Folks my age came up on a meaner version of this franchise. Early on it was all World War II. Mud, bolt rifles, brothers hollering over artillery while you crawled toward some bombed out farmhouse. Then 2007 arrived and busted the whole thing wide open. Modern Warfare dropped you into a present that felt uncomfortably close to the evening news. Two years later, Modern Warfare 2 gave us that one mission, the airport, the one plenty of us won’t bring up at the function. You walk through, the room goes silent, and grown folks argued about it for a decade. Love it or despise it, you cannot call it lazy. Somebody sat in a chair and decided that moment should turn your stomach on purpose.

That was the magic, if I’m being real with you. Not the guns. The seriousness.

Black Ops carried that same torch. Reznov whispering in your ear, the numbers, the cold paranoia of men who’d done terrible things for flags that never loved them back. Woods and Mason felt like characters, not inventory. You finished those campaigns a little hushed, sitting in the dark thinking. A shooter made you think. Wild, right? My cousins and me would stay up after, dissecting endings like we’d just walked out of a Spike Lee joint.

And then the model flipped on us.

Online play turned the whole thing into a nation of its own. The lobbies became a culture. Prestige grind, sweaty headset wars, somebody’s little brother screaming, beef getting settled across the map at two in the morning. For a lot of us, that was the hangout when there was nowhere else to be. The franchise didn’t just sell campaigns anymore. It sold a place to live.

Warzone landed in 2020 and the business changed shape again. Free to download, always running, a battle pass ticking away in the corner, a shop that refreshed on a schedule. Season after season now, each one a fresh page of stuff to buy, grind, or miss. Activision figured out that the story wasn’t the engine anymore. The engine was the wardrobe.

And that wardrobe got loud.

Somewhere along the line the battlefield turned into a costume party. Nicki Minaj rolled through in full pink as Red Ruby Da Sleeze, with a matching whip you could drive across the map. Snoop slid back in. 21 Savage too. They stamped it as a hip hop celebration, fifty years deep, and honestly the Doggfather I’ll allow, since the man’s been gaming royalty forever. But the floodgates were already gone by then. Shredder from the Turtles. Messi in his cleats. Cheech and Chong. Seth Rogen, so you could finally hotbox a Humvee in the middle of a firefight. Beavis and Butt Head. A giant porcelain murder doll from Squid Game stomping around the map like it pays rent. Lucy and The Ghoul from Fallout turning the classic Nuketown into a radioactive vault.

There’s a strange double feeling watching the culture show up like that. Part of me lit up seeing hip hop finally treated like it belonged in the biggest shooter on the planet. Another part of me clocked that it arrived wearing a price tag. The art that raised me, packaged and rotated through a store window beside cartoon ghosts and movie monsters.

You want the deluxe version of the season, that’s BlackCell, extra operators and shinier blueprints stacked on top of the normal pass. A bundle runs you around twenty dollars. An event pass, ten. Multiply that by a roster of celebrity guests cycling in and out forever and you start to see what this whole apparatus really is now. Not a beloved series of titles. A storefront with a shooter bolted onto the front.

And the rotation is the hook. The shop doesn’t sit there politely waiting on you. It blinks, it counts down, it whispers that the outfit you been eyeing leaves in three days and might never return. That pressure rewires how you play. You quit logging in to enjoy yourself and start logging in to keep pace. Chase the tier. Catch the limited bundle before the clock empties. Grind a challenge so your sixty dollar purchase doesn’t sit there gathering dust. I caught myself one night doing busywork in a mode I didn’t even like, just to nudge a progress bar forward, and I had to set the controller down and ask exactly who I was working for. Couch era, I played because it was fun. Now the fun arrives with a quota.

Now here’s where I gotta play fair, because the old head in me wants to holler at clouds and the gamer in me knows better than that.

Some of these mashups absolutely slap. The Squid Game collab came with a real mode, that Red Light Green Light tension where you freeze and pray nobody clocks your movement. Wasn’t a lazy reskin. That was somebody having fun with the medium. And there’s an argument, a decent one, that the absurdity is the entire point. A war sim was always a fantasy anyway. Watching Nicki posted up next to a dude in a John McClane tank top on some Cold War rooftop is so stupid it loops back around to joyful. The dissonance becomes its own flavor of fun.

Plenty of younger players came up after the grounded years and don’t mourn them at all. To them this was always a playground, bright and chaotic and theirs. That’s fair. The thing was never built for me alone. Kids deserve their goofy. I’m not trying to gatekeep somebody’s good time.

But something did get traded, and I won’t pretend otherwise.

When everything is for sale, nothing carries weight. That airport mission worked because the series respected silence. It understood when to stop entertaining you. Compare that to a present where the loudest detail about a new release is which star is dropping into the shop next, what neon outfit glows when you rack up a kill streak, how many tiers you gotta climb before the pass pays itself off. The campaign, the part that used to leave me quiet on the couch, is basically a garnish now. A little appetizer before the real meal, which is the spending.

Even the competition is throwing shade. When the Battlefield people went around saying their soldiers would stay grounded, that they didn’t need a Nicki Minaj situation, everybody on earth knew exactly who they were subtweeting. The market itself started treating restraint like a selling point again. That alone tells you how far the pendulum swung.

So did the franchise forget what made it great? I been chewing on this for a minute, and I don’t think forgot is the honest word. Forgetting is an accident. This was a decision. Activision remembers precisely what it had. It looked at a grim, weighty, story driven war series on one side and a glittering machine that prints cash four seasons a year on the other, and it reached for the machine. The receipts proved the math out. Hard to call a billion dollar choice dumb.

Great and profitable were never the same word though.

What made it special, for those of us who came up whisper yelling on a couch, was that it took itself seriously enough to make a shooter feel like it mattered. It treated us like we could handle something heavy. That version still flickers in there, buried in a mission here, a quiet beat there. You can feel the ghost of it moving through. Then a mascot in a green tracksuit sprints past swinging a minigun and the spell shatters in your hands.

I’m not even mad, not fully. I’m just an aging gamer who remembers when the wardrobe was empty and the story did the talking. My favorite thing grew up into a shopping mall. Loud, busy, lucrative, packed with people having an absolute ball. I’ll still load in. I’ll run with the homies and talk my noise. But every now and then I sit in that menu, scroll past the newest face for sale, and I quietly miss the one that knew how to make a grown man go still.

That version didn’t need a costume. It just had something to say.

Staff Writer; Jay Baker

An older blerd with a lifelong love for anime, comics, manga, and gaming… Writing for fans who still believe great stories can come from a screen, a page, or a controller… He can be contacted at JayBaker@AfroGamers.com.

Now peep where we landed. What turned a generation into builders and sweats grew into a shopping plaza with a battle bus parked out front. Hop on and you can play a Guitar Hero clone. Grind a Lego survival map. Race cars. Run a horror level where Darth Vader hunts you through a busted Star Destroyer. Or sink a whole afternoon into a factory sim whose entire reason for living is making little droids labor so your money counter ticks higher. Buried under all that noise, the original is still breathing. The question nobody at Epic wants to sit with too long is whether anybody can still hear it.

Let me be clear about one thing first. I love this game. Have loved it since the husk days, before the world even knew battle royale was about to become the genre that ate the decade. So this isn’t some old head hollering at the bus to slow down. This is love with its eyes open.

Here’s the tension. By every number that matters to a boardroom, the company is cooking. Concurrent players, revenue, cultural reach, the way one skin drop trends across every timeline for a day straight. Travis brought a planet to a virtual stage. Marvel turned the island into a crossover bigger than half the movies. Kids who’ve never touched a controller for anything else log in every single night. That’s a win. Loud, undeniable, money in the bank.

But thriving and staying yourself are two different prayers.

Watch what went down this spring and tell me the studio doesn’t feel the strain. Epic let go of around a thousand people. Right after, they removed Ballistic and the competitive stage of the music mode, while putting Rocket Racing on the chopping block for October. Years of work, whole teams, gone from the menu. For a place that spent the back half of the decade preaching the metaverse gospel, promising the island would become a platform where every genre lives forever, that retreat says plenty. The dream of being all things got expensive. It got messy. And a chunk of it simply wasn’t fun.

Then came the part that stopped me cold. Save the World, the original co op grind, the corner abandoned in early access for what felt like a geological age, finally went free. And it detonated. Player-tracked reports showed it crossing six figures almost overnight, with folks rushing back into a husk fight everybody supposedly forgot about. Read that twice. Strip the price tag off a piece that was actually a real one, with bones and a story, and people came running like it was a family reunion.

That ought to tell somebody at Epic something. Maybe it already has.

Because the trouble with becoming all things is that all things has no center. Walk a brand new player through what the island offers in 2026 and you can feel the vertigo set in. A rhythm game. A survival crafter. A tactical shooter that just died on the table. A racing playlist sitting on death row. A whole wave of Star Wars maps, a few genuinely impressive, one of them basically a Battlefront knockoff with capture points and a lightsaber if you earn it. Then the tycoons. Lord, the tycoons. Entire districts of the experience built around the same brain itch that powers Roblox, where children push a number higher while they hang out and talk, the actual playing almost beside the point. There’s a popular one floating around literally named Steal the Brainrot, and that title might be the most honest thing on the whole platform.

None of that is the heart. The heart was the build fight. The heart was that specific panic when the circle catches you in the open and you ramp rush a third party with eleven mats and a prayer. It was a thing you could describe to your cousin in a single breath and he’d get it instantly. Drop in, last one standing wins, build to survive. That clarity was the magic, and clarity is the first casualty when you bolt forty different worlds onto one launcher and call the result a universe.

I’m not mad at experimentation. A platform that never shifts goes stale and dies slow, and the studio understood that earlier and better than almost anybody in the business. The chapter resets, the live events, the absurd collabs, that engine of constant reinvention is half the reason this juggernaut outlived every copycat that came for the crown. PUBG, Apex, Warzone, all real, all good, not one of them turned itself into a stage where a stadium of people watched a concert together. Reinvention kept the lights blazing.

But there’s a version of reinvention that strengthens the core, and a version that just buries it under merchandise. Lately it leans toward the second one. When a curious newcomer loads up for the very first time and can’t even find the battle royale without scrolling past a droid factory and a karaoke stage, something has slipped loose. The front door turned into a flea market.

And here’s the quieter cost nobody puts in the earnings call. A whole generation is growing up thinking the island is mainly a place to hang out and grind numbers with friends, the way some of us grew up on a basketball court that happened to have a hoop on it. Cool. Beautiful, even. But ask one of those kids to describe the build fight that started all of this and you might get a blank stare. The thing that made the magic real for the rest of us is becoming a side quest in its own house.

Now the hopeful read, and I want to be fair here, is that the spring retreat looks a lot like the company finally clocking the same problem the rest of us clocked. Cut the playlists that flopped. Pour attention back into the core, into Zero Build, into Blitz and Reload and OG, the stuff that actually feels like what people fell for. Make the real one free and watch the crowd come home. If that’s the plan now, it’s the right plan. Stability over sprawl. Substance over a storefront with a hundred doors and nothing waiting behind most of them.

Whether they hold that line is the whole ballgame. Because the pull toward more is strong, and it pays. Tycoon maps print engagement. Brand deals print money. The metaverse pitch makes investors lean forward in a way a clean build fight never will. The temptation to keep stacking genres on the foundation until it cracks will be there every single quarter, dressed up as innovation, whispering that bigger is always better.

So my honest hope is this. That somebody in that building still remembers a title this old does not run on skins and crossovers and number go up loops. It runs on a feeling. That clutch when you’re the last one breathing and your hands won’t quit shaking. That sensation is the asset. The rest is decoration, and decoration is only worth something when there’s a real house standing underneath it.

So can Fortnite keep winning without losing itself? Maybe. The husk mode comeback and the nerve to cut dead weight tell me the people steering this still know where the pulse is. But knowing where it lives and actually protecting it are two separate jobs. You can top every chart on earth and still wake up one morning as a mall that used to be a game. The bus is still flying. I just hope whoever’s driving remembers what made all of us climb aboard in the first place.

Staff Writer; Jay Baker

An older blerd with a lifelong love for anime, comics, manga, and gaming… Writing for fans who still believe great stories can come from a screen, a page, or a controller… He can be contacted at JayBaker@AfroGamers.com.

Here’s what gets me though. Going home is supposed to feel like one emotion. Comfort, maybe. A warm blanket of stuff you already recognize. But this announcement hit me with two feelings at the exact same time, and they didn’t cancel each other out. One half of me felt that deep nostalgia pull, the kind that smells like a cracked PS2 disc and a summer with no responsibilities. The other half felt something newer and sharper, like I was standing at the start of a road I’d never driven. Both at once. That’s a hard trick to pull off, and I don’t think they lucked into it.

Let me rewind for the youngbloods who didn’t live through the original. Vice City came out in the fall of 2002, and it was basically a love letter to 1980s Miami filtered through Scarface and cocaine money and pastel suits. You played Tommy Vercetti, a man fresh out of prison trying to build an empire while pop ballads and synth tracks bled out your radio. That world was loud, gaudy, sun drunk, and absolutely iconic. For a lot of us it was the first open map that felt like a real place instead of a level. You could just exist in it. Ride a scooter at night with the lights smearing past and feel like it all belonged to you.

So when folks heard we were heading there, the assumption was simple. Cash in on the memories. Slap a fresh coat of paint on the same beach and let grown men cry about their childhood. And listen, that would have sold a hundred million copies anyway. Nobody would have blamed them for running it lazy. But that is not what they did.

This joint is set in the state of Leonida, which is their version of all Florida, not just the one glamorous strip. The old beach is in there, sure, dressed up prettier than anything we’ve ever seen on a console. Underneath all that polish though, the bones are different. We are not in 1986 anymore. The setting is dragged into the present, full of phone cameras and viral clout chasers and the kind of swampy, alligator filled backcountry that the original never even hinted at. They kept the soul of the place and swapped out the year, and that single decision is why the trip feels brand new instead of recycled.

Then there’s the people you ride with, which is honestly the part that flipped my whole perspective. For once the series hands you a duo. Lucia Caminos and Jason Duval, a couple deep in the kind of trouble that doesn’t come with an exit. The trailer shows Jason rolling up to collect Lucia the day she gets out of lockup, and right away you understand these two are not playing tourist in paradise. Rockstar straight up said the deck has always been stacked against them. They want a fresh start somewhere that mostly chews up regular folks and spits them out broke.

That framing matters to me more than the graphics ever could. Because Lucia is the first fully realized female lead in the modern GTA era, and they didn’t make her some side trophy or a damsel waiting on rescue. She is a lead. She is in the driver seat of her own mess. As somebody who grew up watching this series treat women like furniture and worse, seeing a Latina come home from a cell and immediately become the engine of the story does something for me. It signals that the studio knows the world changed under their feet, and they are at least trying to change with it.

You see what I mean about the two feelings now. The shell is pure nostalgia. The water, the palms, the heat shimmer, the way the radio is gonna scratch some forgotten itch the second a certain song plays. But everything living inside that shell is a clean break. New leads, a modern era, a bigger and stranger map, and a story about two broke people trying to claw out of a hole rather than a kingpin building a tower of yes men. They are using the familiar wrapping to sneak you somewhere you have not been.

I keep circling how rare that balance actually is in this business. Most sequels pick a lane. They either chase the past so hard they suffocate, terrified to change a single beloved detail, or they burn the whole house down and alienate the people who showed up out of love. Hardly anybody threads it. You either get the safe rerun or the reckless reboot. What Rockstar seems to be doing is using the memory as a doorway, not a destination, and that is a much braver swing than the marketing lets on.

The wait has been its own kind of comedy too. This game got announced, leaked, delayed, leaked again, delayed again, until the running joke was that everything in your life would happen before it actually came out. Babies born. Relationships ended. Entire console generations aged. And now it finally has a real date sitting on the calendar, November 19, 2026, dropping on the current boxes while the rest of us on PC wait in the cut like we always do. After all that buildup, the easy move would have been to give the crowd a comfortable hit of pure throwback. Instead they’re asking us to fall in love with something that only looks like the past from across the room.

There’s a deeper reason the formula works on me, and I think it’s about how memory actually functions. You can’t ever really go back. What you remember is gone, polished by time into something that never quite existed. So a true return is impossible. What you can do is revisit the feeling while letting the details move forward, which is exactly what this is. The version of that coast I loved as a kid lives in my head, untouchable. This one isn’t pretending to replace it. It’s a grown up echo, the same vibe wearing different clothes, talking about different problems, run by people who weren’t even in the picture last go.

I won’t front like I have zero worries. A studio with this much money and this much hype can fumble. The price tag is steep, the special editions are doing the most, and history has shown these companies will squeeze a dollar out of nostalgia until it begs for mercy. There’s every chance the online side becomes another grindy storefront. I’m holding my excitement with both eyes open. But the core idea, the bones of what they’re building, has me believing.

Because at its best, that is what a return is supposed to be. Not a copy of a thing you loved, frozen and dusty. A reunion with a place that grew up while you were gone, that has fresh stories and new faces and the same heartbeat thumping underneath. That coast made me fall for open worlds twenty years ago. Now it’s pulling me forward into a story I’ve never heard, told through eyes I’ve never looked through. Old enough to feel like home. New enough to feel like opening day. I don’t know how they did it, but I’m already in the car with the top down, waiting for the sun to come up.

So let me turn it over to you. You ready for this one, or did the long wait wear the hype down to a nub? Does that November date actually hold? Is eighty dollars and up fair pay for a decade of work, or a stickup in broad daylight? And could a game this hyped still land flat and bomb? I’ve got my hunches. Pull up in the comments and tell me where you stand.

Staff Writer; Jay Baker

An older blerd with a lifelong love for anime, comics, manga, and gaming… Writing for fans who still believe great stories can come from a screen, a page, or a controller… He can be contacted at JayBaker@AfroGamers.com.

Let me back up for anybody who only knows the green hair from a cosplay at the cookout. The story follows Izuku Midoriya, a boy born without a Quirk in a world where almost everybody has one. Powerless in a society built entirely around power. If you have ever been the one in the room without the obvious gift, the one who had to study twice as long and grind three times as hard just to earn a seat at the table, then you already understand why this character grabbed so many of us by the collar.

Midoriya does not get strong because the universe owed him anything. He inherits his ability from the closest thing his world has to a living legend, and from the first day he is breaking his own bones trying to live up to it. That image stuck with a lot of folks. A young dude shattering his fingers to hold onto a borrowed gift, scared to death he might waste it. Anybody who has carried somebody else’s hopes on their back felt that one land in the chest.

Here is what the closing stretch did so well, and why grown men were texting each other whole paragraphs at two in the morning. The series stopped pretending that saving people is ever clean. It leaned all the way into the cost. The mentor figure, All Might, spends the entire run pouring himself out until there is almost nothing left in the tank. He grins for the cameras while his body falls apart in private, because the public needs to believe somebody upstairs has it handled. Real ones recognized that picture instantly. That is every auntie holding a whole family together, every pops working doubles, every coach and teacher handing out strength they do not always have in reserve.

By the final arcs, the show asks a harder question than who wins the brawl. It asks what is left of a person after they give away everything they had. Midoriya does reach the mountaintop in the way his world needed. But the receipt is written in plain ink. The body breaks down. The borrowed power fades. The boy who once would have traded anything just to be special spends the back half learning that the cape costs far more than anybody mentioned at the start. The finale refuses to hand him a shiny prize and a sunset. It hands him a quieter peace instead, the kind you only reach after the bill has already been paid.

So why did this hit the younger crowd so hard in particular? Because they watched it grow up right alongside them. The first episodes dropped back in 2016, which means a twelve year old who pressed play then is a whole adult now with rent, a job, maybe a little one of their own. They did not simply watch a story unfold. They aged inside of it. When the credits rolled on that last episode, it was not just a cartoon wrapping up. It was a chapter of their own youth clicking shut, and that is a separate species of grief entirely.

There is also the plain truth of how massive the medium has become, and who is standing in the room now. More than seventy three million fan votes were cast this year, a number that buries every total that came before. Across recent Anime Awards shows, you have seen names like The Weeknd, RZA, Winston Duke, and Megan Thee Stallion step into the anime space without apology. The Black nerds who used to catch slick comments for loving this stuff are nowhere near the margins anymore. We helped build the center of it. Watching a coming of age tale about an overlooked underdog take the top honor, presented by an artist out of our own world, felt like a receipt for two decades of quiet devotion.

There is one more layer that lands different the older you get. The power at the center of it all gets passed from hand to hand, person to person, a literal chain of people choosing to give their strength to whoever comes next. That is the whole engine of the thing. A lineage. Each holder adds a little of themselves before handing the torch forward and stepping out of the way. Anybody raised by folks who poured into them so the next one could climb higher understands that math without needing a single subtitle.

The piece I keep chewing on is the promise baked right into the name. Being a hero is framed as a weight, never a flex. The show flat out refuses to sell the fantasy that doing right is easy, or that the powerful sleep soundly at night. Every act of rescue subtracts something from the one doing the rescuing. That is a heavy notion to hand a teenager, and yet teenagers are precisely the ones who needed to hear it, because they are the same kids being asked to carry their households, their blocks, and their futures, often with no special gift to lean on besides raw grit.

I think about my own little cousins watching this, the ones with big dreams and not a lot of cushion under them. A show told them, over years, that greatness is real and reachable, while never once lying about the toll. That is a rare and honest thing to put in front of a child. Most stories aimed at young people promise the glory and skip the invoice. This one made them sit with both.

When people ask why a Japanese cartoon about super powered students left a bunch of grown Black men misty during an awards broadcast, the answer is not complicated at all. We saw ourselves in the boy who had nothing and chose to give everything anyway. We saw our elders in the man who smiled clean through his own decline. We saw the price up close, and we recognized it on sight, because plenty of us are paying a version of that same bill right now.

The series earned its trophy, no question. More than that, it earned the long silence that follows the last frame, the one where you just sit there with a dark screen and let the whole thing settle into your bones. Ten years, one underdog, one borrowed gift, one heavy crown. That is what a legacy actually looks like. And the boy who started with empty hands ended up teaching an entire generation that the truest measure of a savior is never the strength itself, but what you are willing to lose in order to use it right.

Staff Writer; Jay Baker

An older blerd with a lifelong love for anime, comics, manga, and gaming… Writing for fans who still believe great stories can come from a screen, a page, or a controller… He can be contacted at JayBaker@AfroGamers.com.

Ranking Systems in the Imperial Palace

This goes back to Ancient China when emperors were permitted to take as many women to be their wives as they wanted – within the bounds of traditional rules and customs of course. The women who would enter the palace to wed the emperor were made to follow one of these traditional customs, which was the imperial concubine ranking system. This entailed them occupying a position that granted them a certain amount of comforts and power within the imperial palace. As simple as it sounds, there were factors that went into which rank a woman was placed in. To begin with, the emperor, their husband, was the one that ranked them and he did that by looking at how prominent a woman’s family background was, their ability to have children, and also whether they were talented enough to receive his favour – in other words, were they worth enough to receive his affection. Different Chinese dynasties had different ranking systems that were sometimes based on what the emperor at the time wanted.

Simplified, the ranking system consisted of the empress, the emperor’s main wife, consorts and concubines. In all these systems there would only ever be one empress. Other ranks could come and go, but she always remained. Nonetheless, the ranks of the imperial wives served different purposes but the predominant purpose was to maintain court dynamics. Which often spawned court and palace intrigue.

Is the Web novel any good?

To answer whether or not The Job of an Imperial Concubine is a good read: Yes, the web novel is a first-rate read. On the surface, it is well written, the characters are properly fleshed out and although it feels more slice of life, there is enough plot and drama to keep the reader wanting more. The protagonist of the web novel, Zhaung Laoyan, is the perfect definition of a go getter and a woman who strives to live comfortably and luxuriously – even if it means throwing her dignity away to make that happen.

Like a lot of Asian web novels out there, The Job of an Imperial Concubine is tagged as a transmigration story. Zhaung Laoyan, our female protagonist was an older woman working corporate as a PR manager before she passed away and found herself in the body of one of Emperor Feng Jin’s concubines in ancient China. The era can be described as a fictional version inspired by the real-world Han and Qing Dynasties. Throughout the coming chapters, Zhaung Laoyan is consistently bound by strict palace rules whilst being forced into the schemes of the emperor’s other wives. But what the story is unique in is its not so unique type of plot of how our female protagonist does not have a golden finger. What that means is, Zhaung Laoyan doesn’t have any special talent or skill that really distinguishes her from the other characters, besides being a transmigrator who is smart enough to survive the imperial palace’s treacherous schemes. In that way, she can be mistaken as a background character turned protagonist.

An interesting detail that makes the web novel a great read is how well Emperor Feng Jin doesn’t love any of his wives or at least is good at pretending he doesn’t love them. Anyone can find this type of character refreshing. Moreover, he constantly manipulates even the ones he cares just a little for, simply to maintain the systemic relationship the women of the harem are all meant to fit into. At any part of the novel, whenever you read from his perspective, there is an involuntary feeling of holding one’s breath because you never know what he is really up to. Just like when – SPOILER ALERT – he married a performer because he “liked her dancing”, only for him to later on let her be framed for a murder she didn’t commit. The reason for that? He was letting his other wives vent their anger and jealousy on her for being the ‘new, pretty’ wife in the harem.

Similar Chinese Short Dramas

There have actually been a couple Chinese dramas that follow the same or similar plot as The Job of an Imperial Concubine. Especially Chinese vertical short dramas – just like the ones you see on TikTok and YouTube. An example of this is the short drama called: Reborn, she was forced into palace for sister, won emperor’s heart, and became supreme empress and Modern Consort’s Guide to Rising in Rank, that you can both find and watch on YouTube.

Modern Consort’s Guide definitely differs from the web novel and the similarities lie in how the transmigrator concubine, strives to survive in the cutthroat palace environment by seducing the Emperor and rising to be his most favoured wife. Unlike the novel, however, the concubine blatantly says she wants to be the most powerful woman in the palace whereas Zhaung Laoyan just wants to relax and stay out of drama as much as she can – she just knows the only way to do that is to stay on the Emperor’s good side, always. Another obvious difference is how the web novel takes on a more serious tone but the short drama is more comedic with a couple of overly exaggerated scenes, like how the emperor “called for water” seventeen times during his first night with the female protagonist.

But then we have the Reborn…and became supreme empress short drama that matches the web novel’s tone the most – excluding the mandatory cringey and exaggerated scenes found in every Chinese vertical drama. The drama focusses on Shen Zhinian, the female protagonist, and how she gets revenge on her sister for murdering her in her past life by gaining the emperor’s favour and rising in rank in the harem. The whole drama shows how Shen Zhinian manipulates the emperor and makes sure the schemes of the other women in the harem go back to bite them. It is an interesting watch when you are someone who appreciates a character who, against all odds, uses their brains more than their brawn.

To sum it all up, The Job of an Imperial Concubine is a Chinese web novel that encapsulates the transmigration aspects of most Asian web novels but introduces realistic characters, in a realistic setting with realistic consequences. Those of us who consciously look out for good, bingeworthy reads set in historical eras can really value this one.

Staff Writer; Fadzai Nyamande

A South African who brings her love for fiction, manga, and storytelling into every piece she creates. Her writing is shaped by imagination, curiosity, and a true appreciation for the worlds stories can build.

Feel free to drop a note at; FadzaiN@AfroGamers.com.

Freakazoid: The Odd Hero

It makes sense, that cartoon is something of an acquired taste. It was like a superhero version of Animaniacs with all of the Warner brothers—and Warner sister—in one person. On top of that, Freakazoid never really did much you’d associate with superheroes.

Sure, he had the powers, the super speed, and ran around in his underwear, but his confrontations with villains often ended with them being annoyed to insanity or bumbling their way into an arrest. Plus, his villains never really required that much effort to begin with.

Obviously, Freakazoid was a parody of superhero comics and cartoons. There were several super toons out at the time: Batman, Spider-Man, X-Men, the really fun Swamp Thing show, and the really mediocre Fantastic 4/Iron Man series over on UPN. But what if Freakazoid was introduced into the DC comic book universe?

No One Wants A Freakazoid Comic

Just hear me out! Freakazoid came out in 1995 and ran until 1997. In that time, the series didn’t get a comic book. It was a show owned by Warner Brothers which owns DC Comics. Animaniacs, Tiny Toons, and The Simpsons are all cartoons that got their own comic book runs. So, why not Freakazoid?

One reason is that it didn’t have a long run or anything. Still, there have been cartoons that got action figures off of few seasons. As a matter of fact, those cartoons were made purely to advertise the action figures! Freakazoid didn’t get any merchandise. Biker Mice from Mars got action figures, a video game, and a reboot.

Now, I’m not one to throw Biker Mice from Mars under the bus (Bucky O’Hare was better) but if they could get merch, surely Freakazoid could’ve gotten a standalone comic at least. No, he should’ve been a hero in the DC comic book universe. It would’ve been like if DC’s Captain Marvel swapped brains with Deadpool if it ran today.

In the 1990s, it would’ve been pretty much in line with the rest of DC animation’s comic book series. Endless wackiness and storylines that didn’t really go anywhere but what if he was introduced in this decade—well, it’s a wrap now—through one of the several universe shake-ups the publisher has had since its start?

If an intentionally annoying character like Deadpool can have dedicated comic, spin-offs, and a fanbase, I believe Freakazoid could pull it off. That is, if he’s introduced right and isn’t made into someone like…Sentry. Just all of the power and little of the “Wow, I’d read a full series on just this character”-factor.

I’m Serious

Put my man Freakazoid in DC Comics. He doesn’t need a whole comic; I’d settle for anything more than a cameo. Put in the Justice League. Yes, the Justice League, an organization—like the Avengers—with more members than there are Wu-Tang affiliates.

I want him mixed in so well with the comic book universe that we’ll have to get an edgelord grimdark version of him by Frank Miller with Rob Liefeld doing the art. Then everyone will be slack jawed once they get an Eisner Award for the mini-series Freakazoid Offline.

Staff Writer; M. Swift

This talented writer is also a podcast host, and comic book fan who loves all things old school. One may also find him on Twitter at; metalswift.

First of all, What is a Yandere?

A yandere refers to a person who introduces themselves as loving, gentle and kind when they in fact become mentally unstable when it comes to their romantic interest or other object of their affection. Yandere is derived from Japanese words ‘yanderu’, meaning ‘to be sick’, and ‘deredere’ meaning ‘love-struck’. Most of them are possessive and obsessive over their romantic interest, are exceptionally jealous, emotionally aggressive and brutally violent. The term is typically used in anime, manga and light novels to refer to a character archetype or as a fictional trope. Although yanderes tend to always be assumed as female, male versions do exist and they aren’t any different from their feminine counterparts.

1: Noel Gautier

In the first instalment of the anthology, Noel is the male lead who is shown as a rather timid, quiet and ‘soft’ character. He does not express his thoughts outwardly but when he does, it is through his actions and not always his words. In one panel, he offers to use his hobby – cooking – to express his affection towards his romantic interest, Alicia.

Throughout the short story, Noel doesn’t do anything remotely like a yandere would. The only taste of a yandere we get are two or three panels where his facial expression shifts from shy and cute to unsettling. Another example was how he helped Alicia’s sister steal her fiancé so he could have Alicia for himself. Even then, that didn’t feel like he was acting out as an unstable, love-struck man but as someone taking advantage of a situation in order to shoot his shot with the girl he has always liked. There are yandere characters out there who hide their true feelings behind the shy act – just like Yuri from Doki Doki Literature Club – but unlike her, Noel doesn’t cross over to an obsessive or possessive extreme.

2: Alber Jeniess Zeckelm

The second anthology story is somewhat mediocre, so a proper, strong opinion can’t be given about the characters – even so, Alber is not much of a yandere. He met Lucia when they were both children and almost immediately, he offered to kill her family before mumbling about wanting to kidnap her. Which, to be fair, does qualify as a mental issue for a literal child to say that – whether it was because he fell for her at first sight or not is uncertain.

Unfortunately, that idea falls apart after the characters are older. Alber no longer speaks the way he did when he was a child – threatening murder and all – and actually chooses to maturely propose marriage to Lucia in order to remove her from her abusive family’s custody. After that Alber punishes Lucia’s family for abusing her with, lawful, imprisonment with Lèse-majesté (the crime for insulting royalty) as an additional charge for insulting the prince – him. In the end, Alber gets to be with the woman he loves and Lucia gets to escape abuse and live a comfortable, loving life. Not sure where the violence and insanity is when the story sounded suspiciously like a retelling of Cinderella.

3: Cedric

Out of all three of the so-called yandere, Cedric from the third anthology story made the most sense to be classified as a one.

The short story takes place in 20^th century France where the commoner people will use any chance to abuse a noble. And that is what happens to the female lead, Noella, who has been forced to work as a maid after her noble family lost all their wealth. It is in the mansion she works at that she meets the male lead, Cedric, who disguised himself as a servant to keep an eye on her. On top of that, he even had people spy on her and report everything she had said and done throughout the day to him, whilst acting like a secret admirer and sending her flowers and letters every week.

At first, Cedric seems like the overprotective, gentlemanly type. But the more you read the story, an eery feeling slowly creeps up. And lo and behold, we find out that Cedric fell in love with Noella when she was around 13 years old whilst he was around 17 – based off a flashback panel where a younger her is seated on an older him’s lap.

Now what all these short anthology stories have in common is how they have the romantic interests play off the yandere male lead like his actions meant nothing. Which seems to make sense since the male leads really aren’t doing anything extreme and violent enough to classify them as yanderes and warrant the ladies or those around them to be worried or scared. Another strong give away is how the title of the anthology series clearly states, “obsessive” duke and not “yandere” duke, but those who have read the series have broadcasted the misconception that the men are in fact yandere.

Cedric is a slightly different story, but even he can be brushed off by some readers with a “Based on the story’s era and setting, it makes sense why he is the kind of man he is”. Nonetheless, these men honestly aren’t that bad; they are only drawn with scary facial expressions and say creepy statements that they later in the story don’t actually act on, making them NOT yandere at all… at least not in the conventional sense of the term.

Staff Writer; Fadzai Nyamande

A South African who brings her love for fiction, manga, and storytelling into every piece she creates. Her writing is shaped by imagination, curiosity, and a true appreciation for the worlds stories can build.

Feel free to drop a note at; FadzaiN@AfroGamers.com.

The question falls apart once Kengo is mentioned. Depending on you ask, Kengo is either truly amazing in how realistic it is or really boring in how overly realistic it is. I’m in the first camp but we’re talking about the most samurai game that would be fun to roughly anyone. Not the most Dark Souls of samurai games.

A Tale of Two Clans

That’s where we get to Way of the Samurai on the Playstation 2. It came out in 2003 and had you take the role of a ronin who arrives in a small town facing change as the new, foreign-influenced government rolls in. Yes, we’re out of the Tokugawa Era and now we’re in the Meiji Era. It’s 1878 and Japan has been opened.

There are two main factions fighting for power in the area, the Kurou Clan, lead by Tesshin Kurou, has had power for years and wants to hold on against the new government. The problem is that the new government, heavily influenced by western innovation and culture, have the advantage in weaponry.

To prevent loses, the Kurou opt to sell the iron foundry in the area but have to deal with the villagers who won’t leave. Mind you, it looks like everyone already bounced outside a few villagers and the rival clans. The village is bare, just about devoid of life and its just weird how the Kurou assaults the few folks still left.

The other clan is the Akadama Clan was formed by the illegitimate son of Kurou’s leader. Young and hotted, Kitcho wants to defeat the Kurou whom he can feels are traitors and smash the Meiji government. Tall orders right? Especially when your base of operations is a near ghost town where the population is mainly split between your two clans!

Where It Shines

There are two areas where Way of the Samurai shines. The first is the gameplay, it’s a straight up slash ‘em up action game. In some ways its similar to Samurai Warriors or Dynasty Warriors only you’re not mashing square over and over until its time to pop a Musou attack and clear the room. Instead, it’s a not-as-flashy version of the Warriors approach and it works since you’re not fighting on wide battlefields.

It’s also cool that you collect swords from fallen foes and can have them improved. Of course, since you only have a handful time to make money to do this. Also, you can only have two or three swords at a time. Swords gained can dull and break, losing their effectiveness.

The other area where Way of the Samurai shines is the story. Depending on your actions the game can take several different paths for six endings. You can avoid conflict and just leave Rokkotsu Pass without becoming involved or removing your sword. You’re also able to pick one of the clans or side with the villagers–all four of them.

From there, depending on how you carry out certain missions for the faction or what time of day that you run into main characters, the story can branch off. Character deaths also play a role in how the story unfolds. Way of the Samurai was pretty much ahead of other games in this respect.

Verdict

The glaring flaw with Way of the Samurai is that you only have two days of story. This changes with the sequels but this game gives you a little time to do quite a bit of story. On one hand, there’s not really much going on in Rokkotsu Pass because there’s no villagers. On the other, there’s a lot going on, you just showed up at the tail end of everything.

The bright side to this limitation is that it cuts down on the whole “I’m just gonna run around aimlessly!” style of plan. Some love that, I’m not a fan of it and it’s boring to watch and do. Doing that in Samurai and the game is over before you know it.

That aside, the actual combat is very solid, allowing for heated duels and intense melees. It’s a combat mechanic that totally works. Definitely pick up Way of the Samurai if you can. It’s available on PSP and you’ll have to hunt for it Amazon or eBay–where it’s most likely worth more than it was at launch.

Rating: 7 out 10 (Recommended)

Staff Writer; M. Swift

This talented writer is also a podcast host, and comic book fan who loves all things old school. One may also find him on Twitter at; metalswift.

Tongari Boushi no Atelier, or Witch Hat Atelier, is a Japanese animated series (an anime) that started airing in April 2026. Produced by BUG FILMS, it took approximately 3 and a half years for the adaptation process of the manga, of the same name, to be completed before its premier. The hype following the announcement and release of the series was to be expected considering how the manga received critical acclaim after winning the Best Manga Award of 2025 at the 37^th Harvey Awards – outshining even One Piece.

Because of this, it felt only right to watch and review whether the anime lives up to the standards of the manga it is based on. It has already been a couple of weeks since Witch Hat Atelier came out, but it is never too late to express your thoughts on something that directly captures your attention when it does. This review only looks at the first episode of the anime because first impressions always matter.

Summary and Analysis

Overall, the plot of Witch Hat Atelier features a little girl named Coco who aspires to become a witch due to her immense love and admiration for the art of magic. Unfortunately, in the world she lives in, only those born and blessed with magical powers can be witches. All of this comes to head when Coco, after seeing a witch named Mr. Qifrey use magic, discovers all she needs to wield the mysterious and alluring power is a pen and a casting seal. From then onwards, adventure and intrigue ensues.

The series opens with our main character, Coco, questioning in a neutral tone whether the identities every person adopts is inherently known – thereafter she answers herself by stating how “These things aren’t decided at birth”. This opening scene already speaks to what kind of person Coco is. It insinuates that she is perceptive about the world and realistic about what she can be and cannot be even though she has an intense desire to become something she admires. Her optimism, however, almost attempts to blindside the viewers and have her appear as ignorant and naïve about how the world worked – even though that is not the case. We can see this in a flashback when her mother explains why and how she could not be a witch, leaving her disheartened, only for the next scene to be Coco enthusiastically trying to cast a spell whilst role-playing a witch. These scenes of the episode did well in revealing the duality of her character.

The overall mood of the episode is relatively down-to-earth. It is calming in a sense whereby we as the viewers are getting to know the characters, especially our main character. We can feel this mood shift when Coco tells the story of the time she met a “witch in a mask”. The change is not drastic, but there is something about the way Mr. Qifrey contemplates Coco’s story that gives it a sense of foreboding. Another scene in the episode that gave off this feeling is when Coco began experimenting with the pen and casting spells from the book. Just watching this scene would put any adult with a child on high alert because Coco, a 10 or so year old child, is evidently ignorant on how magic worked and the potential scale of its destructive power. The episode did well is setting up these shifts in tone and mood as the viewers can now anticipate how the upcoming episodes can make them feel and whether or not they are willing to go through that.

Another noteworthy aspect is the recurring image of the book. Not just the book Coco got from the masked witch but throughout the episode – from the start with Coco’s monologue to the end where the episode ends with a shot of a book’s page flipping to the next. This recurrence obviously points to the masked witch and how them giving Coco the book of spells started the whole story, but it can also symbolise a newfound knowledge and experience. In the series’ case, that is the recurring image of the book symbolises Coco’s new enlightenment into the world she had always dreamed of experiencing. That is why the episode ending with a page turning signifies a new set of ideas and understanding that Coco is about to acquire about the “mysterious and sparkly, valuable and pretty” world of magic.

Animation and Voice Acting

The animation style is nothing short of breath-taking. It is smooth in the way the characters move in the settings they are in and how natural and realistic these movements are. The scene where Coco cuts a piece of fabric for Mr. Qifrey directly captures how delicate and precise the animators of the episode (and perhaps series) were in every frame they animated.

The only downside – but not too much of a downside – is the voice-acting in the series. This judgement is specific to the Japanese voice-acting. There is nothing bad about it, but there is nothing special either. It almost felt as though it was done to serve a purpose; the script said Coco needs to be happy, so the voice actor spoke in a happy voice; the script said Mr. Qifrey needs to be carefree, so the voice actor used a light-hearted tone in their speech. Not to diminish the work put into bringing the characters personalities to life, however the voice acting can be praised in the same light as some other anime already out there.

Closing Words

In closing, the series is a definite watch, especially if you are interested in fantasy, magic and adventure. The medieval fantasy aesthetic makes it even more appealing to watch, and it really gives off the vibe that the anime takes place in an alternate world where magic is part of people’s everyday lives though strictly observed by the witches who can use it. Which makes it even more exciting for what’s to come in the following episodes regarding the worldbuilding and magical systems put in place.

So, if you are a blatant fan of the Harry Potter franchise, The Lord of the Rings trilogy or literally any isekai anime with magic and overpowered characters, then Tongari Boushi no Atelier is without doubt made for you.

Staff Writer; Fadzai Nyamande

A South African who brings her love for fiction, manga, and storytelling into every piece she creates. Her writing is shaped by imagination, curiosity, and a true appreciation for the worlds stories can build.

Feel free to drop a note at; FadzaiN@AfroGamers.com.

Now, the prices for a tape featuring two episodes were always dicey but you were guaranteed to find something you’d dig. Flipping through it, I noticed a lot of classic mecha series.

Mecha are the anime, manga, and video games involving giant robots that can either be piloted from inside or controlled. Usually, the series are sci-fi in nature but things have been mixed up and new concepts have been explored.

Let’s take a trip down memory lane and look at big three pioneers of mecha anime and manga.

Voltron (1984)

This franchise holds a very legit claim to being the best of the classic mecha franchises. This franchise was just satisfying to watch. It wasn’t overly complex, too violent, or even too lengthy.

I’m not a big fan of monster-of-the-week writing but it worked with Voltron. This was like an animated version of Power Rangers which began airing a few years before Voltron.

Another thing that works for Voltron is that this is mecha in a sci-fantasy setting. It’s like if you mixed Power Rangers with Star Wars when the back story comes into play.

Of course, anime that was broadcast don’t really hit story-wise when you’re ten. You’re just looking at the cool fights, suits, and robots, really.

Robotech (1985)

Now Robotech and Voltron aren’t as old as pioneers such as Mazinger Z or Gigantor but it is one of those series that pioneered mecha in the West.

This was thanks to anime’s best friends during expansion and exposure: dubbing and broadcast television. Dubbing—replacing the audio of exported content with that of the import market—wasn’t that great in the late 80s and into the early 00s.

However, just the idea that this was some new, fresh content in the West was enough for Robotech to catch on. It’s military-focused but it’s also a space opera with half of it being about the protagonist doing his duty and protecting the woman he loves only for it to no be reciprocated.

Of the three mentioned series, Robotech kind of sits in the middle. It’s not as action-heavy and fast-paced as Voltron tends to be but it doesn’t move at a slower pace like our next entry often does.

Also, lore-wise, Robotech isn’t as technical as our third franchise but it explains more than Voltron usually did. Progression-wise, this series moved along well and ran in chronological order.

Which is different from the third and final series on this list.

Gundam (1979)

This is such a hard series to explain. Gundam does a lot. It’s a long-running series which predates Robotech and Voltron by a few years but comes over a decade after Gigantor.

Like Robotech, Gundam is a space opera obsessed with a lot of lore and timeline events. Unfortunately, the franchise is fractured into multiple series taking place in different timelines or even different worlds.

As I said, this is a franchise that is hard to explain. Some of the series are sequels or prequels of others while some are standalone series. Then you have a series like G Gundam which kind of steps away from the slower-paced high drama of the franchise into straight-up shonen territory.

On the one hand, I’d say this is to be expected if a franchise has run as long as Gundam and needs to freshen things up for a while. I don’t know if this was the right direction but I enjoyed it!

For the most part, you could get someone into Voltron or even Robotech. As a matter of fact, Robotech is offered on most streaming platforms and for free on Crackle.

Gundam is a harder series to get people into. It really depends on if you introduce them to the more modern stuff, the late anime boom stuff like Gundam Wing and G Gundam, or take them back to the throwbacks.

It’s a gamble because Gundam’s pace is such that if the series you picked for someone to watch doesn’t stick, it’s going to be hard to suggest more Gundam. At that point, you’re just pushing it.

Bonus Classic Mecha Anime: Gigantor (1963)

Gigantor is pretty much the godfather of modern mecha anime. It’s old school as hell, black and white, and features a super simplistic storyline from episode to episode.

When I first saw it, it was more for historical purposes. Watching the series years later and I don’t care for it, to be honest. This is not a fun series to sit through.

That’s hard for me to say because I’ve sat through and enjoyed Astro Boy which was released around the same time. There’s just something I can’t get into with the original Gigantor.

I will say that this was a big broadcast for me since I heavy into finding the origins of certain genres in music, comics, and animation.

Seeing the birth of so many tropes is why I enjoy watching Kinnikuman and Fist of the North Star so much. Once Toriyama took from those two series to make Dragon Ball manga history was made.

That could be the thing. I went in thinking I’d witness the same thing in Gigantor that was inspire Gundam, Robotech, and Voltron. I guess that would be the case if those series were heavily in the old 1940s Danger Boy and Mystery Lad novels vein like Gigantor.

Staff Writer; M. Swift

This talented writer is also a podcast host, and comic book fan who loves all things old school. One may also find him on Twitter at; metalswift.