Skip to 4:30 in the video to witness the one moment of joy Sister Princess has given me.
Watching Sister Princess (almost) every week has been . . . an experience. Judging from the idiotic premise, lousy production values and mind-numbingly dull writing, I wouldn’t blame you for thinking that I grow angrier as I watch each episode, like an Incredible Hulk who is set off by awful anime. But after 17 episodes of Sister Princess, I would say that watching it brings me no emotion at all — anger, joy, sorrow, and so on, they all leave me during the course of a normal episode of Sister Princess.
It is quite possibly the most lifeless, bloodless piece of media I’ve ever consumed. I can’t bring myself to be angry at all these fetishized dolls throwing themselves at some bland turd of a lead character, because everything is crafted with such banality. At least Shuffle! has the guts to go all out with its idiocy. Sister Princess plays like it was created by a group of people who are afraid of being judged for their stupid fetish that nobody gives a shit about. They want to go all-out incest orgy, but they just can’t, because there’s no conviction — only fear. And so every episode has characters searching for teddy bears or shopping for light bulbs.
So when I watch Sister Princess, it is the truest form of emotional masochism, because I feel nothing inside for those 23 minutes. My eyes see images unfolding onscreen, but nothing registers in my brain. That awful slow-talking loli says something that is supposed to be cute, but it is too faint to reach my heart. Even the immense pain I felt when that evil dojikko cheerleader fuckface spilled some shrill nonsense from her hateful mouth is nothing but a dull throb now. I am but an empty shell of a man for 23 minutes a week.
What I’m trying to say is Sister Princess is turning me into a serial killer.
(More reflections on page two.)