Perfect characters with no weaknesses are just boring. It's precisely because of weaknesses and flaws that they become more interesting and charming—creators from both the anime and game industries arrived at the same answer [Ginga Tetsudou 999 Director Kameyama × Orbitals Development Team Three-Way Talk]
Anime from the 1980s and 1990s, known as "classic anime," has captivated countless people.
For those who experienced that era, it should feel nostalgic. But those attracted by its charm are not just anime fans from the 80s.
The rustic warmth unique to hand-drawn cel animation found in classic anime, its highly free form of expression, and its "proactive attitude towards innovation" are breaking domestic and international boundaries, deeply attracting young generations both at home and abroad.
And the one who perfectly reconstructed this retro anime texture using modern animation techniques is Ginga Tetsudou 999 (hereinafter referred to as Galaxy Express).
Ginga Tetsudou 999 aired all 12 episodes from July to September 2025 on TOKYO MX, YouTube channels, and major streaming platforms. In February 2026, the theatrical version Ginga Tetsudou 999: Local Train to the Theater, which re-edits the entire series and adds new footage, will be released.
Director Yohei Kameyama, who single-handedly handled almost all production work including script and character design, made his debut as a genius newcomer, delighting anime fans.
At the same time, works in the gaming industry paying homage to "classic anime" have also sparked lively discussion. One notable title is Orbitals (hereinafter referred to as Orbitals).
Orbitals is a co-op action game featuring 1980s Japanese anime-style visuals, developed by Shapefarm and published by Kepler Interactive. It is scheduled for release on Nintendo Switch 2 on September 3, 2026.
The title was officially announced at The Game Awards 2025, sparking lively discussion with its visuals and "duo-exclusive" gameplay.
Besides the element of "nostalgic anime," Galaxy Express and Orbitals share commonalities in how characters are shaped, the relationship between duo partners, and the "sharpness" unique to small-scale productions.
To this end, Famitsu specially invited Yohei Kameyama, director of Ginga Tetsudou 999 (Galaxy Express), Jacob Lundgren, director of Orbitals, and Marcos Ramos, creative director of Orbitals, for a three-way discussion.
They discussed various aspects of the works, such as the charm of 80s anime and the effect of pairing characters. Additionally, the interview covered that wonderful "contrast beauty" that is both nostalgic and casual, yet incredibly cool—a must-read for readers interested in these two titles.
Characters come first, then the world. Whether it's space or "Cassette Futurism," they are placed in the story to evoke resonance.
──Director Kameyama, did you create the characters first, and then build the worldview and story?
Director Kameyama:
Basically, I construct the story led by characters. First, my inspiration usually comes from characters. For example, I might first think, "This character's gestures and movements would be interesting," or "It would be fun to have a character with this kind of visual image."
Then, I consider how to cleverly connect them and integrate them into the story's structure... I use this method every time I create a work.
──So, was the setting of "space" as the stage also determined after completing the character settings?
Director Kameyama:
Yes, actually, I didn't have a strong attachment to choosing space as the stage itself. It's just that using space as a setting makes it more gorgeous and the visual presentation more interesting.
──I see. So, the worldview of "Cassette Futurism" was also an expression derived as a final result, right?
Director Kameyama:
That's right. I wasn't particularly attached to Cassette Futurism either.
Classic elements were added for "resonance." If the entire worldview became completely fictional high-concept sci-fi, audiences would often find it hard to immerse themselves or resonate, subconsciously thinking, "This is a story from another world that has nothing to do with me," creating a psychological barrier.
However, if some nostalgic elements or details like "I've seen this before" are added in certain places, audiences should be able to integrate into this worldview more smoothly. That's what I think.
Moreover, nostalgic elements are personally quite appealing to me. I think the reason I like nostalgic elements might also be because they "create resonance."
I think this is why audiences can resonate with these parts and enjoy them while watching the work.
Marcos:
I was very surprised by your explanation earlier, as it is remarkably similar to our creation method. We also always start creating from the story's ending.
The direction of story creation and its final landing point are essentially a scene in the characters' life trajectories. It is not rigid plot deduction, nor a pile-up of worldview settings, nor a vague fantasy.
"What do we want this character to learn by the end of the story?" and "How will they grow and change by then?"—we build their journey based on these questions. So, from the thought process perspective, it's 100% created from the ending. We think: "If they ultimately reach point 'B', what should point 'A', the start of their journey, look like?"
In this way, their starting point is likely completely opposite to the so-called "endpoint." This means that when the story begins, the characters' psychological state is the exact opposite of the final outcome. Afterward, we build the worldview supporting this journey based on this foundation. This logic also applies to gameplay design and worldview construction.
Sci-fi works set in space, like this title, have immense plasticity and can change form freely based on creativity. Magical devices appear and disappear, and sci-fi rules constantly evolve. All of this exists to support the story.
Ultimately, I firmly believe that people go to movie theaters or play games to "feel something." Audiences and players experience a work not simply to understand that "this fictional world has such a deep history" and nod in approval.
Therefore, a work must first touch people's hearts. Thus, whether it can resonate with audiences and players is the most critical aspect. This concept also applies to Orbitals. The story is set in space, where people upload their consciousness into machines and their bodies are manufactured via 3D printing. At first glance, this is a very hard sci-fi and unrealistic concept.
But in the game, mechanical bodies leak oil, and players even need to use ordinary screwdrivers to repair them; there is such a mechanism in the game. This makes players feel relieved, thinking, "It's just an ordinary machine," fostering a sense of familiarity.
The characters in the work have phones, and media similar to CD-ROMs even appear. By incorporating these everyday elements to bridge the distance between the work and the audience, I deeply agree with this point.
Jacob:
In the world of Orbitals, there are futuristic spaceships capable of firing cannons, boosting with jets, and being piloted freely.
However, when you step into the main area inside the spaceship, you'll find a sofa and game console placed in front of the TV. Moreover, the characters are not sitting on the sofa, but are specifically designed to sit directly on the floor to play games (laughs).
Marcos:
We could have made it a holographic projection table, glowing from below, creating a neon-filled near-future design.
However, we ultimately chose to abandon that cliché.
Director Kameyama:
In Orbitals, the clothes the characters wear are very realistic and grounded in design. They aren't typical sci-fi or futuristic outfits.
I believe what characters wear is also a crucial factor in generating player resonance. We adopted exactly the same approach when designing characters.
Marcos:
When designing, we only consider "how to make these characters look cool, interesting, and exciting." Something like, "This guy is a blue-skinned man with horns, wearing a tie... so cool!" That's the kind of feeling. And it's in these details that familiarity and resonance are generated.
Because of this resonance, everyone feels, "Although wearing such clothes in this sci-fi worldview might be a bit illogical, whatever, it's fine."
Jacob:
Even if no one else in the entire work's world dresses that way, it doesn't matter at all. In fact, such designs bring excellent results in building "emotional resonance."
Because I observed some very interesting reactions from test players playing Orbitals. At the beginning of the game, the moment the screen switches to the character selection screen, everyone almost immediately decides whether to choose Maki or Omura. They'd say things like, "I'll pick this one" or "I choose this character."
This suggests that within the core character design, there must be a subtle magnetic field that instantly touches the player's intuition. Perhaps it's because players sense similarities to themselves in the characters. The resonance players feel might be the very force that instantly draws them to specific characters.
Sketching lines with pencil, waiting for the paint to dry. Practicing the traditional techniques of the 80s and 90s to appreciate the charm of the analog era
——Orbitals proposes the concept of "Traditigital" (combining traditional craftsmanship with digital technology) in its production method. That is, starting with manual creation from paper and pen, then moving to digital production once the creativity is established. Could you share your unique attention to detail regarding this?
Marcos:
When the project to "create a game inspired by 1980s and 1990s animation" was initiated, we approached the theme with profound and serious consideration.
To understand how creators of that era actually produced their works, we conducted research and practical experiments.
In the 1980s, digital tools were hardly widespread, limiting the expressive methods available to creators. If we had produced this title using only digital means from the start, we likely couldn't have replicated that specific texture.
Therefore, we decided to trace back to the origins of visual expression, starting by authentically practicing the techniques of that era. We learned a great deal from this process.
Pencil line art has its specific stroke techniques, while painting backgrounds with gouache provides feedback through color, and requires waiting for it to dry after application.
The production processes of the past completely changed our mindset regarding "how to draw." Due to the limited number of colors available, every color choice had to be more precise and targeted. It is the accumulation of these subtle judgments that creates a decisive difference in final visual persuasiveness.
Not only that, but for us, it was essential to translate the vast experience gained from analog drawing into a form that could be perfectly reproduced within the game engine. To seamlessly integrate traditional art techniques into digital creation, we began developing our own shaders and creating original plugins and filters.
*Gouache... A type of opaque watercolor paint. It has strong covering power, applies evenly, and dries to a vibrant matte finish. A key characteristic is that the tone changes slightly between its wet and dry states.
Jacob:
Another important point, often mentioned by Marcos, is that when creating physically with pen and paper, there is naturally no "Ctrl+Z (Undo)" function. Once a mistake is made, you must accept it and find a way to turn that flaw into an asset.
It is precisely these imperfections that truly make a work "perfect." There is joy in immersing oneself in those imperfections.
Marcos:
Once a mistake is made, you accept it and go with the flow. Thus, accidental errors become part of the design.
──This kind of creative approach is quite rare in game development, isn't it?
Exactly. Furthermore, this applies to animation production as well; our collaboration with STUDIOMASSKET is a very rare case in the industry.
In concrete terms, this meant providing the game's 3D assets directly to the animation studio for their use.
While many major game titles attempt to seamlessly blend game scenes with animated cutscenes, we took this approach even further, pursuing visual impact while also improving efficiency and reducing time costs.
Specifically, we pioneered a new workflow: by handing over the game's native data directly to STUDIOMASSKET and having them use the actual in-game camera, we set a precedent for seamless transitions from gameplay to animation. This approach significantly reduced production time while enabling highly efficient and smooth collaboration with the animation studio.
This method is unattainable through traditional animation pipelines. Moreover, deep cross-industry collaboration between game companies and animation studios is extremely rare, making this a truly unique and innovative development model.
──Typically, the standard process is to "ask the animation company to deliver the completed footage," treating the scene as a self-contained segment.
Director Kameyama:
For me, that’s simply unimaginable….
Actually, my work isn't deliberately retro in its visual style. In fact, my visuals are built entirely on hardcore 3DCG technology, presenting a very modern aesthetic. If anything, only some of the small gadgets or design easter eggs in the title carry a slight nostalgic flavor.
For this reason, reverting the entire production pipeline to traditional analog methods is completely unimaginable for me.
In the recent independent animation scene, individual creators are emerging rapidly with impressive momentum. What struck me was the growing number of people adopting animation techniques from that era, such as insisting on lining and coloring on cels even in today's age. I feel they are practicing the very creative approach mentioned earlier. It turns out that fully replicating that retro visual style requires so much effort and hard work behind the scenes...
As for my personal production method, I adopt digital drawing right from the character design stage to improve efficiency and save time.
Recently, more people have been asking for my autograph, and I felt a bit embarrassed (laughs) when I couldn't draw a quick character sketch upon request. So, I’ve recently started training myself to blindly draw characters in one go using oil-based markers. Although it’s extremely challenging, it becomes more addictive and satisfying the more I do it! With every stroke, I can truly feel myself improving.
As you mentioned earlier, I believe the pressure of "not being able to use Ctrl+Z" forces rapid improvement. Yes, the difficulty is akin to playing a game. By repeatedly struggling and restarting, you purely enjoy the sense of achievement from your skills leveling up, like gaining massive amounts of XP. I truly feel that drawing with traditional tools is not only important but also provides excellent positive stimulation for the brain.
Like the "click" of an old TV power button, the feeling of getting your finger caught in a cartridge slot, and the necessity of rewinding VHS tapes before watching.
Marcos:
I think the best part of physical creation is that once the artwork is finished, it becomes an "object you can genuinely hold and touch." It appears directly before the eyes, requiring no medium, and can be passed to others with warmth.
Jacob:
A work truly gains meaning when you give it to someone. The experience of personally handing it to fans carries a weight that cannot be equated with simply sending image data online.
Marcos:
It was fascinating to see how many commonalities our ideas shared with Director Kameyama's philosophy. Our work will be released not only digitally but also as a physical edition, existing as a tangible object.
Yet at this very moment, we have collectively returned to contemplating tangible, physical painting and art. Previously, we discussed the retro-futuristic world we created, noting that objects in the work are not mere holographic projections but physical entities with texture that can be touched.
Because of this, I feel we have always been revolving around a single core concept: "texture" and "things you can genuinely hold in your hands." Ultimately, all these discussions are about human experience.
When creating 3D works, since Everythinggj is digital, it’s inevitable to experience aesthetic fatigue over time. Or rather, if you limit yourself to creating solely within the digital world, it can eventually become somewhat dull and tedious.
I don't know if these discussions will lead to any grand conclusions, but they certainly resonate with us, and I believe we will always return to this point time and time again.
However, the process of physically crafting something is always enjoyable, and seeing the real object before your eyes brings a sense of satisfaction. I believe this is the unique and powerful advantage of creating "tangible items."
I also deeply realized again that having physical objects is wonderful. Seeing and touching real things firsthand constantly provides me with stimulation and inspiration. Therefore, I believe we must continue to explore this kind of tangible creation.
Jacob:
Interestingly, the "tactile feel" is often found in subtle details we don't usually think about. For example, the power button on old CRT TVs has a distinct "click" sound and feel, and the screen emits a "buzzing" noise when turned on.
Modern TVs turn on perfectly with just a touch, offering no tactile feedback. But for some reason, that leaves me feeling a bit lonely.
Marcos:
I think people around our age can relate to this feeling... It’s like that sensation of sticking your finger into a cartridge slot and getting bitten...
Director Kameyama:
Back when watching VHS tapes, you had to rewind them first, right? Only after rewinding could you start playing from the beginning.
Although it is indeed time-consuming, laborious, and troublesome, going out of your way to do it now brings a great sense of satisfaction and feels very refreshing.
The dialogue pacing in Galaxy Metro has a "very Western feel"
──You mentioned earlier that Galaxy Metro has a Hollywood style. Could you share more about the impressions overseas audiences have of this work?
Jacob:
After watching the work, we quickly discussed a very interesting point: "Although created by Japanese artists, it strongly conveys Western cultural influences." We found this fascinating. As Westerners, it was now our turn to draw inspiration from Director Kameyama's work. That is why I felt so many commonalities in the piece.
Marcos:
Come to think of it, what impressed me most, and what I want to emphasize again, is the incredible pacing of the entire work.
From scene construction and transitions to action sequences, dialogue, and even the setup of jokes, Everythinggj feels on beat, with an extremely clear and strong sense of rhythm. This work has even reached the point where it 'could stand entirely as a pure audio broadcast even if you closed your eyes.' The ability to effortlessly deconstruct the entire plot just by listening to the dialogue is entirely due to the precise 'tick-tock, tick-tock' rhythm progressing comfortably within the text.
Marcos:
The 'feel' of playing the game is crucial, and rhythm is extremely important. We often discuss issues related to rhythm. Rhythm is the soul of animation and effects. Therefore, in daily creation, I often emphasize to the team: "Please consider the musicality of the effects."
For example, it's not just about pursuing a cool explosion; players get true satisfaction because the explosion has a bursting power with a "boom" sound. I strongly felt this sense of "satisfaction" in "Galaxy Subway."
Jacob:
Especially the timing between jokes and punchlines is very exquisite. Even if you manage to design a funny point, if the rhythm remains monotonous, the effect of the punchline won't be as good.
The work "Galaxy Subway" precisely steps on the beat of 'da, da, pause, reversal,' bringing an extremely comfortable sense of satisfaction. At that time, Marcos and I watched it together, and we couldn't help but laugh out loud several times.
Director Kameyama:
The reason you might feel "Galaxy Subway" has a Western style is entirely due to my past accumulation of extensive exposure to Hollywood movies and Western TV programs. It feels like chatting in English but talking about Japanese matters.
Because of this, although the editing techniques and rhythm control learned are those of Western film and television works, the stories and characters depicted in the work are very Japanese. Precisely because of this, overseas audiences can enjoy the charm of this Japanese-style work without any barriers, using their familiar language and cultural context.
Regarding rhythm and pacing control, I don't actually have a clear formula in mind. Before producing animation or doing voice actor dubbing, I personally read the character's lines and create a video storyboard.
While checking the video storyboard recorded with my own voice, I repeatedly explore adjustments, such as stretching certain parts a bit longer or shortening others with a lighter rhythm, to hone a comfortable sense of pacing.
It's not that there is a clear rule like "doing this will improve the rhythm," but rather that each time, I preliminarily produce visuals to match the sound, check the visuals, and adjust them to a pleasing rhythm... something like that process.
*Video Storyboard... refers to an image design in video format created by combining still images and temporary audio based on storyboard sketches. The purpose of creating a dynamic storyboard is to specifically confirm and adjust the rhythm, duration, shot transitions, and timing of the entire video.
Marcos:
Did you, the director, also record the temporary voice acting for the characters yourself? Do you hand over this dynamic storyboard with your own voice as a "demo" to the voice actors, telling them: "I hope you can perform with this kind of feeling and rhythm"?
Director Kameyama:
Yes, all the voice actors hear my voice. Although it's a rather embarrassing and shameful process, since it's a necessary step for the work, I just went ahead and did it.
At the event exhibition, that temporary voice acting was made public, and my voice kept echoing throughout the venue (laughs).
──Does "Orbital Twins" have Japanese voice acting prepared?
Marcos:
Yes, Japanese voice acting is included. The game supports voice acting in 8 languages, but we set a strict rule: the Japanese voice acting must be completed first.
We started by writing the script in Japanese. This is because, while advancing this project, we kept thinking, "If this were truly an anime work existing in the world, what would it look like?"
Therefore, we adopted a process where we first wrote the Japanese script, had the voice actors perform according to the Japanese lines and produced the animation, and then translated and dubbed it into English. Although this work was very tough, thanks to this, we finally succeeded in mastering the rhythm that animation should have.
But having said that, because it had to match the Japanese way of speaking, the English dubbing actually sounds a little stiff (laughs). In other words, the Japanese version has a stronger "authentic anime feel."
Exactly, this is one of the ultimate secrets to how "Galaxy Subway" creates that unique, natural "conversational feel."
Jacob:
Speaking of which, there was another aspect of "Galaxy Subway" that left a very deep impression on me while watching.
Earlier, it was mentioned that "the conversations sound very natural." Usually, when we record, especially in English dubbing, actors generally enter the recording studio separately and record their lines line by line. Yes, this is probably a common practice in the industry.
But the conversations in "Galaxy Subway" have many segments where characters talk over each other and speak rapidly like a machine gun, with a very fast pace. So I was wondering if some different production process was used.
By the way, during the ADR sessions, did all the voice actors enter the same room to record together? I'm curious how that natural conversational feel was created...
Director Kameyama:
Actually, the voice recording itself took place in the same room on the same day. However, each voice was recorded separately by character.
This is because some characters in the work use mechanized digital voices that require post-processing with special effects. But there are also original voice characters that do not need effects. Because of this, we had to record them separately.
Therefore, we asked the actors to imagine what the character they were interacting with was saying while performing, and then act accordingly. So, that natural interaction was purely thanks to the voice actors' superb skills.
Marcos:
To be honest, I couldn't tell at all that this was recorded separately and then mixed in post-production. It sounded just like everyone was gathered together, chatting naturally face-to-face on site.
──Did Director Kameyama give instructions like "please act in this way" at that time?
Director Kameyama:
I provide guidance on acting and also request revisions.
I personally thought I only made occasional changes and intended to give very few revision instructions... but hearing from the staff, it seems that in their eyes, I "provided a massive amount of revisions."
From the perspective of other sound directors or producers, the revision suggestions I give seem to be quite detailed. To others, I might appear to be overly obsessed with details.
Basically, I am constantly filling the gap between the actual performance and the texture I envision in my mind.
I ask them to make fine-tuned adjustments regarding subtle differences in acting details, such as "it feels a bit different from what I envisioned" or "wouldn't that way of saying it sound a bit harsh?"
It's "impossible to control Everythinggj" in work. I am only responsible for building the skeleton, while the flesh and blood around it are left to the team to conceive.
──Precisely because "Galaxy Subway" was almost entirely handled by Director Kameyama, it achieved such a shockingly high level of completeness. The same goes for "Orbital Twins"; it possesses a high degree of unity precisely because it is a small-scale production, with unique craftsmanship condensed into every corner of every detail. What do you think are the advantages that can only be realized through individual or small-scale production?
Director Kameyama:
Although individual production or small-scale development has disadvantages, there are certainly advantages as well.
Taking the aforementioned voice acting as an example, in anime production with original source material, roles are usually assigned to multiple levels such as the manga author, the series director, and the sound director. As a result, there may be inconsistencies among the relevant personnel regarding the "correct" vocal image of the character.
However, when producing "Galaxy Subway," I took on all these roles myself. I created the characters, integrated them into the context of the work, and gave the instructions. Therefore, the creative concept remained consistent and unwavering, which might be one of the major advantages of small-scale production.
It can be said that the consistency of the purpose, "what exactly do we want to express," reflects the core advantage unique to individual or small-team production.
I feel this is also true in general animation production. Compared to outsourcing to multiple companies, works completed independently by a single company often receive higher praise for their overall completeness, which seems to have become a common trend. I believe the fun of a work stems from the fact that the members involved can communicate fully and reach a consensus on the final form.
Jacob:
This is also a topic we often discuss.
Marcos:
We always come to the conclusion: "In a large project involving many staff members, it is fundamentally impossible to perfectly control every element of the game."
Even if you try to control it, if you meddle with and obsess over the details of "that effect," "that asset," and "that mechanism" one by one, there simply isn't enough time. Trying to put every element 100% under your own control is unrealistic. Moreover, I believe that even attempting such total control is not a good thing for us.
Because of this, our strategy is to first build the underlying framework and game rules of the entire work. For this particular work, the framework we built is essentially "this is about the journey of Maki and Omura, the two of them."
We thoroughly clarify the worldview and the vision the work aims for, continuously strengthen it, and patiently share it with the entire team almost every week and every day, constantly reminding everyone in the team.
Of course, at key points I consider important, we sometimes give detailed instructions, such as "this must be like this" or "you must use this color scheme."
For the other parts, I believe establishing the framework is crucial. So, I first build the skeleton of the work, and then leave it entirely to the team members to freely fill in the details.
Jacob:
Game development is massive in scale and requires an extremely long time to polish, so it's impossible to control every single element. That's why it's necessary to carefully select the key points that truly matter—such as crucial scenes in the story or pacing.
However, when it comes to the core scenes of the work, in order to achieve the perfect effect of "exactly as I imagined," I provide extremely detailed feedback.
However, for Everythinggj else—such as gameplay elements—I usually only convey the intended direction or emotion to the designers, like "I want players to smile knowingly" or "I want them to feel the character's charm," and nothing more.
We leave the rest up to their discretion. They receive our intentions, get inspired, and turn them into new ideas. Then, I provide feedback based on that.
At least in game development, I believe it's very important for every employee to feel a sense of ownership, thinking "this work belongs to me." Only then can everyone create with passion.
Development of Orbital Twins has already taken nearly five years. For employees who clock in every day, five years is an incredibly long time.
That's exactly why I must ensure they feel fulfilled. When creators are passionate and deeply value the elements they contribute to the work, the game itself naturally becomes better. After all, in that case, the game becomes a masterpiece crafted with care by 50 creators who all love it dearly.
Director Kameyama's ideal is to assume a role similar to that of a "manga artist"
—Director Kameyama, do you have any aspirations like "wanting to create works with a larger budget"?
Director Kameyama:
As for whether I'd want to work in such a place... No thanks, I don't want to. I think it would be exhausting. Since I didn't participate much in club activities during my student days, I'm really bad at teamwork... This is something I'm currently struggling with.
However, I do have works and stories I want to create. Those contents certainly can't be realized by an individual or a small-scale setup, so I also feel that expanding the scale might become necessary in the future.
—Speaking of the game industry, employees at large companies are both "office workers" and "creators," so once a title becomes popular, their status inevitably rises, and in many cases, they're required to handle not just creation but also management and administration...
Director Kameyama:
That's a situation I absolutely want to avoid at all costs.
The ideal state would be a role similar to that of a manga artist. Even if tasks are delegated to assistants, the creator remains at the core, continuously producing work. Regardless of scale, I believe maintaining this essential role is the most ideal transformation.
—That's exactly the presentation style I felt from Galaxy Subway. How should I put it... It feels like a new form of "serialized manga" gradually being released on YouTube...
Director Kameyama:
In modern times, there's more and more you can do with just a single computer, and the barrier to entry for video production is lowering. Seeing these results, I truly feel that we've entered an era where anime can be made much like drawing manga in the past.
That's precisely why I hope Galaxy Subway can become a pioneering work in this style of production, and we consciously strove in that direction during its creation.
—While there are many personally created 2D comics, I felt something new in Galaxy Subway, which was made using 3DCG.
Director Kameyama:
Indeed, the freedom and drive that only individuals or small teams can possess are definitely major advantages. Japan's manga culture is incredibly diverse, and as a medium, it has truly remarkable appeal. That's why I've always thought it would be great if anime could also produce an increasing variety of rich works in this way.
But having said that, once business aspects are considered, I often realize firsthand that things aren't so simple. This time we managed to complete it successfully with good results, but honestly, I'm not sure if we'll be able to do it just as smoothly next time...
Jacob:
It's a very difficult thing, and also a lesson we had to deeply learn and understand over these past few years. In the early stages of Orbital Twins' development, the two of us kept giving very fragmented feedback, causing progress to stall. We really wasted too much time on trivial details. To be honest, handing over the concepts in our heads to others, fully trusting them, and delegating authority was truly frightening and unsettling.
Marcos:
After all, both of us were originally hands-on creators... To put it bluntly, we're the type of "pure creators" who insist on rolling up our sleeves and doing things ourselves. Therefore, for us, letting go of those hands-on tasks felt quite strange—since in the past, all of this was just our everyday routine.
Although I was asked to step back from the front lines, at every specific moment, I couldn't help but think, "I could draw this myself..." In the end, I just couldn't hold back; I desperately wanted to participate in the on-site work.
Jacob:
I know how to do it. But as mentioned earlier, if I do Everythinggj myself, there simply isn't enough time in a day.
Director Kameyama:
How many meetings do you two have in a typical week?
Marcos:
I spend half my working time in meetings. There are days when I'm communicating with people for two and a half days straight, and some weeks it even reaches around three days.
Director Kameyama:
I see. So, the time spent actually drawing or engaging in creative work accounts for about half of the week.
Marcos:
However, it also depends on the project stage. We're currently in the final stretch, so we don't have much hands-on operational work.
Those tasks strictly speaking fall more into the domain of engineers or QA testers. Although we do play-test, that's where it ends; we aren't creating any new content.
On the other hand, during the pre-production phase, the focus is on brainstorming ideas and writing documents. Since things change over time, the proportion of meetings isn't always fixed.
Director Kameyama:
Aside from actual production, do you two have any specific initiatives to help everyone get to know each other better or strengthen team bonds?
Marcos:
It wasn't exactly a big party atmosphere, but there was definitely a smooth, natural family-like dynamic among us.
Jacob:
You could say the overall atmosphere within the studio is very lively and communicative. We eat together, have lunch, drink beer, and even play games together after work.
Actually, one of the most important reasons I decided to join Shapefarm and come to Japan was the office atmosphere here. Everyone was incredibly warm and friendly toward me, and the studio's inclusive, accepting environment really gave me a sense of belonging.
Marcos:
We also organized a trip for all employees to Okinawa to learn scuba diving. It was great that everyone could go together. Jacob joined after that, but...
Jacob:
I decided to join after seeing on the official website that "we organize a trip like this once a year" along with photos of Okinawa (laughs). But since joining, we haven't gone even once (laughs).
Director Kameyama:
Do you usually communicate in English in the office?
Marcos:
We basically use English, but it depends on the specific phase of the project. For example, during voice recording sessions, since the cast and sound engineers were all Japanese, Everythinggj was conducted in Japanese. I was also present on-site, participating entirely with the help of a translator.
Imperfection and lack of refinement can instead bring a "certain sense of realism"
—This might sound a bit rude, but both Galaxy Subway and Orbital Twins have a kind of non-mainstream, or perhaps "earthy cool" vibe... It's composed of a unique aesthetic with a sense of "contrast." Is this aesthetic, rarely seen in mainstream works, something you precisely targeted and deliberately pursued during creation? Or did it form naturally in the process of pursuing individuality? I originally hoped to articulate this "taste" precisely with words, but now it seems...
Director Kameyama:
To be honest, I'm not entirely sure if this was intentional or if the things I created naturally turned out that way. I just feel that if it's made too cool, the game's worldview and characters become harder to resonate with.
Characters with a slight "clumsy" vibe actually allow the audience to feel a sense of closeness and reassurance. If Everythinggj is made perfectly flawless and cool, it creates distance, making it hard for people to immerse themselves in the world of the work.
──In other words, in the process of creating the work, you deliberately retained a certain "imperfection" and breathing room, correct?
Director Kameyama:
That's right. Indeed, the work does leave room for "imperfection." I always feel that being "down-to-earth" is essentially a form of realism. For example, when seeing a very beautiful and tidy street, while exclaiming "how beautiful," one might sometimes feel a sense of dissonance due to the lack of lived-in atmosphere, wondering, "Do people really live here?"
Rather than pursuing refinement, we found that adding a bit of dirt or scattered trash actually creates a sense of realism, conveying that "people live here" even if it's not stylish. To achieve this realism, I believe it's necessary to incorporate some "down-to-earth" elements to a certain extent.
──What about the situation with "Orbital Twins"?
Marcos:
We are undoubtedly, very deliberately and with a high degree of self-awareness, shaping the work in this way. Our core concept is to "create a world that is logically consistent with the story."
In the work, a massive cosmic storm destroys known society, leaving only a handful of survivors. I have always been deeply interested in stories about how these survivors survive and rebuild society.
Rather than an era where Everythinggj is intact and flourishing, I am more deeply attracted to the post-apocalyptic world after collapse. It is a world of rebuilding one's life—where people piece together scattered parts to create something new, which is almost like a world of "model kit customization."
Whether it's houses or spaceships, models can be cobbled together using existing parts. Telling the stories of these survivors is crucial to us; at the same time, I firmly believe that the very concept of combining vastly different elements holds immense creative joy.
It might be a bit like playing with LEGO bricks. For example, "build your own ship, then install a motorcycle seat in the driver's seat." At first glance, it might seem like a somewhat sad situation, but at the same time, it coexists with the joy of hands-on creation.
Jacob:
I believe this also influences the gameplay itself. The characters in the work are not all-powerful, cool superheroes; they die multiple times throughout the game.
However, we have always made a deliberate effort to turn these failures into an enjoyable experience as well.
When characters die in the game, players share a laugh. Our adjustment goal is to ensure that character deaths don't appear pathetic, but instead make players smile at each other and feel the urge to "try again."
In other words, this "imperfection" in the characters' actions and behavior actually makes them more approachable and relatable.
Director Kameyama:
This is fundamentally consistent with conventional character design logic. Perfect characters without weaknesses are just boring. It is precisely because of certain weaknesses or flaws that characters become more interesting and charming.
Balancing animated aesthetics with game control feel. The reasons behind "Orbital Twins" settling on "30 frames per second"
──Regarding frame rates and character movement, what are your perspectives?
Marcos:
Regarding the frame rate of "Orbital Twins," although we had many discussions, it's a topic where finding balance is difficult. This is because we must simultaneously satisfy the needs of "providing an animated look" and "maintaining the game's control feel."
If characters move smoothly at 60 frames per second, the information overload causes it to lose the feel of animation. On the other hand, if the frame rate is too low, it harms the game's controls and interactive feedback. The controls suddenly become stiff and unresponsive.
Because of this, we have been exploring the most suitable frame count, striving to accurately convey the information players need without sacrificing the unique texture and charm of animation. Our final conclusion was: 30 frames per second. Depending on animation needs, we sometimes reduce the in-between frames within the same frame count, allowing a key pose to be held longer.
Although the characters themselves animate at 30 frames per second, we engaged in repeated trial and error to find the optimal balance between animated aesthetics and game feel.
Jacob:
Objects in the environment were initially all set to run at 12 frames per second. If faster-moving parts felt too choppy, we would increase it to 24 frames per second. Without exception, we meticulously fine-tuned anything that moves.
The choice of frame rate itself is part of animation aesthetics
Director Kameyama:
Actually, our understanding of frame rates is something we recently learned through studying animation. Like 3D animation or older Disney films, each shot was basically locked at 12 or 20 frames per second. But looking at current TV anime, its frame skipping and variable frame rates are actually much more flexible and free.
We use over 12 frames for action scenes, but drop to around 8 frames per second for everyday scenes. The decision of "what frame rate to choose" is itself part of the aesthetics of animation production. "Choice" is both a technical and an aesthetic component.
This was a secret I couldn't perceive as a child, so I was greatly shocked when I learned of it. I believe this is fundamentally identical to the challenges you two are currently facing and resolving.
Marcos:
I completely agree with this. Interestingly, even I have become so accustomed to watching animation that I have fully adapted to this presentation style of "not moving unnecessarily."
So when I watch some newly released movies recently, I反而 feel that "they move too much, the amount of information is somewhat overwhelming"...
Director Kameyama:
In the past, every frame of animation was drawn by hand by artists, and it was truly exquisite.
Marcos:
Yes, the workload was simply incredible. One of my favorite works is classic Disney films like "Sleeping Beauty," from the era before Xerox technology was introduced. The visuals were truly beautiful.
*Xerox... In the traditional animation coloring process, we used heat-sensitive tracing machines to directly transfer pencil sketches drawn by artists on paper onto transparent celluloid sheets via thermal transfer technology. This technology was introduced to the US in the 1960s, automating and speeding up the celluloid film tracing process, which previously relied entirely on manual craftsmanship.
Marcos:
Of course, I understand that in highly competitive shooting games, victory or defeat often depends on millisecond-level judgments, so the massive amount of information provided by high frame rates is essential.
But for us, since the work leans more towards puzzle-solving, unlike those genres, high frame rate information doesn't provide any enhancement to the gaming experience.
The biggest source of inspiration for "Orbital Twins" is "Neon Genesis Evangelion"
Director Kameyama:
Which works had a profound influence on "Orbital Twins"?
Marcos:
There are many specific influences. Overall, the greatest source of inspiration is "Neon Genesis Evangelion."
While specific elements like visual effects and ingenious mechanical designs are important, fortunately, it allowed me to witness what it means for "all of a creator's ambitions and blueprints to be presented perfectly in the work." Although it is a combat-oriented work, its core contains very human dramatic conflicts, and even deeper philosophical thoughts.
Moreover, these elements are presented with perfect integration while coexisting simultaneously. Just contemplating the fact that "humans can truly create such a magnificent project" has provided us with immeasurable inspiration.
Because of this, we also decided to adopt the same approach when producing "Orbital Twins."
Even those not interested in emotional scenes will be deeply attracted by cool characters, awesome battleships, and grand space adventures. But at the same time, it is also a profound human drama that allows people to resonate and form bonds with the characters, containing the era's fate and deep themes that the creators truly wanted to convey. It can even touch players after completion, making them think, "Perhaps I can try making choices like this in my future life"... This is the greatest source of inspiration.
Jacob:
Marcos loves "Neon Genesis Evangelion" so much that he often shows me videos while working, saying things like, "Look at this explosion effect," or "Check out this fight scene" (laughs).
Additionally, another work that profoundly influenced the overall atmosphere of this title is "Dragon Ball." We were deeply inspired by its pure sense of adventure—featuring numerous characters with vastly different designs, and while the overall tone is lighthearted, it always manages to portray emotional outbursts or serious moments with extreme precision and depth.
Marcos:
"Neon Genesis Evangelion" gave us the fundamental inspiration for "what kind of project we want to make," while "Dragon Ball" became our practical inspiration for "how to specifically draw the story." It is an action-comedy adventure work.
Director Kameyama:
Just looking at the trailer, you don't get any sense of Neon Genesis Evangelion at all, which is quite surprising.
Jacob:
The influence of Neon Genesis Evangelion appears in subtler aspects. For example, the way explosions are depicted in specific animations, the presentation of lasers, or the emotional portrayal of characters.
Marcos:
Exactly. Once you see the ending, you'll understand.
The reason everyone in Galaxy Metro appears in pairs is because "you need someone to talk to by your side."
Marcos:
While watching Galaxy Metro, I genuinely felt that it was far more than just a simple animation; at its core, it is a story about "people living outside the tracks of societal norms."
Those rejected by society eventually come together to form a community that feels like a "home." Director Kameyama, was this theme something you have always cherished, or was it an intentional choice?
Director Kameyama:
Regarding the theme of "outsiders," it wasn't necessarily something I consciously kept in mind throughout the creative process.
This is because, at the end of the prototype short film Milky☆Highway, Chiharu and Mahina were arrested. When expanding the story from there, new characters needed to be introduced naturally, which inevitably led to a narrative centered on criminals, shifting the focus to "what can they possibly do when faced with such dire circumstances."
So, it wasn't that we started with the strong intention of deliberately portraying a story about outsiders; rather, as the plot unfolded, it logically evolved into the result we see today.
*Milky☆Highway... A self-produced 3D short film released by Director Kameyama in 2022. It is a sci-fi comedy set on an interstellar highway, featuring the augmented human Chiharu and the cyborg girl Mahina.
Marcos:
In other words, it naturally evolved into the current result through the organic flow of the story.
Jacob:
Because I have always been developing online co-op games, my designs always include pairs of partners and companions. In Galaxy Metro, there are also three pairs of partners, right?
Interestingly, in a game I worked on previously, the poor relationships between characters caused significant stress for players. We found that forcing players to listen to characters bicker endlessly actually translated into player frustration and negative emotions.
But while watching Galaxy Metro, I strongly felt that the characters were supporting and complementing each other in an extremely brilliant way. Even when they disagree or can't accept each other's actions, viewers can genuinely feel from the bottom of their hearts that they are a "perfect golden pair."
How did you design these characters who are "different yet complementary"?
Director Kameyama:
Characters appear in pairs because they "need someone to talk to." Indeed, the deeper the trust, the more they can speak their true feelings to each other, even arguing, right?
In anime or games, we sometimes see scenes where characters talk to themselves, but I personally find those scenes very strange and unnatural. However, if a partner is nearby, there is a necessity to voice one's thoughts and emotions. Because this makes the dialogue more natural, we set everyone up as pairs.
Marcos:
This setup is very interesting. Indeed, Western screenwriting theory has similar principles: monologues or explanatory self-dialogue must be organically integrated into the story as a natural narrative flow.
However, if you look at actual anime works, you often encounter characters directly saying things like, "Hello, my name is..."—forced exposition lines. That's why I find it very interesting that Director Kameyama consciously avoids this technique in his creations.
Jacob:
I really resonate with the idea that "only truly close friends can criticize each other." Because you know criticism won't break the friendship, you can be honest. I think this is a very good starting point.
Maki and Omura are also friends who can be completely honest with each other. Although they argue, it's purely a friendly and constructive verbal sparring.
——Galaxy Metro sparked quite a discussion by playing Candies' famous song "Fly to the Galaxy!" during the ending credits. Will Orbital Twins also feature Japanese songs?
Marcos:
Since it hasn't been released yet, we can't reveal details, but we put a lot of care into its production, so please look forward to it.
Director Kameyama:
Are there any other movies or works that influenced you?
Marcos:
It's the relationship between Miguel and his great-grandmother (Mama Coco) in Coco. Specifically, how he interacts with her and how much he cherishes her.
Pixar and Disney works have been a truly massive source of inspiration for me.
Jacob:
For me, there isn't one specific work... Marcos is the type who dives deeply into a single work to explore an idea, absorbing various elements while concretizing thoughts filled with deep emotion. I, on the other hand, am the type who collects inspiration fragmentally from various places, such as "this one scene in that work" or "this particular moment."
Marcos:
Additionally, we both love horror themes. Jacob enjoys horror games, while I prefer horror movies.
So we often have sudden ideas like, "Can we take something terrifying we saw recently and package it in our own style to incorporate into the game?" Of course, we never copy directly. We simply extract that moment's explosive power or audiovisual impact and blend it into our own work.
Director Kameyama:
You mentioned earlier that the story is set in space and that you both enjoy horror themes. Will there be creatures like "Aliens" in the game that are influenced by such works?
Marcos:
In the worldview of our work, the concept of "aliens" doesn't exist per se, so you won't see monsters like those in the movie Alien.
However, we did incorporate the concept of "organisms incomprehensible to humans" and a kind of "otherness" beyond conventional logic. But it's more like a ghostly imagery, positioned closer to creatures found in mythology.
Marcos:
They aren't the traditional kind of "alien creatures" with meticulously designed ecosystems or convoluted lore.
Jacob:
Interestingly, much of the inspiration for gameplay mechanics comes not from movies or games, but from real-life interactions. Since it's an online co-op game, the most crucial element is actually the social communication between players.
There's one scene I really love, inspired by my personal experience of walking through a crowded train station. You bump into someone coming toward you, both try to dodge, move right simultaneously, then left simultaneously, then right again... that kind of phenomenon.
I felt that "this is a moment everyone can relate to." So, I decided to include it in the game. When players think, "I'll go right, I need to separate from my teammate," and act on it, both end up going right, then left, then right again (laughs).
When players experience that moment, they can genuinely resonate because they have experienced it in the real world before. We found a way to transform these daily experiences into gameplay mechanics.
Director Kameyama:
I draw these descriptions 100% from real life. The key really lies in "whether it resonates," right?
Is it because you are overseas creators that you can view "anime" objectively?
──So far, what has your impression been of talking with Director Kameyama?
Jacob:
Today's conversation was truly beneficial, a time filled with inspiration and insight. Watching Galaxy Metro itself provided me with great impact and enlightenment, teaching me a lot; I可以说 I returned fully loaded.
The most crucial takeaway was undoubtedly how the interactions between characters achieve such naturalness and deep resonance. This is a vital element when creating multiplayer cooperative games. Therefore, hearing directly from the director about his approach to constructing the game's world was truly fascinating. I sincerely believe that Director Kameyama has accomplished something truly remarkable.
Marcos:
I completely agree. Director Kameyama has a clear vision, which is palpable throughout the entire work. It stands as a complete piece, allowing one to feel the "message it wants to convey," and that message is expressed very clearly.
When encountering various works in the world, I often feel that their edges and personalities have been smoothed out, assimilated into something mediocre and ordinary. I always feel that "these works lack the creator's voice behind them," almost "as if they were products of committee compromise."
However, after watching Director Kameyama's work and having discussions like today's, I can clearly feel that there is a real person behind this work, someone with independent views and perspectives. This has brought us immense impact and inspiration.
This reaffirmed my conviction: we must create a game that perfectly embodies our own assertions and perspectives, bringing them to life at 100%. Thank you all very much for taking time out of your busy schedules to participate in this discussion today.
──Finally, for players who have read this article, are interested in Orbital Twins, and are considering purchasing it, could each of you share a few words with them?
Marcos:
What I want to convey is that Orbital Twins was not initially aimed at objectively and scientifically recreating animation. Rather, we prioritized capturing "a certain feeling." That feeling is the anticipation of watching anime as a child and the eagerness to share it with friends immediately afterward.
That is exactly what we aimed for. Throughout the production process, we constantly returned to the starting point, asking ourselves: "How can we perfectly recreate that wonderful feeling from a specific moment?" Sometimes, we deliberately ignored established animation rules to create something that felt "better expressed this way." Because that is precisely what is deeply connected to my childhood.
So, if my words resonate with you, if you remember the feeling of watching anime as a child and cherish that feeling, then Orbital Twins will surely bring you a pleasant time.
So, please find someone who resonates with you and experience this game together. As long as two people fight side by side, you will definitely create truly cool and unique miracles within the game.
Jacob:
For me, the entire meaning of Orbital Twins lies in "bringing people together" and "sharing joy." Therefore, we wanted to create a game where people can share the same moments, create shared memories, laugh together, build connections, and draw their hearts closer.
If you have someone you want to spend time with, I believe that the mere act of "playing together" is enough to bring you joy.
──Director Kameyama, how did you find the experience of this three-way conversation?
Director Kameyama:
When I saw the trailer for this game long ago, I was greatly impacted, thinking, "So games can recreate the charm of Showa-era animation to this extent!" My impression at the time was that a remarkable work had arrived.
I had always assumed it was a Japanese production, so I was shocked to learn during this interview invitation that it was actually created by an overseas team of creators.
The reason I say this is that Japanese-style works created by overseas developers often feel somewhat off or unnatural to Japanese audiences. However, in Orbital Twins, the creators' deep understanding of Japanese animation left no such sense of unnaturalness. So, learning that it was made by an overseas team was itself a shocking revelation.
Listening to the previous remarks, I deeply felt that this is indeed a work created by a group of people who genuinely love animation.
For Japanese people, the term "Anime" is often just a simple abbreviation for "animation art in general (Animation)," even including Disney works. However, in English-speaking circles, "Anime" is regarded as a unique Japanese style and form of expression, clearly distinct from regular animation. If one stays in Japan, there are surprisingly few opportunities to objectively examine animation as a unique "genre."
This made me deeply realize that precisely because they are overseas creators, they actively examine and contemplate "what is the essence of 'Anime' as an independent genre." This is a game that confronts the visual expression of animation head-on, crafted with utmost dedication. I am increasingly eager to see what the final product will look like.
──Thank you. If there are any future development plans for Galaxy Metro, please be sure to let us know.
Director Kameyama:
While derivative projects such as manga adaptations are underway, we also plan to release a new short film in 2027, so please look forward to it.
As discussed today, we are working hard to expand our production team structure to deliver works to everyone more efficiently, so please continue to support us.
It is precisely because of flaws, failures, and weaknesses that characters and works become more interesting and compelling.
During the interview, the other party repeatedly blurted out "complete agreement," which left a very deep impression on me. Different countries and different media naturally have vastly different production methods and processes. One side is an anime produced almost entirely by an individual, while the other is a game created by a team of 50 people. Despite this, the final answers reached by both sides were surprisingly consistent.
Neither work stops at a stereotypical recreation of "retro." They attempt to capture a certain "tactile sensation." The feel of an old TV's power button, the VHS tape that won't play unless rewound, the feeling of getting your finger caught in a cassette tape—these are reconstructions of the satisfaction and nostalgia of those days using modern technology.
Both works exude a certain "clumsy coolness," imbued with a tangible warmth as if real people inhabit them. This is evident not only in every line drawn after thorough research into the animation techniques of the 80s and 90s but also in the high-context, rapid-fire dialogues between close friends.
Orbital Twins will be released on September 3rd. Galaxy Metro plans to release a new short anime in 2027. These two classic masterpieces, which give "retro" a cool modern deconstruction and successfully bring it into the present, are ones I sincerely recommend everyone experience firsthand on their respective screens.