a bunch of tiny worldbuilding details. One thing you can't see in a video is build quality, and I wasn't able to get my hands on this specific figure since it just came out of the prototype phase with updated facial expressions for both characters, but they did send me this Trigun 20th Anniversary Dash the Stampede statue, and by Haruhi, this thing is both gorgeous and immaculately constructed. Seriously, one of the finest premium figurines I have ever laid my hands on. And… it comes with a cap! And this 1-6 scale statue IS premium. Made of polystone, PVC, and diecast metal, it would normally run you 485 US dollars, but you can knock that down to 460 if you use the code MBABYSS when you check out. That's the largest discount you'll find for this figurine, and Figurama collectors is offering it EXCLUSIVELY to Mother's Basement viewers. There will only be 500 of these limited edition figures available, and some of their runs have sold out in as few as 6 hours, so make sure you both sign up for their email waitlist at the link in the dooblydoo and mark your calendar for August 29th, because it's gonna be the pride of some huge Maiden Abyss fans' collection, and I hope it's yours. Maiden Abyss has a reputation for being an anime about suffering. Much ado has been made about how the show subverts the tone of a typical kid-friendly adventure narrative by removing the expectation of a return journey, and digs down into disconcerting territory by doing horrible things to children right in front of you. And that's definitely true. But I don't think it fully encapsulates why the series' choice of protagonists and narrative framing is so damn brilliant. The Abyss is pretty much objectively horrifying. Even at the shallow depths that the orphanage sends raiders in training down to, there are massive, carnivorous territorial spiders, and occasionally, even more massive man-eating birds, hoversnakes, and other predators that come up from down below seeking snacks. Just by dipping down to the first layer, those young red whistles also subject themselves to dizziness and nausea, and it only gets progressively worse the deeper down they go. In purely rational terms, it's a place that one would want to stay as far away from as humanly possible, yet we never see it from a purely rational perspective. We're almost always in Riko's head, and if not, in Reg's, seeing the Abyss as the playful frontier full of untold wonder that she sees. To her, everything about it – the relics, the strange geography, even the crazy monsters – is fun and enticing. The mystery of what she'll see next, always worth pursuing. It's hard not to relate to as you turn the pages or watch on, eager to see what's coming next yourself. This naive framing, particularly as it's augmented by the tidbits of lore sprinkled throughout the manga, pushes the inherent allure of the Abyss to the forefront. Even as horrors mount upon horrors deep within the depths, that playful allure is validated, time and again, by the discovery of adorable, mysterious critters like Shroombears, Naritantans, and of course, Nanachi. And Reg's existence alone promises even greater discoveries still in store. As a viewer, I can't help feeling excited every time a new creature appears. Their designs are gorgeous and unique, and the rough, sketchy manner in which many of them are animated is creepy and almost hypnotic. There are few individual bits of animation I love more than those terrifying monkey things that hurl rocks at Reg and Riko when they reach the second layer, and this series had new delights like that waiting around every corner. The only thing more darkly beautiful than the creatures of the Abyss is the bizarre landscape they call home. From the lush, cascading hills of the first layer, to the stark cliff face and tight, twisting tunnels of the third, to the crystalline waters and frozen sands of the fifth, not to mention Idofront, the massive facility at its center, ancient architecture repurposed towards sinister ends using modern technology. There are so many arresting, majestic, breathtaking sights waiting to be seen down there. That's true whether you're reading the manga or watching the anime. Though I will say that I prefer the anime, because that majesty – along with the danger lurking within it, and so much else besides – is accentuated impeccably by Kevin Penkin's equally breathtaking score. Music's about as far from my wheelhouse as artforms get, but while I can't say exactly how he does it, I do know that he managed to capture and enhance every aspect of the show, world, and characters, from Riko's confident, playful curiosity and Reg's naive, stiff timidity, to Nanachi's indescribable sadness. Some of my favourite songs in the soundtrack are those that simply speak to the atmosphere of the Abyss itself. Creating wonder and emotional warmth amid overwhelming dread and melancholy like a small fire flickering bright in a raging blizzard. But unlike many anime OSTs, there are strong, memorable melodies mixed in with that ambience. Hummable tunes that wouldn't feel out of place in a video game. And all of that combines to create this undeniable feeling – one that hits me even as I have the OST playing in the background while I write – of Going on a Capital A Adventure. The steampunk adventure aspects of Made in Abyss' setting are only really prominent at its surface in Orth, a microcosm of the wider, steam-powered world beyond the sea, but the essence of that aesthetic permeates the series all the way down. My favourite thing about steampunk as a genre – or at least the works in it that derive inspiration from Laputa, Castle in the Sky – is how they call back to the age of discovery. Also known as the age of unchecked colonialism and imperialism. But the nice thing about this kind of fiction is that it mostly allows us to separate the romantic ideal of exploration and the frontier spirit from the horrifying realities that often resulted from And in some cases, replace those with entirely different horrifying realities. It's not hard to trace the influence of Laputa on Made in Abyss. The genders and directions are flipped, but both start with a young, wide-eyed protagonist meeting their unconscious future adventuring partner after they've travelled a long vertical distance from the general vicinity of that protagonist's goal with a blue pendant in tow. And the adventurous spirit of heroes like Pazu, Nadia's Jean, and Grandia's Justin runs strong in Riko. With nowhere left to run in this world that's all been discovered already… except… down. Riko pours over relic records and reads bestiaries as bedtime stories – something the adults of Orth encourage by filling them with pretty pictures and putting on puppet shows about cave raiding – but Riko needs no such encouragement. She is ever thirsting for more knowledge of what lies below, and always dreaming of the day she can see it for herself. There's a certain fairy tale charm to the abyss as we see it through her eyes – less pronounced, but still present through those of the timid reg – that persists no matter how deep they go, and no matter what they face. As a result, it's impossible to read or watch the series without feeling Riko's curiosity and wonder in the very depths of your soul. And while that seems at first blush to offset the series' innate terror, it only enhances it when you realize that feeling – not unlike the urge to enter your hole in Amigahara Fault – is how the abyss gets you. It's said multiple times throughout the series that the abyss simply… calls to some people, and I don't think it's purely in an abstract, lure of the unknown kind of way. We know that its force field can interact directly with the human mind, sending hallucinatory images into it and reflecting intent back out for creatures like the orb piercer to read. Those effects do become less pronounced toward the top of the pit, and aren't consciously felt at all by its edge, but… that doesn't mean the field is entirely contained to the area beneath Orth. Something has to be causing the birthday death disease, after all. I think the field is just thick enough, out by the edge, to push notions and longings into the minds of the people there, much stronger in some than others. For a lot of raiders, it seems to be felt as a call to work. To find treasure, make a living, advance up the whistle ranks, toward fame and fortune down in the depths. For those like Riko, though, all of those things are simply fringe benefits that come with embracing a much simpler truth. There's a pit out there. And it's not gonna raid itself. Riko has been crawling towards the bottom from the moment she was born, and while she comes up with plenty of reasons to justify this drive – from wanting to be like her mother, to wanting to be with her mother, to wanting to help Reg discover the truth about himself – they're all, ultimately, just excuses. At her very core, Riko needs to know what's down there. It's a powerful and unnatural compulsion that pushes her forward, downward, even when Reg is out of commission and has implored her to stay still. The same unquenchable curiosity called to her mother – though likely not as strongly, since Riko was changed in some way when the curse-warding box resurrected her stillborn corpse – and I suspect that's true for every White Whistle. We know that Ozen has run some experiments on herself to discern the true nature of the abyss at deeper levels, and doing them on others is kinda Bondrewd's whole shtick. It seems like Uncle Habbo feels a similar compulsion, given his ambition to become a White Whistle himself, despite his wife's protestations. But, as I said, not every cave raider feels the calling in the same way. Some are motivated by the fortune awaiting them in the depths, or the renown they can earn by recovering rare relics. Rather than a feeling, many of them are drawn in by the tangible treasures present in the top layer, hinting at what's below. And, perhaps, like the impulses emanating from the depths, those were sent to lure those less psychically susceptible down. The series' worldbuilding certainly implies as much, and I really think I did those aspects of Maiden Abyss a disservice in my original video about the series. The one where I said it should have been a video game. I stand by a lot of the analysis I did in that video, but definitely not its overriding sentiment that this show or the manga it's based on is anything less than a masterpiece, and I really failed to recognize how the deliberate aspects of game's writing and design present in Maiden Abyss enhance it as a non-interactive narrative. Take Hammerbeaks, for example. I originally said that they only really make sense as a rations-on-wings, resource-dispensing survival game NPC, but when you actually think about what they imply, they're in some ways far scarier than the more aggressive monsters lurking in the abyss. Hammerbeak meat is nutritious and delicious, while their hard, domed skulls function as both flint and cookware, sized perfectly to fit the rest of them. Their feathers are also highly flammable, and make for perfect kindling. They really are rations-on-wings. None of those features would logically help these creatures survive or thrive in their environment, so it's… unlikely that they're the result of conventional evolutionary pressures. That leaves just one explanation for their existence, as inescapable as the abyss itself. Hammerbeaks must have been designed for human consumption, by someone or something that then spread them out across the first four layers of the abyss to make the descent more survivable. Right down to the layer where ascending suddenly becomes… decidedly less so. The Abyss is designed like a game. Akihito Tsukushi has explicitly named Wizardry and Dark Souls as inspirations for the series, and like any good game, it has a well-refined difficulty curve. It's an immensely dangerous and challenging place, but every step of the journey feels just barely doable to anyone who managed the last. And as the relics get more precious and powerful the further down you go, the reward always manages to match the risk. In the context of a game, I wouldn't think much of that, because I know the purpose behind it. But in any other medium, there's something… sinister about that very deliberate balance of challenge and accessibility. After all, it's a well-tuned difficulty curve and well-paced reward system that takes a game from distraction to compulsion to addiction. This is how we design things, to draw people in. The question, then, who did the designing? And why? Did some ancient, all-powerful civilization build the abyss and create robots like Reg to watch over it? Is it just a social experiment, bro? Or is it the work of something… inhuman? Certainly, some creatures of the abyss have an intelligence about them that exceeds animal instinct. The Crimson Splitjaw, for example, is capable of remembering Reg's incinerator, and prioritizing revenge over its own fear of that weapon and survival instincts. And as Ozen warns, the deeper one dives into the abyss, the more cunning and dangerous its predators become. Which implies that some greater alien intelligences might just be lurking in the lower layers. But then, the first example we see of that is Orby. And Orby… isn't really all that smart. It simply reads the thoughts of others and uses them to determine its own actions. The deadliest creatures in the abyss seem to be so deadly only because they can use the intelligence of others as a guide. So maybe there is some greater intelligence guiding them. It wouldn't surprise me at all to learn that the abyss itself is alive. If it is, then it clearly wants to be explored. Wants to lure stronger and stronger adventurers deeper and deeper into it, to challenge and change them, augmenting their minds and bodies with relics and the effects of the curse alike for some as-yet unknown purpose. Does it also want to be conquered? Is it simply awaiting a cave raider with the right stuff to make it to the bottom? Or is that just a carrot on a stick, meant to lure victims in and prepare them to be… consumed? As Super Eyepatch Wolf pointed out in his video about the series, beneath the twisted city and inscrutable mass of eye-like shapes that form the 6th and 7th layers respectively, the map of the abyss starts to look an awful lot like a hungry, gaping mouth. If it is hungry, it is certainly well fed. The current group of cave raiders who built the city of Orth has been going at it for some 1900 years now, and the praying skeletons that litter the first layer are all at least 2000 years old, with some dating back a full 6 millennia. Entire civilizations we know nothing about have lived off of and worshipped and died in the abyss as the people of Orth do now. Built their own devices to aid in exploring it that now lay in moss-covered ruins, just… another part of the landscape. Someone sailed a ship down there at some point, and somehow got it stuck halfway into and halfway up a multi-kilometer sheer cliff wall. Was there water down there back then? Or was down there… up here at some point? Who's to say that the abyss always was the way it is now? It is certainly ancient. Far more so, I think, than any of these clues suggest. There are so many questions, and so many people who died at its edge longing for and never getting answers, ultimately becoming questions themselves. Because, of course, nobody can bring the answers back up. You can only find them for yourself by taking the one-way journey down. Accepting all that that entails. Many things about the nature of the abyss are uncertain, and that uncertainty only grows the farther one delves into its depths. But despite the forcefield obscuring all that lies below, one thing about it is crystal clear. The abyss is death itself. The most commonly used name for its innards is the netherworld. Souls are said to return to its bottom, and, of course, anyone who passes the threshold of the sixth layer is dead, for all intents and purposes, to their friends and family up above. A willingness to face death unflinchingly is a common defining trait among shounen protagonists, but in other series, it's merely an ever-present possibility that comes with chasing your goals. Here, it's an inevitability. The goal itself. The dream of all cave raiders is to dodge the insignificant potential deaths on the way down, so that they might find meaning in the final, ultimate death that lies below. Meaning that isn't even promised. They just… have faith that it's there. Because mankind has seen the rest of the world, and there's nowhere else that it… could be. Even in the far-off, frigid pit that Nanachi once called home, people worshipped the abyss, dreamed of travelling to Orth and diving in to uncover its mysteries for themselves. Just the knowledge of its existence is enough to allow its call to echo all the way around the world. And some facts about that world do echo back, felt mostly in the form of… subtle implications in the series itself, from Riko's naive and entirely disinterested perspective. There are caravans of trading ships that come to visit Orth, implying some kind of global economy, and at least two nations beyond the sea competing for the abyss's treasures. Many relics have the capacity to reshape the global balance of power, and whatever country instituted the whistle program clearly did so to maintain an iron grip on that power. I'm a big fan of this kind of microcosmic worldbuilding. It's not all that common in anime, but games like Disco Elysium and the FF7 remake, and books like Dune and most of the Discworld series, demonstrate how rich and enticing a skilled storyteller can make an entire world feel by showing us just one tiny, important, or sometimes unimportant corner of it. Such stories typically fill me with a compulsion to see and learn more of that world or universe outside, but… not Made in Abyss. Whatever mysteries lie outside the pit pale in comparison to those within it. It was there before whatever human powers are vying for control of the world now, and it will likely be there long after all of them are gone. Normally, I'd be all in for exploring the geopolitical intrigue that is implied to surround the abyss, but it all seems so… petty and insignificant next to it. Perhaps because… pretty much all of the characters we meet in the series, besides Auntie Laffy, couldn't care less about anything else. The call, the longing, is just that strong. There is only one thing, one force in all of Made in Abyss' world that is shown to come anywhere near equaling its pull. Love. Which has a pull so strong that Liza had to run away from her greatest love, Riko, down into the abyss before the both of them were fixed in place forever by it. Love defines every character in this series. Ozen loved Liza and both hates and loves Riko because of it. Midy loved Nanachi so much that her love outlasted her very humanity, enduring to protect her partner from the curse of the abyss to the very end. And of course, Nanachi loved her back, enough to dedicate her entire life to ending Midy's eternal suffering, despite the unbearable pain of letting her go. When Riko is stumbling alone through the third layer, lost in a comforting illusion of a return home, it's Reg's absence that pulls her back to reality and back down into the abyss. Whether she returns home or reaches the bottom, neither is worth it to her without him. Likewise, when Reg thinks Riko might die, he goes through utter agony and does horrible things that he'd never want to do without a second thought, even when his character is defined by second-guessing and indecision for the slimmest chance to save her. Whether or not Riko fully comprehends it as being romantic, it's their love for each other that allows the both of them to keep going no matter what horrors they face. Nanachi's love for Midy is what kept her going, and while Midy stays in her thoughts once she's gone, it's the love she ends up sharing with Riko and Reg – but mostly Riko, on account of how she swings – that allows her to enjoy the adventure to the bottom that she always dreamed of. Likewise, love connects our heroes, however tenuously, to the friends they left behind and above, calling at least part of them – even the driven Riko – back up. But love is also exactly what makes it possible for them to face the abyss, to face death itself, head on. To endure the suffering that awaits, overcome its trials, and press forward through barriers that once seemed impassable. That, too, becomes more and more true the deeper one dives, and even in the throes of love, the call is always there, beckoning every cave raider to endanger, even sacrifice everything they hold dear, so that they might keep going down. The abyss tests and pushes the limits of love, and in doing so, reveals to those who brave its depths the truth about their love, and about themselves. Perhaps even more than the great mystery, more than the personal accomplishment of having bested the thing, it's the potential for those personal discoveries that really drives raiders forward. And downward. I've said perhaps a lot in this video, and asked far more questions than I've answered. That's just what it means to seek the hidden depths of the abyss. There is meaning to be found down there, a small portion of it clear to see, infinitely more obscured and inscrutable. It is a world, an adventure, an idea that begs to be understood and defies understanding. There's not much about it that I can say with any certainty, but I am certain about one thing. I can't stop ******* thinking about it. I didn't even think I liked Maiden Abyss all that much more than other anime the first time I watched it, yet I've rewatched it more times than any show that I thought was my favourite of 2017. I've begun plunging into the manga, too, despite promising myself that I'd wait for the anime to continue before I did. Because I need to see more. I need to know what lies at the bottom. Why it's there. What it means. What it wants from me. And you've reached the end of this video, because you do, too. You don't need to be in Orth, or even in this world, to feel the abyss's call. But if we were in that world, you and I both know where we'd be going. Down.