This is why I’ll Never Watch Another Isekai Anime. I have finally reached the point in my life where I have to take a stand. I’m over it I have endured enough reincarnated office workers. I have witnessed enough medieval guilds. I have heard enough explanations of mana. I have met enough demon lords. I have watched enough protagonists discover, with great surprise, that the fantasy world they have just arrived in contains both magic and women.
I am done. I will never watch another isekai. And you will have to work really hard to persuade me otherwise. And before the isekai defenders arrive at my house in a horse-drawn carriage to explain that actually, technically, Sword Art Online isn't an isekai, let me clarify: I don't think every isekai is bad. The problem is that the genre has discovered something extraordinarily convenient: If your protagonist doesn't know anything about the world, you never have to find an interesting way to explain it. And once you notice this, you start seeing it everywhere. The Greatest Writing Hack Ever Invented. World-building is hard. And to build another world in science fiction or fantasy is even harder if you want it to feel immersive and complete. It has to be relatable enough that the audience are engaged, while feeling magical or alien enough to be something extraordinary. If you're writing conventional fantasy, you have to figure out how your world works and then communicate all of that information without making your characters sound like they've been held hostage by the author. You have to establish the history, politics, geography, religion and economy. Even the magic system or technology. And you need to do it all in a way that feels natural, because we don’t go around explaining the history of our region to every new person from ‘out of town’. Writers need to find ways to explain why the king is hated, why the northern kingdom is at war with the southern kingdom, why everyone is afraid of the forest, why wizards can't simply turn the enemy into a frog and why apparently nobody has thought of using doors, why the colony on Mars has been ruled an enemy to Earth. And, crucially, you have to do all of this while pretending that the characters already know it. Because they do. If two people have lived in the same kingdom their entire lives, they probably aren't going to sit down over breakfast and say: "As you know, Dave, the Kingdom of Eldoria has existed for approximately 600 years and is currently governed by King Gerald III, whose grandfather signed the Treaty of Westbridge following the Goblin Wars." Dave knows. Dave was there. Dave has the commemorative mug. So the writer has to be clever. Maybe you learn about the politics because the protagonist gets arrested. Maybe you learn about the religion because they attend a funeral. Maybe you learn about the magic system because someone accidentally sets their house on fire. Maybe you learn about the history because two characters disagree about what actually happened. That's good world-building. It makes the world feel like a place where people actually live, where they have stakes and opinions. Then along comes the isekai protagonist. And suddenly the writer has discovered the literary equivalent of a cheat code. "Where am I?" Excellent, now I can explain the world to my audience like I am speaking to a child. "What's mana?" Wonderful, let me introduce you to the magic system I spent ages working our and normally I would have to wait until season 2 to get into. "Why is everyone afraid of the Demon King?" Oh, this is Christmas. A boring, barely wrapped Christmas. You've just been handed permission to explain the entire setting to the audience without having to disguise any of it as natural conversation. The protagonist doesn't know anything. Therefore they need to ask about everything. And because they need to ask about everything, everyone else can explain. The exposition isn't in the story. The exposition has become the story. Welcome to Fantasy Orientation Day. "Welcome to the Kingdom of Whatever." "Thank you. Where am I?" "This is the Kingdom of Whatever." "What are those monsters?" "Those are monsters." "What is that?" "Mana." "What is mana?" "Magic energy." "How does magic work?" "Well, there are seven elements..." And I'm sitting there thinking: Can somebody please just let the man walk down the street? Can I witness some of the complex and interesting lives inside the world. Can I see the heartfelt struggles and connections, the hidden relationships which will unfold as we watch. Can we just let the complex and wonderful worldbuilding sit in the background as the setting of the world? Imagine if every fantasy novel worked like this. Imagine Gandalf meeting Frodo and saying: "Before we leave, I should probably explain the geopolitical situation of Middle-earth." Frodo gets out a notebook. "Excellent." "Now, Mordor is to the east." "How far?" "Approximately 1,500 miles." "Why is it bad?" "Well, that's a complicated history lesson." "Could you start from the beginning?" "No problem." Three hours later, the ring is still on the kitchen table. This is one reason I actually like Delicious in Dungeon as a thought experiment. Imagine how catastrophically boring it would be if it were an isekai. Instead of characters who already understand their environment, you'd get: Delicious in Dungeon: I Was Reincarnated as a 17-Year-Old Japanese Man and Now I Have to Explain Every Monster, Magic System, Species, Dungeon Mechanic, Political Institution and Cooking Technique to Myself While My New Friends Watch And somehow that would still be considered a good title. Actually, forget that. It would probably be the short title. The Main Character Who Came From Somewhere Else There's another problem. The isekai protagonist often doesn't really belong to the world they're supposedly the hero of. They're a tourist. They may eventually acquire a house, a girlfriend, seventeen levels of magic and a deeply unnecessary relationship with a slime, but culturally they're still someone who arrived last Tuesday. Their values come from modern Japan. Their humour comes from modern Japan. Their assumptions come from modern Japan. Their knowledge comes from modern Japan. And the fantasy world exists around them primarily to react to this strange man who knows what electricity is. This is particularly noticeable in those stories where the protagonist introduces some completely ordinary piece of modern technology to a medieval society and everyone reacts as though they've just witnessed the second coming of Prometheus. "You mean... noodles?" "Yes." "You've created NOODLES?" "I went to a supermarket once." "HE IS THE CHOSEN ONE." Don’t get me wrong this is entertaining, for about one season. This is basically what Reborn as a Vending Machine, I Now Wander the Dungeon is all about, and the first season of that was better than it had any right to be. But by the time the second season rolled around, magical vending machine technology had exhausted the bit. The jokes fell flat and the characters and world hadn’t had enough invested in them for me to really care. Sometimes this genre starts to feel less like fantasy and more like a very elaborate fantasy version of showing your mates a YouTube video. The protagonist knows what a hamburger is. The peasants don't. Comedy ensues. The Secret Ingredient: Being From Our Modern World. This is also where I think the isekai boom intersects with a broader cultural phenomenon. There's a certain fantasy inherent in the premise: What if I, an ordinary person from my boring modern life, were suddenly transported somewhere where I was special? And I understand the appeal. Who hasn't occasionally imagined being dropped into another world and discovering that all those hours spent playing RPGs were actually professional qualifications? "Oh no! I've been transported to another dimension!" "Do you have any useful skills?" "Well, I have 800 hours in Skyrim." "Good enough." Suddenly you're a hero. You understand technology. You understand video games. You know what a vending machine is. You can introduce mayonnaise. Everyone thinks you're brilliant. You have somehow become the most important person in a kingdom despite having spent your previous life avoiding phone calls. And I think gaming culture is part of why the formula works so well. A lot of isekai feels like it has been designed around the fantasy of becoming the player character. The world is an RPG. The protagonist is the player. The skill tree exists for them (and in some iskeai the main characters can actually see their skill tree, Solo Levelling, I am looking at you). The NPCs exist to admire them. And the audience gets to watch someone else finally discover that all the things they know are secretly incredibly impressive. The fantasy isn't merely "I want to live in another world." It's: "I want another world in which I am the protagonist. And I am admired by everyone for the mundane knowledge that normally just makes me part of the everyday." And frankly, if I wanted that experience, I'd play a video game. And I would experience getting to be part of the world in a much more satisfying way. And I’m not just coming for Anime storytelling with this, although I think there has been a glut of isekai in recent years. The West has been cutting this corner for centuries. Alice falls down the rabbit hole. Dorothy gets swept into Oz. The Pevensie children walk through the wardrobe. The protagonists of Labyrinth get dragged into a fantasy world. The Kid from Home Alone get’s swept into the Page Master’s Library There are magical trees, mysterious doors, portals, enchanted books and all manner of children wandering into dimensions they absolutely weren't supposed to be in. We've been doing this for ages. I don't object to the premise itself, but I am tired of seeing it be used as a shortcut. In fact, the premise can be brilliant. The outsider perspective is useful, and when the outside isn’t told but experienced and discovered. I want to see the hero have to work out the rules of the world, while struggling to adapt and survive. That is a far more compelling and sustainable narrative. It can give us a character experiencing genuine culture shock. It can explore identity, homesickness, alienation, morality, and what happens when someone is forced to rebuild their entire understanding of reality. That can be fascinating. But notice what all of those things have in common: The fact that the protagonist is from another world actually matters. If you removed the isekai element and the story would remain basically unchanged, then why did we bother? That's the standard I want and Sword Art Online Is the Benchmark. I'm not going to pretend every part of Sword Art Online is flawless. Season two exists, and I don't want to start a fight. But conceptually, the premise works because being trapped in another world isn't just a decorative feature. It is integral to the plot. Remove the premise and the story falls apart. Kirito isn't simply a bloke who happens to be standing in a fantasy world. The fact that he is trapped there fundamentally changes the stakes. The virtual world is connected to the real world. Death has consequences. Escape matters. The characters' relationships are shaped by the fact that they're stuck there. That's what I want from an isekai. Don't just transport your protagonist to another world because you need an excuse for them to ask: "What's a guild?" Make the other world matter. Make the displacement matter. Make being an outsider matter. Otherwise you're just writing fantasy with an unnecessary loading screen. There is another development that has convinced me civilisation has gone too far. Those fake anime TikTok shorts. You know the ones. Some unbelievably specific fantasy scenarios are presented with AI-generated anime imagery, a robotic voice and a title that appears to have been generated by feeding the entire genre into a blender. "I Was Bullied by 37 Students So I Got Reincarnated as a Microwave and Became the Strongest Demon Lord in Another World." And somehow this is Episode 14. The format works because the protagonist is from our world. So you don't need to explain them. Everyone knows what electricity is. Everyone knows what ramen is. Everyone understands phones. You can immediately contrast our protagonist's normality with the absurdity of the fantasy world. "What's that strange glowing object?" "It's a smartphone." "WHAT IS A SMARTPHONE?" And there it is. The joke. The exposition. The characterisation. All in one convenient package. It's efficient. But where is the reason for the audience to connect? Why should I care about the world if the writers don’t seem to care enough about their characters to make them part of the world? It's the storytelling equivalent of microwaving a ready meal and calling yourself a chef. At this point, the genre has become so saturated with reincarnation that I am beginning to suspect the trucks themselves are unionised. Because the other thing I am convinced of is that somewhere a truck driver owes all Manga artists money and it’s gotten personal. Somewhere in Japan there is an exhausted lorry driver whose entire career consists of killing protagonists. "Where are you going?" "Convenience store." "Not anymore." HONK. Congratulations. You're now level one. You have no possessions. You don't know where you are. You have a mysterious goddess to explain the rules. You have six stats. You have been granted an overpowered ability. And, most importantly, you have absolutely no idea what the fuck is going on. Thank god there is this sexy ranger in scant leather armour nearby to help keep you alive and introduce you to all her hot friends. So That's It. I'm Done. I don't hate isekai because someone gets transported to another world. That's a perfectly good premise. We've been transporting protagonists to strange worlds since before the word "isekai" existed. What I hate is what the modern formula so often does with that premise. It turns the outsider into an exposition receptacle. It makes the world explain itself instead of allowing the audience to discover it. It makes the protagonist special because the plot says so, not because you are rooting for them. It makes the supporting cast orbit them. It makes the setting feel like a video game waiting for the player to arrive. And worst of all, it can make a genuinely fascinating fantasy world feel like it was assembled five minutes before the protagonist got there. That's the thing I want from fantasy: a world that existed before the story started. I want characters who have history. I want cultures that don't exist solely to be explained. I want politics that don't conveniently emerge when the protagonist needs a quest. I want characters to disagree about their own history. I want magic to be something people have grown up with rather than a tutorial window. I want the world to continue turning when the hero isn't looking. If your entire premise depends on someone being hit by a truck so that the author doesn't have to figure out how to explain their own world, because they didn’t care enough to take the road less travelled, then why should I care to walk with them?
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