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Have you ever seen something so terrible that it made you feel awe? Like watching two cars collide, but you see it as a sculpture of twisted steel being built right before your eyes. That's how it feels to watch Moekan. I would warn you that this review will contain spoilers, but it's actually impossible to spoil Moekan, for reasons I'll explain later.

Make no mistake, Moekan IS an awful show. The story is insipid, the characters are bland cutouts, the action is stupid, the romance is forced, the pacing is dreadful, even the OP and ED are sung off-key – there's not a single good ... quality to be found in this garbage heap. But somehow all these horrible elements, when mixed together and given that special KSS touch, become something truly magical. You see, saying this show makes no sense would actually be an ignorant statement. The writers of Moekan have actually created their own special kind of logic, one that only applies to this world. We are simply observing another reality, one where our own expectations have no place. Things happen which should not happen, yet we have no choice but to accept their happening. This is a world where androids are created to be maids, then trained to be soldiers. Rinia is an old combat model who has been reassigned as a maid, and her reason for coming to Maidland is to learn the art of combat. One maid is a member of 80s rock group “Alice in Chains,” yet this is never mentioned again. We know nothing about the country where this takes place, or the company that builds these killer robots, or what goes on in this mansion where every episode happens, yet we know that one of these androids has to eat and pee. A crippled man breaks his leg catching an android who wouldn't be harmed from a fall, yet the action of catching her seems to heal his leg. Two nameless bad guys want to shoot people who are on a cliff above them, so they activate their shoe rockets and fly up above their targets. Sexroids. The company is tired of all the assassination attempts made against one of their employees, so their solution is to assassinate that employee. There is no cause or effect, rather things happen and then unhappen. It's anti-plot. You can add “for no reason” to literally any scene description and it would fit. It's completely baffling, and yet it's obvious that every bit was intentional. Nothing accidentally makes sense, any possible plot thread is plotholed with expert accuracy. The creators of Moekan set out to create Moekan, and in that regard they succeeded admirably.

The pacing of this disaster deserves special mention. Every episode feels like a recap episode, where you're shown things for just long enough to jog your memory since you've already seen it before. Except you've never seen it before. You see, the animators who worked on Moekan the Animation didn't want to do any animating, so they gave us the crib notes instead of the whole thing. The show moves lightning fast, yet perplexingly it also moves glacially slow. Did you know that Rinia is dumb? Surely the last 20 minutes devoted to showing how dumb Rinia is did nothing to alert you to that fact, so here's another scene showing that she's dumb. She also has a Super Saiyan mode, but that's not important, better get back to the dumb stuff. Kazusa is killing people who are trying to kill Takehito because ??? but then she wasn't actually killing people until she kills people. Also she's afraid of dogs until she's held down and traumatized by a dog until she falls in love with it. It's impossible to determine when something is supposed to be happening, almost like there is never a “before” or “after.” If anything was ever elaborated upon, then it might have crossed the line back into an attempt at sensible human entertainment, but that would involve suffering through more Moekan. As it is, the show is in an uneasy equilibrium where the smallest cut or addition would have an incalculable effect. Too much, and it would be impossible to force yourself through this ordeal. Too little, and it would no longer qualify as an actual narrative.

My favorite part of this whole experience is actually the lead girl's hair-hands. Rinia's “Rinia Hand” Hands (リニアハンド rinia hando) are such a unique idea that I'm actually impressed by their existence, yet they end up being utterly pointless. Despite having two fully functional pairs of arms, Rinia never uses them for anything that she couldn't use her non-hair hands for. She only uses them for such exotic tasks as opening doors and trying to lift boxes. At least Melona actually DOES something with her hair/goo hands, however lewd it may be. In fact, Rinia has the perfect opportunity to cover herself with them in the first episode, yet she uses them to pull up her blanket instead. That's what people with normal hands do! On top of all this, no one even notices that these alien appendages exist! They're so unique that they become completely normal, which fits in with the whole bizarro world logic going on everywhere else.

Moekan is not diamond in the rough, it's a rough in the diamond. If you like bad anime, it may be worth your time to study this and learn just what makes something truly bad. Become a scholar of crappy shows, and judge them against a proper metric. If you're looking for genuine entertainment, leave now, there's none to be had here. Here there be Moekan, wary traveler. Tread lightly.

Yowamushi Pedal is not a good show. It's a standard, predictable shounen sports series that does nothing memorable or exciting. Every conflict in the story is caused by not having enough pride in your team, and every conflict is resolved by having more pride in your team. The characters all fit neatly into their pre-determined stereotypes, and nothing really changes between the start of the show and the last end card. But this show does excel in one area, and that is copious amounts of balls-to-the-wall MANSERVICE.

Now, I don't claim to be an expert on the admiration of the male physique. I like my ladies ... more than I like my guys, which is why I lean towards shows like Highschool DxD more than Free. But I started this show with no idea what I was getting myself into, and for the first, oh, 10 episodes it was a so-so show about bicycles. Then it started happening. The outfits got tighter, the shorts got shorter, and the amount of screen real estate taken up by sweaty butts increased dramatically. I was bewildered by this sudden turn. “Truly,” thought I, “these camera angles are those reserved for fanservice shots, but there is nary a panty to be seen!” It wasn't until 2 episodes before the show ended that I finally had a complete conception of what I was seeing. It was a shot of two cyclists crossing the finish line, one positioned triumphantly behind the other with his arms held to the sky, hips thrust proudly into the rear of the one in front. The loser was wide-eyed at this sudden shock, overcome with the realization that the winner had completely taken him by surprise. It was then that I knew just how far from home I had come.

Yowamushi Pedal is a show built entirely on a foundation of manliness. You're apt to see so many sweaty, panting men with their firm butts thrust high in the air, grasping at each other and fighting for dominance, that you'll never want for another slash fic again. There is a veritable smorgasbord of masculinity on display for any tastes you might have. Do you fancy the stoic leader type? Take your pick from any of the team leaders. Do you prefer a foul-mouthed lone wolf who secretly cares deeply for his friends? You got it. Want a tall, awkward guy with a big heart? Well, you're getting one anyway. The dogged nice guy with a dark and troubled past even makes an appearance. Like your guys with a more bishounen appeal? Here's a fun activity: count all the female cyclists you see on the character page. Done? Those are all guys. Do you love big beefy bros? There's not one, but TWO massive mountains of man-meat here, one of which even names his muscles for easy reference in fan fics. “Oh Arakita-san, please rub lotion on my Andy...” Like long, spindly guys with no bones and a sociopathic hatred of humans? You may want to talk to someone about that, but in the meantime, enjoy Yowamushi Pedal! No matter your preference, this show's got you covered.

Should you watch Yowamushi Pedal? If you've read this far, you should already know the answer to that. If you like men's butts and you cannot lie, pick this one up and tough out the first two arcs. You will be richly rewarded. If you just want to watch a by-the-numbers shounen then by all means, pick this up as well. But if you're not in the mood for manservice and you don't want to see something that insults your intelligence, then give Yowamushi Pedal a pass. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go marathon Seikon no Qwaser to reaffirm my sexuality.

Do you like watching things happen? Think carefully about this question. Watching anime is essentially seeing a sequence of events set to music and sound. Under this definition, there could conceivably be an anime about anything, even grass growing. The reason this hasn't happened yet is because no one would care. Sure, things are happening, but why does that matter to you? You could go outside right now and see grass grow, or you could watch something you care more about, so watching Grass-chan Adventures is understandably low on your priority list. But why is that? Why do you care about some things more than ... others, even though both things are equally happening? The answer is emotional investment.

Bayonetta has a lot of things happening at any given time. Guns get shot, monsters get killed, poses get posed, one-liners get tossed around, there's never a moment when things aren't happening. But much like our kawaii Grass-chan, you're never given a reason to care. Why is Bayonetta killing angels? Why are angels killing everyone? Why are some people ghosts sometimes? Why is God evil? What was with that car? Why did Jeanne shoot all those people on that train, and why was Bayonetta there? Where was she going? Where was she ever going? Why did anything happen at all? For an hour and thirty minutes, things are happening, but these questions are never answered. The bad guy is trying to revive the biggest bad guy for... some reason? Is it God? Shouldn't people be stoked to hear that God is coming to Earth? You're never told what the stakes are, so you never care why Bayonetta's fighting. You never see her struggle, so you have no reason to care when she succeeds. You never see her in any danger of losing, so seeing her win becomes meaningless. It just turns into a sequence of events. Bayonetta beats this bad guy, so now she's going to fight this other bad guy, and she's going to win but we're not quite there yet. There's nothing to think about, no surprises, no doubt, no reason to keep watching these things happening. It's just grass growing.

I haven't played the game that Bayonetta is based on, so I don't know how this adaption compares to the original. But I know immediately where all the emotional investment went. When you play a game, you supply the emotion. Just making progress gives you a reason to care, since you've now invested your time towards beating the game. You learn the price of failure if you die, which adds excitement to the fights as you try to avoid that same failure. You learn the capabilities of your character, what she can and can't do, and you add your own skill in order to overcome the obstacles presented to you. Just playing the game is enough to make you care. The story and cutscenes are nice rewards for your progress, but the goal is progress itself. This is why a straight adaption just doesn't work. There's no inherent difficulty in watching anime (except for downloading codecs and stuff, but you get the point). Once you start watching, you won't fail and have to start over if you don't beat the boss. Your skill has no bearing on whether or not the protagonist succeeds. You have no control over how or why things happen, so you need another reason to invest your time. You can't help the main character fight, but you can still care if they win or lose if you're given a good enough reason. Bayonetta just doesn't give you a reason.

Bayonetta isn't ALL bad. Norio Goddamn Wakamoto voices one of the leads, which makes absolutely any show better (see Wizard Barristers for an example). The art is good, if you've ever seen a Madhouse production it looks exactly like that style. Bayonetta has some killer tits. Beyond that, it's hard to think of any other positive points.

Should you watch Grass-chan Adventures? Maybe, if it ever comes out. You'd probably feel the same way watching Bayonetta. Should you watch Bayonetta? Not really. The only thing this movie really has going for it is the action, which is just bland and predictable. The story is a jumbled mess, the characters are boring, and the things that happen just aren't interesting. Your time would be better spent watching something else.

Complete Review Mark II: The Revenge: Special Edition Part 2 Final Version

There's a certain subset of anime fans who savor bad experiences. Those who pick up what sensible watchers drop just to see how bad things can get. Those who seek out “classics” like Skelter Heaven and M.D. Geist to deepen their knowledge of bad shows. Those who came back to Galilei Donna week after week to see if it could sink any lower. For these people, Samurai Flamenco is a godsend. Samumenco isn't just bad, it's transcendentally bad. It's beyond mere words like “horrible” and “awful.” It's a special, painful kind of bad, like ... if someone kidnapped your family and sent you pictures of their torture every week.

Samumenco's badness comes as a result of intensive study into why shows fail. Thousands of man hours were spent dissecting specimens like Mars of Destruction to find out why they are so bad, to extract their badness essence. Along the way, Manglobe's mad scientists discovered that there was a key element missing in even the worst of the worst, something that could propel mankind into new depths of disappointment. See, there have been shows that started off good before betraying the audience. Guilty Crown disguised itself as a shounen action series before melting into a boring mess. Valvrave seemed like a classic mecha before dropping every single cliché known to man. Shows like these all have an interesting premise as the bait, and once you're hooked, they drag you lower and lower until the final episode sets you free. They leave you bitter and jaded, thinking that you'll never fall for that trick again. Then you fire up Blazblue, and the cycle starts again. Samumenco's greatest accomplishment is that they manage to compress this cycle of excitement and despair into one show, filling you with years of disappointment in only a few months. The key ingredient that made this advancement possible? Hope.

With the average bad show, once it starts going downhill, that's it. It's jumped the shark, passed the point of no return, all you can do is hang on and watch things burn. But Samumenco is not the average bad show. Samumenco offers you a tiny sliver of hope, it promises that things can get better, things can be good again, you just have to believe that the bad times will pass. Then it smashes those hopes into dust and snorts them right in front of you, laughing maniacally the whole time, before giving you another grain of hope, seriously for real this time guys cross-my-heart-hope-to-die. And like a whipped dog you come crawling back time after time, praying that the pain will end, praying that you can have fun again. But you can't. You can never go back. The Kick-Ass style anime you fell in love with is dead, and you're being pummeled with its corpse. Things have gone far beyond what anyone ever thought possible, far beyond anyone's ability to control it. Samumenco deconstructs ideas, then parodies them, then becomes them, then parodies itself. Is it a realistic view of superheroes? Or a critical stab at the superhero genre? Or an homage to a simpler time? Or even a political parody? Is it all just one big joke? The answer is no, to all of those. It doesn't just jump the shark, it turns around to jump the whole aquarium.

It's impossible to truly describe the feelings you'll experience from Samumenco. The ending brings no solace, only pain and bitterness, mocking you for being dumb enough to watch all 22 episodes. So heed this warning, bad anime pilgrim. It's all fun and games until you Flamenco.

Rideback has perhaps the greatest drop in overall quality that I've ever seen. It starts out on the highest highs with a masterfully crafted first episode, then it slides down on the next two, still a great show with a great premise but not quite living up to the opening. Then the fourth episode drops, and the whole series falls off a cliff. From then on we get to watch our promising mech-racing show drown under all the needless drama and shoehorned war stories that nobody wanted to see. Rideback draws you in with the promise of an engaging, introspective sports series full of potentially ... great characters, then leaves you with a half-assed Gundam story and bitterness.

The first episode of Rideback is a masterpiece. If that was the only episode ever made, I'd give it a 10/10 and lament the fact that we never got to see such an amazing story told in its entirety. Rin Ogata is a ballet prodigy whose career is cut short by an on-stage accident in high school. Though she recovers, Rin is no longer able to dance at the same level and is forced to give up the greatest love of her life. The themes of this episode are constantly and expertly reinforced by the visuals and settings. Rin's post-accident life is shown in drab, gray tones. Her graduation from high school is a lonely, solemn affair. She slowly walks out with her head down, thrust into the outside world with no direction and no motivation. Her one friend rushes to her side, but is unable to cheer her up, as the camera pulls far away and cherry blossoms fall over the screen like tears. College initially seems like a second chance, but she is hounded by memories of her past, tormented by her well-meaning fan, a constant reminder of her happy life snatched away by fate. When Rin reaches her lowest point, she's caught alone in a rainstorm and forced to hide in an unfamiliar garage. There, she finds her salvation in the form of a Rideback. The feeling of exhilaration from her first Rideback outing is hammered home by the shot of her flying high over the city, sun beaming in the distance, the colors dancing across the screen, life flooding back into her face as her passion is rekindled. The combination of story, themes, visuals, and sound is nothing short of pure art, and would have earned a place in every anime fan's heart, if only the rest of the series had reached the lofty goal set by the opening.

The next few episodes are less inspired, but still lay a solid foundation for a 12 episode series to build on. Rin's talent as a dancer gives her a leg up in the Rideback world, with her unique sense of balance and movement occasionally translating into expert level racing maneuvers. Tamayo is initally presented with an awful lot of depth. She's both a rival and a mentor to Rin, simultaneously frustrated at Rin's seemingly flippant attitude about Ridebacks while also wanting to nurture a natural talent. Hishida is a dorky outcast with an endless love for Ridebacks, providing a visual metaphor for the public's distrust and disgust towards Ridebacks. The rest of the Rideback club are all shown as unique individuals with various personality hooks that could be fleshed out later on. Rideback racing itself shows hints of some great new concepts for a racing anime. Ridebacks can go essentially anywhere on land, teasing the audience with the idea of never before seen settings for races. The combat in the first (and only) major race shows us that there's much more to Rideback strategy than we've seen, and that we can expect a twist at any time during a race. The stage is set for a fresh, exciting racing series with a well-rounded cast.

Then the fourth episode hits. It hits hard, with guns and bombs and military Ridebacks. It knocks down everything you've seen built up, derails the entire story, and rips the focus away from Rin and her personal redemption. Instead of watching Rin further her budding racing career while learning to enjoy life again, we're instead suddenly given a ragtag rebel group fighting against a big oppressive empire. Rin's friends change from a quirky racing team to terrorist liberators. Everything you learned to care about is callously tossed aside in favor of a color-by-numbers military plot. None of the original themes are ever explored again. Despite Rin's efforts (and many times because of them), Ridebacks are overall presented both in-universe and out as tools of war and not as racing vehicles, again robbing Rin of her purpose in life. Rideback racing is outlawed and heavily policed, eliminating the chance for even clandestine nighttime Rideback touge with drifting and eurobeat. Tamayo's conflict with her father goes nowhere, same with the rest of the cast, and the whole “racing to win popular support” side of the story is torpedoed. All of the careful foreshadowing and subtle metaphor is abandoned so Rin can have a conversation with a guy while Rideback waltzing in the middle of a firefight, and it's sadly as silly as it sounds. Rideback plummets from its high standards like a bird with clipped wings. If the whole show had been like this then it wouldn't be so painful; Rideback could just be tossed on the heap of other boring rebellion stories. But the initial impression and betrayal are so powerful and unforgettable that it's impossible to separate those bitter feelings from the overall show as it is presented.

Rideback hurt me. It gave me the best first episode I've ever seen, and tarnished that memory by piling disappointment on top of cliches. It gave me a wonderful story of personal redemption before smothering it with a forgettable, aimless and messy rebellion. It gave me an exciting spin on racing that could never have been done elsewhere before mercilessly cutting it out forever. It gave me a reason to always doubt my first impressions. And it gave me a reason to warn you, before Rideback hurts you too.

Kyou no Asuka Show is, in its entirety, a metaphor for a woman: You're drawn in by a pretty face and a panty shot, but you stay for the downtempo meditations on life and society. Or maybe you just stay for more panties. Either way, you're sure to be entertained, even if you stop listening after a while.

Kyou no Asuka Show is about a girl named Asuka Kyou No... Show. Wait. Kyou no Asuka Girl is about a show named, wait, hold on. Kyoukai Senjou No H- no, no, one more time. Today's Asuka Show stars Asuka, a stunningly beautiful girl with absolutely no common ... sense. Asuka goes through her totally normal life doing nothing interesting whatsoever besides occasionally getting hit on. The end. Unfortunately for Asuka, any brief summary of her show makes it sound like either a boring waste of time or mindless wank fodder. Fortunately for you, curious reader, the show is neither of those, instead being an easy going slice-of-life with an easy-on-the-eyes lead female.

There is fanservice, for sure, but only three or four episodes have it as the main focus. Of course, these episodes are all at the beginning, which ends up giving prospective viewers (and whoever wrote the synopsis) the wrong idea. Later episodes feature mostly comedy segments starring Asuka and her dad, or solo episodes that feature Asuka making silent observations and stumbling onto some surprisingly profound conclusions like a hot girl Buddha. While these revelations won't change your life, they'll at least make you nod your head. Much of the more serious, think-y aspects of the show are hard to notice if you're just staring at Asuka's hotness. There's a lot of unspoken subtext which warrants either one careful viewing or a second watch, a small order considering the short runtime.

I don't personally feel that the short length of the series hurts or harms it. After all, every show ends eventually (except Bleach), and a quality story remains quality regardless of how long it takes to tell. That said, you might look at the run time as a benefit if you're not sure about watching the whole thing. It's not hard to devote 30 minutes to a show if you would normally watch an episode of something else in that time. You could also blow through an episode or two whenever you have a few minutes to kill. However you decide to watch it, at least give it more than the standard three episode test, else you'll think the show is just about Asuka deepthroating ice-cream.

Even with no time for the characters to develop, everyone in Kyou no Asuka Show is presented as a fully fledged, self-aware human being. Asuka seems comically oblivious at times, but her quiet ponderings reveal that she's just so caught up in her fascination with the rest of the world that she forgets about her own presence within it. A space case on the outside, an introverted people watcher on the inside. Asuka's dad has realistic concerns for his daughter as she begins to mature into a woman, concerns which are compounded by his job in an industry that he desperately wants to keep Asuka from. Even the dude at the bus stop is a well-rounded, engaging person. He acts like any average guy would if he saw a cute girl with gum stuck to her butt. Do I say something at the risk of letting her know I was staring at her? If I try to pull it off, could I cop a quick feel and still get out alive? Is there any way I can use this situation to strike up a conversation later? What does it say about this girl that she sat on gum who-knows-how-long ago and still hasn't noticed? These are all questions that any reasonable man would ask in that situation, and bus stop dude implicitly asks them all. Kudos to the writer for taking such simple, fluffy interactions and wringing real humanity out from them.

If you like boobs and thinking, maybe even both at the same time, then you'll find something to like in Kyou no Asuka Show.

Do you like breasts? Of course you do, you wouldn't be watching anime if you didn't. Do you like wrestling? Doesn't matter, have some more breasts.

Sekai De Ichiban Tsuyoku Naritai (Sekatsuyo for short) is a story about breasts. Sentient breasts with butts attached for panty shots. Two pairs of terrific titties stop by to watch other bodacious boobies bounce around in a wrestling ring. One pair of breasts gets rankled and gives a dropkick to another pair, setting off a string of wacky adventures in the world of foxy wrestling.

Sakura, the main character, has her personality summed up entirely in the show's title (spoiler: she ... wants to be the strongest in the world). The others have about as much depth as they do cleavage. There's the mean one, the wise one, the spunky one, the rival, the big shot, and a bunch of others who exist just to fill space (and bras). But who watches fanservice shows for the compelling characters? How about some compelling coconuts, right!? Unfortunately, Sekatsuyo falls short on this as well. There are roughly three kinds of shots throughout the series: close-ups of boobs, close-ups of butts, and close-ups of Sakura twisted up like a pretzel moaning in agony(?). These staple shots are repeated over and over in every episode, sometimes with differently colored boobs and butts, but always with lots and lots of moaning. Seriously, you could just listen to a clip of Sakura shouting “ITAIIII” and skip the first three episodes (which would vastly improve the pacing, more on that later). Don't get me wrong, I love fanservice, and I love breasts, but I also love a little variety. Couldn't we have had a wardrobe malfunction, or some shower shenanigans, or drunken skinship, or a hot springs episode, or ANYTHING to break up the “ITAIIII” monotony? The answer is no, we can't, not until the blu-ray specials at least. Oh well, even if the fanservice is a bit disappointing, at least the action is entertaining, right?

Let's take a minute to actually look at the wrestling presented in Sekatsuyo. Don't worry, we'll get back to the breasts soon enough. Sekatsuyo can't seem to decide if its wrestling is fake or real. On one breast, the characters seem take an inhuman amount of punishment in the ring, but there's never any mention of some supernatural wrestling powers or fighting spirit or any of that. Later on, Sakura compliments another character not on her athletic ability, but for going easy on Sakura to ensure the match is entertaining for the audience. On top of this, the animators went to great lengths to make sure all the moves were performed “safely.” For example, whenever someone takes a piledriver, the piledrivee's head is always clearly tucked in the other girl's thighs, safely away from any contact with the ground. Considering how bad the animation can get elsewhere in the show, I'm positive that the moves were intentionally and consistently shown this way as a reminder that these girls aren't really trying bust each other's boobies. So it's all fake, right?

Not so fast. On the other side of the breast, the characters all seem deathly serious about the various plotlines they get involved in. The show spends an awful lot of time backstage and out of the ring, and not once do we hear any of the characters talk about storylines or planned finishes or any of the “worked” aspects of wrestling. At one point, a masked villainess begins ambushing the other breastlers, and everyone seems genuinely surprised by this unscripted turn of events, even when there's no audience around or any other reason for them to fake surprise. Even in the ring, things get a bit blurry. Despite the moves being obviously safe, the characters still seem to get injured, and even comment on their own status in their thoughts, and try to think of strategies for legitimately beating their opponents. At one point in a match, Sakura's leg is nearly broken by an opponent who is hellbent on ending her career, which hampers her wrestling acumen later in the fight (don't worry though, her breasts are fine). If this was fake, then why would she think privately about how much it hurts and how to work around the injury? If it was real, then why would she risk hurting herself even more doing lots of outlandish flips and throws that wouldn't work without a willing partner? Sekatsuyo can't decide, so it just throws lots of boobs at your face and hopes you won't think too much.

The worst problem with Sekatsuyo, even more so than the same-y fanservice and the hard-to-follow action, is the first three episodes. As in, the ENTIRETY of the first three episodes. There's about 10 minutes of set-up for the plot at the beginning, then nothing but Sakura losing over and over and over and over until you start to wonder why you're wasting your time with this show. Even her fans in-universe give up on the show for the same reason, almost like the producers are saying “it's fine drop this and watch something else.” It's hard to describe the unbearable monotone of these episodes; Sakura loses the same way while shouting the same way as her fans shuffle out the same way. Imagine if Haruhi started with Endless Eight, except there's not even any paranormal explanation. It's really just the same thing over and over and everyone hates it, real or fictional. The show thankfully improves after this, but it's a very high hurdle to jump over for new watchers, and the payoff is still not that great.

If you want to see anime breasts, you can do better than Sekatsuyo. You're on the internet, after all. If you want to see anime breasts wrestling, well, I'm not sure you really can do better at the moment. Wrestling is a very niche topic in anime (the only other example I can think of is Kinnikuman, which is pretty much the opposite of breasts), and shows like this aren't likely to inspire a stampede of copycats. You'll just have to make do with MMA or something in the meantime. Overall, there are worse ways to spend your time than watching Sekatsuyo, and plenty of better ways, but if you want some boobs and don't want to think, then go for it. You have no one to blame but yourself.

Cosprayers is legendary among anime fans for setting a standard by which other anime are judged. By which I mean it's garbage. When describing terrible shows, the phrase “at least it's not as bad as Cosprayers” will often come up. Future generations will study it as a an example of just how wrong things can go at every step, from planning to production. It cannot be said enough that Cosprayers is bad. However, the Cosprayers specials manage to do something incredible – they manage to make the formula work. The basic premise of a magical girl trying to fight monsters and failing in hilarious ways ... still drives the show, but that plot functions a lot better in a comedy rather than a drama. It's still far from a masterpiece, but the result is much better than what anyone should expect (and better than anyone seems to give it credit for, considering the score, but that's understandable considering the source material).

To explain why the specials are actually good requires an explanation of why Cosprayers is bad. Watching Cosprayers straight through from beginning to end makes it painfully obvious that huge cuts were made without the story being changed to compensate. The characters never develop beyond costume changes, the scenes progress in a way that make no sense (like when two of the girls start fighting with tennis rackets immediately after escaping from prison for no reason), ultimately nothing is ever explained and the audience is left frustrated and confused. Watching the specials straight through by themselves leaves one with the opposite feeling. The situation is established within the first few minutes, followed by the characters acting reasonably and in-character before the resolution comes and wraps everything up in a nice complete package. The stories, barebones as they are, are given enough time to develop. The jokes, which consistently fell flat in the original series, actually have setups and punchlines, drastically improving their delivery. Everything is less compressed, and the audience is given enough time to process what's going on before the story moves forward.

There's still fanservice, which is the second most memorable thing about Cosprayers, but it's used mostly for comedy rather than (unsettling and repulsive) titillation. Take the hot springs episode for example. The majority of the story is just our heroine running around in a towel, trying to protect her modesty while being chased by the monster of the week. In the original Cosprayers, this scenario would lead to some too long scenes of very uncomfortable, rape-y violence before some overly complicated plot-twist rushes everything to an unsatisfying conclusion. While the special still has plenty of not-quite-naked shots, it's instead done with a large dose of slapstick and a simple, straightforward story. The heroine summons up the courage to defeat the bad guy, and it turns out the whole thing was set up to give her some confidence in her abilities. That's it, same as we've seen a thousand times before. No rainbows, no power of friendship, no timelords, no reality warping, just a plain, cliché, twist-averse story. Even Cosprayers can accomplish something this simple.

When judged in a vacuum, the Cosprayers specials are a competent, tolerable, all-around totally ok set of OVAs which should not rouse too much hatred. I'd even bet that someone who knew nothing about the series might even like the specials on their own merit. Unfortunately, they will forever be marred by their association with one of the worst tragedies ever to befall anime fans. Which is a shame, but not anything to lose sleep over. While this show won't completely rock your perception of the medium, it will entertain you if you give it the chance. Faint praise, I know, but at least it's not as bad as Cosprayers.