https://www.thegamer.com/atlus-queer-characters/
For years, Atlus has teased the possibility of queer characters and storylines in its selection of games before pulling the rug out from beneath us. Many of these instances likely weren’t even deliberate, but the subtext is there, and thus the hurtful treatment of LGBTQ+ themes across its growing library is a difficult thing to overlook. As a pansexual trans woman who grew up with the likes of Persona and Catherine, watching as things have failed to evolve and arguably even regressed is such a downer, cementing the problematic ways Atlus has tackled LGBTQ+ representation. The studio consistently fails to realise how some of its narrative ideas come across to an audience trying so hard to love them.
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Catherine: Full Body is the most hurtful example. While Persona 5 has a lot of issues regarding its adult romances and inconsistent treatment of women, the remastered puzzler hits closest to home. This is thanks to Rin, a new character introduced as part of the expanded storyline who appears to be a transgender woman. She flirts with protagonist Vincent Brooks and establishes a relationship built around music, common interests, and ensuring Rin has a place of comfort and care to call her own while recovering her memories. It’s a cute bond, but one compounded by needlessly bigoted rhetoric and a conclusion that comes so, so close to being a positive example of queer representation. Sadly, that’s thrown away in service of either nothing, or a climax so absurd that it borders on cowardly. There seems to have been a little willingness from Atlus to embrace the thematic layering it puts in place, but alas, it all comes tumbling down.
Partway through the campaign, an intimate encounter between Rin and Vincent reveals that she has a penis, and therefore - in the eyes of the game - is a man. Female pronouns are swapped out for male ones, and
Vincent now treats the character with a mixture of genuine love and hesitant awkwardness because of what she has between her legs. It’s the tired and cliched trans panic trope that has been used as a punchline for decades by cisgender creators who see something comedic in the idea of men being disgusted or tricked by women they thought were cis. In reality, situations like this have gotten people killed - they still do - and making light of them leaves a bad taste in the mouth. Rin is otherwise treated with compassion, her amnesia seeing customers of the Stray Sheep treating her as a permanent member of the establishment as she befriends and serenades them, eventually saving men with her music in the treacherous dreams Vincent must navigate. But this all comes crashing down because of the problematic tropes around her.
She’s a cute girl who plays the piano and talks about her fractured memories, and this narrative will either be expanded upon or abandoned depending on your own decisions. If you pursue Katherine or Catherine’s storyline, Rin more or less disappears from the game entirely after her true identity is revealed and Vincent struggles to apologise. He comes across as feeling extremely guilty for his actions, but the damage has been done, with the game trying to pass Rin off as male crossdresser despite their character being trans-coded in so many obvious ways.
Her outfit is based on the Trans Pride flag for one thing, but meaningful symbolism like this is abandoned in favour of a storyline that concludes with either Rin transforming into an alien, holding a special concert, or as is the fate of many fictional - and real - trans women, being murdered. No matter the outcome, Catherine: Full Body never makes up for its biggest mistakes. Obviously it's important to consider the cultural definitions of LGBTQ+ identities in Japan and how they might be portrayed in media, but it shouldn't excuse damaging depictions like this, more so when games are knowingly developed with a global audience in mind.
Going back in time to Persona 4, Atlus once again saw itself falling victim to painful cliches and harmful tropes associated with queer individuals. Kanji Tatsumi’s character arc in Persona 4 has him shedding his tough guy persona in favour of something softer, while simultaneously accepting his bisexuality and attraction to both genders. It’s a touching realisation on the surface, but dialogue focused on gay panic rob it of so much substance. Persona 3 has a scene taking place on a beach where a trans woman is depicted as a sexual predator, outed when a piece of stubble is noticed by the other characters.
Persona 5 isn’t outwardly transphobic or homophobic, though one scene in the original release has Ryuji being pursued by two homosexual men shown as sexual deviants. It’s crass and outdated, and with all of these games having the same director, it’s an uncomfortable pattern of bigotry that has become increasingly difficult to ignore. There’s a worrying trend here, one that is further solidified when you consider Persona’s troubling depiction of women and how it struggles to provide them with agency that isn’t tied to their figure, sex appeal, or relationship to a male character. There’s some bright spots to be found, but these pale in comparison to the grossness found throughout so many of these games.
When Catherine: Full Body was first revealed, its marketing centered around Rin’s true identity. Much of the art saw her skirt being lifted into the air, held in place by her hands and mouth as attention was deliberately drawn to her genitals. We obviously couldn’t see the full picture, but it was so easy to tell that trans panic was going to be incorporated into her story in a way that was lazy and hurtful. I said as much at the time, and was right, even if it didn’t venture to the worst places it could have done.
But it still sucks, and the fact Atlus clearly flirts with the idea of queer representation and even incorporates such identities into its roster of heroes, it also seems just as willing to label them as outcasts or make fun of them in service of a cheap joke. Persona will celebrate its 25th anniversary later this year, and I hope looking back on this legacy will remind Atlus how badly it needs to move forward when it comes to doing justice for LGBTQ+ people, and to stop treating them as a punchline.
For years, Atlus has teased the possibility of queer characters and storylines in its selection of games before pulling the rug out from beneath us. Many of these instances likely weren’t even deliberate, but the subtext is there, and thus the hurtful treatment of LGBTQ+ themes across its growing library is a difficult thing to overlook. As a pansexual trans woman who grew up with the likes of Persona and Catherine, watching as things have failed to evolve and arguably even regressed is such a downer, cementing the problematic ways Atlus has tackled LGBTQ+ representation. The studio consistently fails to realise how some of its narrative ideas come across to an audience trying so hard to love them.
advertising
Catherine: Full Body is the most hurtful example. While Persona 5 has a lot of issues regarding its adult romances and inconsistent treatment of women, the remastered puzzler hits closest to home. This is thanks to Rin, a new character introduced as part of the expanded storyline who appears to be a transgender woman. She flirts with protagonist Vincent Brooks and establishes a relationship built around music, common interests, and ensuring Rin has a place of comfort and care to call her own while recovering her memories. It’s a cute bond, but one compounded by needlessly bigoted rhetoric and a conclusion that comes so, so close to being a positive example of queer representation. Sadly, that’s thrown away in service of either nothing, or a climax so absurd that it borders on cowardly. There seems to have been a little willingness from Atlus to embrace the thematic layering it puts in place, but alas, it all comes tumbling down.
Partway through the campaign, an intimate encounter between Rin and Vincent reveals that she has a penis, and therefore - in the eyes of the game - is a man. Female pronouns are swapped out for male ones, and
Vincent now treats the character with a mixture of genuine love and hesitant awkwardness because of what she has between her legs. It’s the tired and cliched trans panic trope that has been used as a punchline for decades by cisgender creators who see something comedic in the idea of men being disgusted or tricked by women they thought were cis. In reality, situations like this have gotten people killed - they still do - and making light of them leaves a bad taste in the mouth. Rin is otherwise treated with compassion, her amnesia seeing customers of the Stray Sheep treating her as a permanent member of the establishment as she befriends and serenades them, eventually saving men with her music in the treacherous dreams Vincent must navigate. But this all comes crashing down because of the problematic tropes around her.
She’s a cute girl who plays the piano and talks about her fractured memories, and this narrative will either be expanded upon or abandoned depending on your own decisions. If you pursue Katherine or Catherine’s storyline, Rin more or less disappears from the game entirely after her true identity is revealed and Vincent struggles to apologise. He comes across as feeling extremely guilty for his actions, but the damage has been done, with the game trying to pass Rin off as male crossdresser despite their character being trans-coded in so many obvious ways.
Her outfit is based on the Trans Pride flag for one thing, but meaningful symbolism like this is abandoned in favour of a storyline that concludes with either Rin transforming into an alien, holding a special concert, or as is the fate of many fictional - and real - trans women, being murdered. No matter the outcome, Catherine: Full Body never makes up for its biggest mistakes. Obviously it's important to consider the cultural definitions of LGBTQ+ identities in Japan and how they might be portrayed in media, but it shouldn't excuse damaging depictions like this, more so when games are knowingly developed with a global audience in mind.
Going back in time to Persona 4, Atlus once again saw itself falling victim to painful cliches and harmful tropes associated with queer individuals. Kanji Tatsumi’s character arc in Persona 4 has him shedding his tough guy persona in favour of something softer, while simultaneously accepting his bisexuality and attraction to both genders. It’s a touching realisation on the surface, but dialogue focused on gay panic rob it of so much substance. Persona 3 has a scene taking place on a beach where a trans woman is depicted as a sexual predator, outed when a piece of stubble is noticed by the other characters.
Persona 5 isn’t outwardly transphobic or homophobic, though one scene in the original release has Ryuji being pursued by two homosexual men shown as sexual deviants. It’s crass and outdated, and with all of these games having the same director, it’s an uncomfortable pattern of bigotry that has become increasingly difficult to ignore. There’s a worrying trend here, one that is further solidified when you consider Persona’s troubling depiction of women and how it struggles to provide them with agency that isn’t tied to their figure, sex appeal, or relationship to a male character. There’s some bright spots to be found, but these pale in comparison to the grossness found throughout so many of these games.
When Catherine: Full Body was first revealed, its marketing centered around Rin’s true identity. Much of the art saw her skirt being lifted into the air, held in place by her hands and mouth as attention was deliberately drawn to her genitals. We obviously couldn’t see the full picture, but it was so easy to tell that trans panic was going to be incorporated into her story in a way that was lazy and hurtful. I said as much at the time, and was right, even if it didn’t venture to the worst places it could have done.
But it still sucks, and the fact Atlus clearly flirts with the idea of queer representation and even incorporates such identities into its roster of heroes, it also seems just as willing to label them as outcasts or make fun of them in service of a cheap joke. Persona will celebrate its 25th anniversary later this year, and I hope looking back on this legacy will remind Atlus how badly it needs to move forward when it comes to doing justice for LGBTQ+ people, and to stop treating them as a punchline.
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