“T” Talk: A Chill but Deep Dive into Keita Takahashi’s Newest Game to a T with Katamari Damacy Creator Keita Takahashi and Game Genome Director Shinichiro Hiramoto.

Globally renowned for his work on Katamari Damacy and other titles, game designer Keita Takahashi is back with his latest release, to a T, now available on PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S, and PC.

Staying true to Takahashi’s signature style—laid-back yet strangely addictive worlds and delightfully quirky game design—to a T is no exception. The game follows the daily adventures of “Teen,” a protagonist who lives life stuck in a T-pose, and the many colorful characters around them.

So, what exactly lies at the heart of Takahashi’s whimsical worldview? While briefly back in Japan from his home in San Francisco, Takahashi sat down for a special conversation with Shinichiro Hiramoto, director of Game Genome, a TV program that dives deep into games from every era and genre.

We’re excited to share their uniquely mellow yet thought-provoking discussion.

Please note: This interview contains minor spoilers for to a T, so read with care if you haven’t played the game yet.

Keita Takahashi

Game Designer. After creating titles such as Katamari Damacy and Noby Noby Boy, Takahashi expanded his work internationally, going on to develop Wattam and other projects. He is known for his imaginative worlds and unconventional game design. His latest title, to a T, was developed by his own studio, uvula. (Referred to as “Takahashi” below.)

Shinichiro Hiramoto

Chief Director and Director of NHK’s Game Genome. Hiramoto has produced numerous game-related programs for NHK, including the radio show HideRaji ∞, NEW GAME + at TGS2024, and the NHK Special Games x Humanity. (Referred to as “Hiramoto” below.)

“I played Katamari Damacy so much I nearly broke my analog stick.”

—This is your first time meeting each other, right? But I heard there was talk about possibly featuring Takahashi-san on Game Genome at one point?

Hiramoto: Yes, that’s right. I’ve known of Takahashi-san as a creator since I was a kid. I played Katamari Damacy so much, I honestly thought I might break my analog stick from overuse!

Right now at NHK, I’m working on a show called Game Genome, where we take a close and honest look at individual games. When we were still in the pilot phase—back when we were asking to make “just one episode”—I actually included Katamari Damacy in my proposed lineup of future titles to feature.

So about two years ago, I started asking around, like, “Does anyone know how I could get in touch with Takahashi-san?” Unfortunately, the timing didn’t quite work out back then, but now, thanks to a lucky turn of fate, I finally get to meet him today.

—Two years ago would place us where in the development cycle of to a T?

Takahashi: Oh, we were definitely deep in development. to a T got delayed two or three times, and I was basically racing to meet deadlines year after year. So I think when I got the offer, I just didn’t have any bandwidth left. I probably even said something like, “Wouldn’t Ueda-san be a better fit?”—you know, Fumito Ueda, the guy behind ICO and Shadow of the Colossus.

Hiramoto: From the show's perspective, we were really hoping to have Takahashi-san visit the studio and speak with us in person. But since that wasn’t possible at the time, I believe we ended up saying something like, “Hopefully we can reach out again at a better time.”

“A game that makes you curious about its creator”

—Hiramoto-san, what was your impression of Katamari Damacy and of Takahashi-san as a creator? 

Hiramoto: Hmm, it’s a little hard to explain, but for me, there are games where I become curious about the creator behind them, and games where I don’t. Not that one is better than the other, of course—but Katamari Damacy was definitely one of the games that made me very curious.

As I read through Famitsu articles and looked deeper into the game, I kept thinking, “How on earth did Takahashi-san come up with this?” The whole idea of rolling a ball and growing it by collecting objects—it felt totally new, unlike anything I’d seen before. And at the same time, it was actually a pretty challenging game if you tried to master it.

Even beyond that, it had a colorful and pop-art style, with easy-to-understand gameplay—roll things up and grow bigger—but underneath, there were also some surprisingly sharp edges. Like the slightly tense dynamic between the Prince and the King, for example.

I really got the impression that this was the work of someone with a very unique perspective, someone who set out to make a game for their own distinct reasons. And when I played to a T, I honestly felt the exact same way. While I was playing, I kept thinking, “Where does this kind of idea even come from?”

"Game Genome: Taking Games Seriously" 

—Takahashi-san, have you seen any episodes of Game Genome?

Takahashi: Yeah, I watched the Street Fighter episode. I was honestly blown away—like, wow, games are getting this kind of treatment on NHK now? That’s so 21st century! It really left an impression on me.

Hiramoto: Thank you so much!

The concept behind the show is to treat games with seriousness and respect. We wanted to approach them head-on, in a thoughtful way—like, “This is how this system works, this is the history behind it, and maybe this is how players feel when they experience it.” I felt like there hadn’t really been a show that tackled games from that angle, so that’s how it all started.

Games, of course, can just be fun for the sake of fun, and that’s perfectly fine. But we wanted to try taking that fun and talking about it in a more serious, analytical way. What did you think of that approach?

Takahashi: Ah, well... I did think, “Yeah, of course there are some things they’re not allowed to say!” (laughs) But yeah, that makes sense.

Still, making games is hard, and I’m sure there were times when the devs just wanted to quit. So I was kind of hoping the show would dig into that internal struggle creators go through—like, “Am I doing this because I really want to? Or just because the company told me to?”

I’d love to hear that side of things… though I’m sure nobody could actually say that stuff on camera. (laughs)

A Strange Game Where “Strangeness” Becomes the Norm 

—Hiramoto-san, what were your thoughts after playing to a T?

Hiramoto: Well… how should I put this? I just really thought, “This is a strange game.”

Takahashi: (looking surprised) Really? You found it strange…?

Hiramoto: Yes—and actually, I’ve been thinking about how to explain that “strangeness” properly today.

What struck me first was that this is really a game about noticing things.

As you follow Teen’s daily life, I think you start to project your own sense of values onto the experience. At first, there’s this little sense of discomfort—like, “Why the T-pose?” or “Why do I suddenly get stuck on the way out of the room and have to push the stick just to exit?”

And then you realize, “Oh, right, because they always live in that pose.” Like how Teen uses their foot to close the door—because of course, their hands are always sticking out. Those little details really stood out to me.

Hiramoto: Then there’s that scene where Teen eats cereal, and after that, they go to school and get picked on a little.

From the very beginning, the protagonist’s whole setup feels kind of mysterious in all sorts of subtle ways, so there’s an initial sense of surprise.

But as you interact with Teen—eating cereal, brushing their teeth, wiping the sleep from their eyes—you begin to experience their routine firsthand.

At first, there’s a bit of confusion or hesitation, but gradually, as you become Teen, things start to make more sense.

Hiramoto: And then you start to notice even more things—like how there are giraffes just casually living in the town as regular residents.

It’s a world where that kind of thing is totally normal, and yet for some reason, only Teen gets made fun of for being in a T-pose. That contrast felt really curious to me.

At the same time, I also thought, “Teen has their own biases too.”

I’m the kind of person who likes to talk to every single NPC in an RPG, so I did that here as well—and at one point, Teen asks someone with a traditional-looking topknot hairstyle, “Are you a samurai?”

And the person replies, “No, I just like wearing my hair this way.”

So even Teen is making assumptions based on appearances, right?

But I think that’s what makes it special—you slowly begin to realize that everyone has their own version of what’s “normal” or “obvious thing,” and that those versions are all different. That discovery, little by little, made for a really beautiful experience.

Hiramoto: As the game goes on, being in a T-pose gradually starts to feel completely normal to the player.

The story opens up, you gain new companions, and the scope of play expands—so all the confusion and discomfort you might’ve felt at the beginning just kind of… fades away. It becomes part of your “normal.”

Then, when you finish the game and return to your everyday life, you start to think: “So what is considered normal or biased in the world around me?”

It really made me pause and reflect for a moment.

Maybe that’s just how I felt—am I on the right track here?

Takahashi: Thank you.

Everyone experiences it differently, and there’s no such thing as a “right” interpretation, you know?

—Earlier, when Hiramoto-san described the game as “strange,” you seemed a little surprised. Almost like, “Oh, that’s how it comes across?”

Takahashi: Yeah, I’ve done a lot of interviews at this point, and people often say, “It’s such a weird game,” but honestly, to me, this one is the most straightforward and “normal” game I’ve made so far—at least in terms of the setting.

Well, I don’t really like the word normal, but I didn’t feel like I was making something particularly strange this time.

Not that I took it negatively or anything! I get that people might wonder, “Why are there giraffes?” or “Why is there a giant pigeon?”—but, there are people who kind of feel like giraffes, right? Or you see someone and think, “This person’s kinda like a hippo,” or “That guy with the cap reminds me of a pigeon.” It’s not exactly anthropomorphism, but that kind of thinking just feels natural to me.

And, you know, I’m getting older—I don’t know how many more games I’ll be able to make. So this time I thought, “Why not just do it the way I want to?” Instead of putting weird restrictions on myself, I decided to just express what I wanted to express.

In that sense, I think I lifted some of the limits I used to put on myself.

— I think it sounds weird for me that the game be more less strange and straightforward If you remove your limiter.

Takahashi: Ah… back in university, I studied sculpture. And even then—actually, from the moment I got there—I kept thinking, “Sculpture is so... unnecessary.” But I still really enjoyed making three-dimensional objects. So I spent four years wrestling with this big question: What would justify me making things? What would give me permission to create?

And the answer I came to was: Maybe I can make things that make people smile.

I didn’t want to become an “artist,” so I also looked for a regular job. I thought, “What kind of industry would let me create things that bring people joy?”

And I landed on video games. Then I actually joined the game industry and… it was totally different from what I’d imagined. (laughs)

This was around 1999, and even back then, I felt like every game looked the same. But I thought, “Well, I’ve made it into the industry, so it’d be a waste if I didn’t actually make games—not just art.”

So even though I had zero experience making games, I started coming up with ideas from the very beginning. At the time, I kept asking myself, “What is a game?” And my belief was that the heart of it had to be interactive. Unless you nailed that, it wouldn’t be a good game. That’s how I saw it.

So I focused on what I call “verb games”—games like Katamari Damacy, Noby Noby Boy, and others, where the core is rolling, pulling, stretching—actions like that. But after I finished Wattam in 2019, I started remembering those struggles I had in university. And I realized—what I really wanted wasn’t about the mechanics. It was more important to me to make people smile. I started thinking, 'Maybe I was cursed all this time - the curse of "interactivity."

Takahashi: So yeah, I decided to go back to my roots—not worrying too much about mechanics or genre or any of that—and just do what I really wanted to do. That’s basically how this project came to be.

—And how do you feel after hearing that explanation, Hiramoto-san?

Hiramoto: Well, most games can be neatly categorized by genre, and that usually helps people understand them.

But with to a T, aside from the idea that you’re experiencing everyday life as Teen, it doesn’t quite fit into a label like “this kind of action game” or “this kind of adventure game.”

That’s why I felt it was such a unique and unusual game.

A World Where All Kinds of People Exist Naturally and What Adults Can Do for Teen / Kids

—Like how there’s suddenly a giraffe around—it’s things like that, or the moment you realize, “Oh, this animal can talk,” where I really feel your personality as a creator shining through. But I also find myself wondering how you go about building a world like this.

Takahashi: I remember saying this in an interview a long time ago: I’m not really the type to come up with clever game mechanics. What I am good at is creating worlds. That’s more my strength.

—Yes, I remember. That was at PAX—PAX East 2018 in Boston, right?

Takahashi: The things that influence me really just come from everyday life…

Like, the idea of a giraffe selling sandwiches in town—that came from my simple desire to know what animals are thinking. I wanted to talk to them. And since there are people out there who kind of resemble giraffes, I just thought, “Why not put them in the game?” It was really that casual.

I don’t think it’s quite right to wrap this up in big words like diversity. But growing up, I was taught that the kanji character for “person” (人) is made up of two people supporting each other. So when I see the world moving toward exclusion or pushing people away, I can’t help but feel uncomfortable with that.

—At first, I was thinking things like, “Is this a metaphor for disability?” or “Since it’s called to a T, is it referencing transgender identity?” But then, perspectives like the dog’s or the mother’s come into play, and it starts to feel more universal. In the end, I experienced it as the story of a single person named Teen—and that message of ‘It’s good for the world to have all kinds of people’ really resonated with me. That balance is what impressed me the most.

Takahashi: Yeah. That’s not the only theme, after all.

—Exactly. I think the fact that it wasn’t just about that is what made it work so well.

Takahashi: Right. Even now, if someone asked me what I really wanted to say with this game, I don’t think I could give a clear answer. There’s a lot packed in there.

But one big thing for me was this sense of guilt toward the next generation.

I came across posts on social media—mostly from Gen Z—saying things like, “The environment’s already falling apart. I don’t want to bring children into a world like this.” And it really shocked me.

And it made me ask myself, as someone in my 50s: What have I actually done about this?

I’m not trying to speak for young people or anything—not at all.

But I felt like, as a human being, if I didn’t at least try to reflect something of what kids are saying in my work, then I’d be doing them a disservice. That’s part of why I made the main character a teenager.

And maybe, just maybe, someone who plays this game will notice something… and do something, even a small thing, for the next generation. I know that’s an irresponsible hope, but it’s there. There’s a clothing shop in the town—you can buy stuff there. But from a gameplay perspective, it’s not really necessary at all.

The only reason I left it in was because I wanted Teen to say, near the end of the game, “I’m a middle schooler—I just want to hang out and wander around town with my friends.”

I hate the idea of a future where things like that—things we take for granted now—can’t be done anymore.

Hiramoto: Every era is complicated in its own way, but I feel like in today’s world—with so many things that make you go, “Wait, is this really okay?”—I often find myself reflecting on the very same kinds of issues Takahashi-san just mentioned.

From the perspective of children, I just really hope the world isn’t too cruel.

Whether it’s through politics, education, games, entertainment, or the arts—there are many different ways to shape a better society.

Of course, mass media like us also carry a major responsibility.

What really struck me when playing to a T, though—and this hit me in a very simple but powerful way—was how the game is presented in episodes.

With the opening and ending theme songs playing, it felt like, “Ah, I’m allowed to receive this as a story.”

Earlier I said it’s a game where you “live out everyday life as Teen,” but in another sense, it’s also a narrative—almost like a modern-day fairy tale.

And I really felt there’s something very Takahashi-esque in how the game gently offers these moments of reflection—not in a heavy-handed way, but more like, “Some players might pick up on this here.”

Then it all wraps up at the end—the final episode closes, a circle fades in, and the ending theme plays.

I was actually worrying yesterday if this might come off the wrong way, but… it kind of has an E-Tele vibe, you know?

(Note: E-Tele is NHK’s educational TV channel in Japan, known for thoughtful, gentle, and often heartwarming programming.)

That E-Tele Vibe — Could This Be a TV Show Someday? 

—to a T is a standalone, one-time purchase game, but with subscription-based streaming services like Netflix getting into interactive content, I thought… wouldn’t it be amazing if this game just quietly found its way into people’s daily lives? Like, one day your kid is just playing it without you even realizing. Have you ever thought about expanding it—like creating more episodes or stories?

Takahashi: Definitely. That’s actually what I’d love to do.

What’s out there now is just the intro—I think it’d be really fun to take the story in different directions and expand it from there.

Hiramoto: I’d love to see that!

Honestly, if television were just a little more interactive, this could work exactly as-is.

I found myself thinking, “This should totally be on E-Tele—with a controller attached!” (laughs)

And I realized why I felt that way: the people in to a T’s world—they’re all kind of selfish, in a way.

They all do what they want to do, and sure, it doesn’t always work out.

Like the guy who thought it was a great idea to build a store on the ocean… but then no customers came.

But sometimes, things you wrote off as silly or strange suddenly seem… kind of cool.

People realize, “I can’t do that,” or “That’s not for me,” and then accept each other and just hang out and have fun together.

I really don't like using this word, but I found something like an educational feel from the game.

It really gives off that thoughtful, gentle E-Tele feeling.

—Like, you’d think you’re just watching a CG-animated show, and then someone goes, “Wait, this was actually a game originally?”

Hiramoto: Exactly.

If the game is like Season 1, then maybe Season 2 could be a TV show… and Season 3 could be another game.

I think that’d be really interesting.

Takahashi: Let’s do it! You’re a director—you can make it happen, right? (laughs)

Hiramoto: People will just say, “There goes Hiramoto again, talking nonsense…” (laughs)

But maybe that’s okay. I’ll think about it. (Takahashi: “Think about it a lot.”)

You’re right—I’ll think about it a lot. (laughs)

A Commitment to the “Unnecessary” 

—to a T seems to offer so many moments of realization—because you’re constantly seeing things from different perspectives.

Hiramoto: Absolutely. Something that seems strange or awkward to others at first can, depending on the situation or relationship, suddenly be seen as something valid or even admirable.

And the opposite can also happen—something you were once proud of might be completely overlooked in a different context. That happens a lot in real life too, I think.

So within the story, there are all these little moments of realization. And when I got to the part where you obtain the unicycle, I genuinely thought,

“Takahashi-san is a genius.”

Because when Teen gets on it, they naturally hold out their arms like this—into a T-pose. And I thought,

“Of course, that’s consistency and that makes perfect sense! That’s how we all balance on a unicycle!”

Sure, in most games when you get a vehicle, it just means you can move faster or something. But here, it fits so perfectly—so seamlessly—that I thought,

“Has any game ever done this with this much precision?”

Takahashi: You’re overthinking it. And I mean—just the word “consistency” is hilarious! (laughs)

Hiramoto: No, seriously—I was honestly amazed at how perfectly the T in “Teen” came together there. Up until that point, Teen had been struggling just to eat cereal, and then suddenly on the unicycle, it’s like, “Oh! Of course they ride it like this”—arms outstretched, no problem balancing.

It’s never explicitly explained, but moments like that really make you realize things as you go.

Sorry, I’m probably rambling. (laughs)

Takahashi: No, no, not at all. You know how when you open the pose menu, a bird comes and lands on Teen’s arm? At one point, that feature had so many bugs that the team said, “Let’s cut it.” But I completely refused.

That moment—where Teen might not be accepted by people because of the T-pose, but is accepted by a bird looking for a perch—that felt precious to me. There’s no way I was going to remove something like that.

Takahashi: Yeah, there were actually a lot of things like that—things that technically had nothing to do with the gameplay, but I still thought, “There’s no way we’re cutting this.”

Originally, I even had this idea where different birds would show up depending on the location, and you could try to find rare ones.

It’s stuff like that—these silly, “unnecessary” ideas—that make me want to make games in the first place. But it’s really hard to pull them off. Honestly, I envy AAA titles. They get to spend time on that kind of “useless” stuff.

—But the trade-off is that they usually have to give up other kinds of freedom.

Changing the topic a bit—some reviews mentioned that the fixed camera made the game a bit difficult to play.

Takahashi: Ah, the camera… yeah, I totally get that it’s not perfect. We struggled with it a lot, and I know it could still be tuned better. But to be honest, I really don’t like how the right analog stick is automatically expected to control the camera.

That kind of fixed convention—I’m still trying to resist it. If I had a better idea—something that really worked and made sense—it wouldn’t come off sounding like an excuse, I guess.

We had a similar thing with Wattam, too.

I actually forget how the camera worked in that one (laughs)—I think it was zoom with L1/R1 and rotate with L2/R2 if you were using a PlayStation controller.

But yeah, instead of using the right stick for the camera, you used it to select which character you wanted to control.

Takahashi: Ever since back then, I’ve had this strong reaction—like, the moment I see a game where the camera follows the character from behind, I immediately think,

“Ugh, I don’t want to play this at all.”

I really wish we’d move past that kind of standard format already. I get it, though—I really do. There’s something to be said for those easy-to-understand systems:

“Press this to punch,” “Press that to jump.”

But at the same time, I always feel a bit sad when games just adopt those standard formats without question—because in doing so, they’re also locking down how the game is played. There’s so much more room for different possibilities, and I wish we explored that more.

—Personally, I actually liked the camera angles a lot. I thought they were stylish.

Takahashi: Well, yeah—there are definitely some good parts.

But even when I’m playing it myself, I find areas where I think, “Ugh, I don’t like how this turned out.”

I still believe there’s probably a better way to do things.

Hiramoto: I really liked it, too. The visual presentation felt like a picture book or fairy tale. You’re still controlling Teen interactively as a game, of course, but that side-scrolling view of Teen heading to school felt very similar to how we create scenes in visual media. And the fact that it’s seamless—not a cutscene—you still have full control over Teen… I thought that was really special.

Takahashi: Thank you. I’m glad to hear that.

—Like that one scene on the way to school—if you step off the path, the camera doesn’t follow you, and Teen just keeps getting farther and farther away. That was such an interesting moment.

Hiramoto: Yes, exactly. I remember thinking, “Oh, this must be one of those scenes,” and trying it out. It was really beautiful.

—And during conversation scenes, you can switch the camera angle between Teen and the person they’re talking to, right?

Hiramoto: That surprised me, too.

Takahashi: Wait, why? Why was that surprising?

Hiramoto: Because it’s not something you normally see in games. You don’t switch back and forth constantly, but during moments like a conversation with the giraffe—when the giraffe really wants to say something to Teen—switching the view totally changes the tone. It really caught me off guard—in a good way. And the fact that the player gets to choose whether or not to switch… that was a really clever touch.

—It’s almost like a “director’s cut”—or maybe more like a “self-cut”—where you naturally start choosing the camera angles that feel right to you.

Takahashi: Huh, that’s interesting. For me, that just felt like the obvious thing to do—like, “Well, of course you’d design it that way.” So I’m kind of surprised people found it unusual.

I remember a foreign media outlet once asked me, “Why are your games always so different?” And I said, “Maybe it’s because I don’t play games?” And they went, “Yeah… that checks out.” (laughs)

I guess I really don’t know what’s considered standard or not. But one thing I did know is how adventure games usually display dialogue in a fixed text window.

And I didn’t want that—I wanted speech bubbles, because I love manga. But that meant we had to carefully consider layout and camera angles for every single scene, and it turned into a huge challenge.

—And yet, you still decided to include the ability to switch camera angles during conversations.

Takahashi: Right.

Earlier I mentioned that I’ve been under the “curse of interactivity,” but I do still worry a bit when there’s a lot of dialogue. If the player’s just sitting there watching and can’t do anything, it might feel boring. So I wanted to make sure they could still interact somehow.

Turning Everyday Life into Gameplay 

—And that’s probably why players end up engaging in their own ways—like choosing the “right” camera angle, or deciding whether or not to do small things like cleaning your eyes.

At first you have to do it, but later on it becomes optional. And even though you can skip it, you start wondering, “Wait… I didn’t clean my eyes. Can people tell? Are they judging me?” There’s this subtle tension that makes it oddly fun.

Takahashi: I didn’t want to force those actions on the player. And like the mom says in the game, “You’re thirteen—you’re old enough to decide for yourself.” That’s kind of the core message from me, personally.

—It’s funny, because I ended up doing things in-game that I don’t even do regularly in real life.

How about you, Hiramoto-san?

Hiramoto: I did it every time. Because in one episode, there’s this really emotional moment with Teen and their friends—and I suddenly noticed the gunk in Teen’s eyes and couldn’t unsee it. Teenage years are all about figuring out what you can do, what you want to do, what you can’t do…

And sometimes you have people around who say, “Just do whatever feels right.” It’s a messy time. Most of the time, you fail and regret things.

So for me, as a player who felt halfway like Teen, seeing that moment—having that regret like, “Ah, I should’ve cleaned my eyes…”—that hit me in a very teenage way. And the fact that a game can express that—through something as small as eye gunk—I just thought, “Only Takahashi-san could come up with that.”

—What made you want to include actions like washing your face or brushing your teeth?

Takahashi: Most games are about pressing a button to perform an action, right? Jump, punch, kick, shoot—simple, quick stuff. And that’s totally fine! But when it comes to representing daily actions—like eating or brushing your teeth—I always felt that was really hard to do in games.

They’re so complicated to animate, and honestly, the payoff isn’t even that exciting.

Like, you reach out with one hand to grab the toothpaste, open the cap, set it down, grab the toothbrush with the other hand, squeeze out the toothpaste… That alone takes an engineer and an animator like three or four months to finish.

Takahashi: And the thing is, these kinds of sequences can only really be done in a fixed order. You can’t stop halfway and do something else instead—that just wasn’t technically possible. But I really wanted to express how complex these everyday actions are, and recreate them inside a game.

It was like I had this competitive urge: I wanted to “win” with actions that weren’t about kicking, punching, or killing. But the sad part is, those actions don’t give you catharsis.

Like, in dodgeball, it’s a bit like a shooter—you aim, you hit, and you get that thrill. But brushing your teeth doesn’t really give you that kind of payoff.

Then I had the idea to tie it all into the T-pose—if Teen’s arms are already stretched out, maybe we could simplify the complex movements, and by adding just a little “game-ness” to it, maybe we could make it work as a compelling mechanic.

I don’t think brushing your teeth or washing your face really counts as a “new expression” in gaming, but… maybe it expands the possibilities a little.

We tried it—and it ended up taking the most time of all. Ideally, even for breakfast, I wanted players to be able to grab the milk and cereal box, pour them, stop midway if they wanted, taste it and think, “Yeah, I want more”—just make it that flexible. But if we’d gone that far, we’d never have finished development. It’d just become a breakfast simulator.

—But I loved how when you're pouring the cereal and think, “That’s probably enough,” Teen goes, “More,” and you just instinctively keep pouring. It’s such a charming moment.

Takahashi: That’s one of those things I can’t fully explain. Even as I was making it, I’d find myself going, “Yeah, totally.” It’s hard to put into words, but it just feels right, you know?

—Hiramoto-san, were there any other moments that felt strange or unexpected to you? Did you notice that you can still play during the end credits?

Hiramoto: What?! I didn’t realize! I was just sitting there, taking it all in—feeling emotional. (laughs)

Takahashi: You remember how the credits start rolling after the story ends, right?

That whole part is actually interactive—you’re still playing for the entire 3 minutes or so while the theme song plays.

It’s a series of short cuts—brushing teeth, getting dressed, and so on. Because it’s a narrative-driven game, I really struggled with how to end it. In a typical “game-game,” you want to wrap things up with a satisfying moment. And I wanted the player to be in control all the way to the end.

Like I said—I’m still under the curse of interactivity. At first, I thought I’d just end with a simple cutscene, but as the second half of the game became more cinematic, I started to feel uneasy.

So I asked our engineers—no, insisted—that we connect everything seamlessly. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have felt right as a complete package.

“I Didn’t Want Teen’s T-Pose to Be Seen as Special”

Takahashi: Were there any moments in the story you found just plain bizarre?

Like how Teen’s dad turns out to be an alien—or that he used to be a hammer throw athlete?

Hiramoto: Honestly, by that point I was already numb to it. (Takahashi: “Desensitized?”)

Yeah, totally desensitized.

in your games, you never know which part of your body is going to get metaphorically stabbed from what angle—so I always come in expecting the unexpected.

But this time, the concept itself was already so unique and pop-styled that, as I went along and kept noticing all these little things, my own sense of reality started syncing with the game’s.

By the time those twists came, it just felt natural. (laughs) Maybe not exactly like, “I knew it!”—but more like, “Ah, so that’s what was going on. Yeah, that makes sense.”

Even the eccentric parts of the story felt grounded—like they were part of the same world.

Takahashi: That’s really interesting. I like that.

Hiramoto: Like near the beginning, when there’s a scene where a mushroom character is casually practicing black magic—and everyone around just acts like it’s completely normal.

At that point, I wasn’t ready yet, so I was like, “Wait, this is something we’re all just ignoring?” But by the midpoint, I had fully adapted. And I think that’s something this game changes in the player—the way you perceive things shifts as you go.

—I was honestly surprised that there was actually a reason behind why Teen is in a T-pose. I thought maybe it would never be explained at all.

Hiramoto: Same here. I figured it would just be treated as, “That’s just how things are,” and the game would move forward from there.

Takahashi: Oh, really? But in Episode 2, a meteor crashes and the windmill gets blown away, right? What did you think that was all about?

Hiramoto: Well, there’s that part where the mom says something like, “Maybe it’s time to tell them,” so I thought maybe that was a different thread being set up. But then, nothing really comes of it for a while, and instead, we get a lot of scenes focused on Teen’s emotional journey.

So I guess I kind of became desensitized to it—by that point, I had accepted Teen being in a T-pose as completely normal. Every time I launched the game, it didn’t even register as strange anymore. Then, when the narrative thread started getting picked back up, I thought, “Ah, this was foreshadowing all along.”

Takahashi: But you know, some people said they were disappointed that the significance of the T-pose or its gameplay elements faded over time.

I totally understand that—100%. But to me, Teen being in a T-pose was never meant to be something “special.” That’s just how they are. And while it might’ve made more sense as a game to build a mechanic around that until the very end, I didn’t choose to go that route narratively. Maybe that makes me a 50-point game designer, but that was the decision I made.

—But if you had kept highlighting it in the game systems, it might have actually felt less natural—especially since, in the story, Teen gradually becomes accepted, and even seen as cool for being in a T-pose.

Takahashi: Yeah, you might be right. Maybe there could’ve been a better way to tie it all together… Well, I’ll save that for next time. (laughs)

—As a player, I thought it was really fascinating how the T-pose gradually stopped being something that stood out. Like at the beginning, you get caught on door frames and try to adjust the angle like a puzzle. But toward the end, you’ve totally adapted—it just feels like part of everyday life.

Hiramoto: Yeah. You bump into classmates at school and feel kind of bad about it at first, but then you start getting better at dodging. It all becomes second nature. That consistency throughout the game felt very intentional to me.

Takahashi: I really appreciate that. It means a lot to know it came through even without needing to explain it.

Dog, the Ever-Reliable Partner

—And how about Dog? They felt like a really dependable companion throughout the game.

Hiramoto: That’s another example of Takahashi-san’s magic, I think. Teen gets teased for being in a T-pose, but giraffes and DJ pigeon are treated as totally normal.

It’s like the game world has a blend of what’s already been accepted and what hasn’t yet—and Dog moves right in between those two spaces.

They can’t speak human language, but to us players, they seem to say a lot. And then, later on, when the game shifts into Dog’s perspective and we realize they don’t understand human words after all—it kind of scrambles your brain in the best way.

From a gameplay perspective, too—while we may or may not feel emotionally connected to Teen at times, Dog’s behavior never changes. Sometimes there’s a speech bubble to guide us, but otherwise, all we get is “woof woof.” It’s such a universal yet ambiguous form of communication.

To me, Dog felt like a kind of symbolic bridge—someone who can sort of connect with you, but not entirely. Like, “This much can be shared, but no more.”

—Was Dog part of the game from the very beginning of development?

Takahashi: Actually, no.

At first, I had this idea where the mom was a DIY-savvy inventor who built robots to help Teen. But then I thought, “That’s boring. It doesn’t feel grounded at all.” Teen already being in a T-pose stretches believability, so I figured robots would just push it over the edge.

Then I remembered service dogs—like therapy or assistance animals—and thought, “That’s much more flexible… and cuter.” So we went with that instead.

—As Hiramoto-san mentioned earlier, the moment we realize Dog doesn’t understand human speech—it’s so obvious, but also kind of shocking.

Hiramoto: Yeah, but even so, there are still all these moments where we sense what the other person wants.

It’s like, “They probably want me to do this…”—that kind of unspoken communication. And that’s not just between people and dogs; it’s something that happens between humans too. In that sense, Dog feels like a symbol of how we don’t fully understand each other—but can still somehow manage to connect.

A Quiet Celebration of Humanity — “People Can Be Pretty Great, Actually” 

—Takahashi-san, is there anything you’d like to ask Hiramoto-san?

Takahashi: Which character did you like the most?

Hiramoto: Definitely the giraffe. The one who runs the sandwich shop. When the promo screenshots came out, there was one group shot—like a class photo—and the giraffe had its neck bent to fit into the frame.

Of course, it had to bend that way just to be visible in the picture. But somehow, that one little detail felt so full of meaning to me. You know how, when someone says, “Let’s take a picture!” there’s always that one tall person who crouches down a bit to fit in with everyone? That kind of gesture—there’s something really human about it. Something kind.

Hiramoto: When I played to a T, I felt like it was full of little realizations—things you might notice, and then it’s up to you whether or not to accept them.

What you like or dislike, what you value—those are personal choices, and that’s totally fine. But when it comes to someone wanting to be seen, or understood, or acknowledged—there are so many different ways to approach that.

This game really made me aware of that. Of course, Teen left the biggest impression on me. But even before the game launched, the one thing I kept thinking about was that giraffe—bending its neck in the group photo. I don’t know why, but I just felt like there was something deeply Takahashi-like in that gesture.

And also, after you change clothes, brush your teeth, and leave the house, the very first character you meet is the giraffe. That moment—where you go, “Wait, is that a giraffe?”—it’s kind of jarring. But right away, the game tells you, “Yeah, that’s normal here.” And that stuck with me.

Takahashi: I really liked the choir. And Wally Workman—the overworked demon guy. And those ninjas, too. They only show up once, and they were a ton of work for something so… unnecessary. But I love them. And the penguin! The one who’s training their arms because they want to fly.

I mean… what a deep message, right? (laughs)

Hiramoto: I also really loved how out there the teachers were—each and every one of them. Take Ms. Swan, for example. She has her students race a train as part of class—without any kind of explanation or justification.

She just goes, “Alright, let’s do it,” like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And the way she instantly projects her own dreams onto Teen—it’s so direct, almost hilariously so. I loved that.

Takahashi: They’re all just incredibly pure, you know?

Hiramoto: Absolutely.

I feel like every character in this game exists on that edge between purity and ego. They all speak honestly about what they want to do—or what they don’t want to do. That theme comes up again and again throughout the game: it’s okay to express yourself.

In that sense, you could argue that Teen is the one who starts out the most hesitant to do that. And it’s precisely those people around Teen—the ones with these incredibly pure, sometimes selfish desires—who say “Let’s do this!” the moment they have an idea, who bring about change and self-awareness, not just for Teen but for everyone.

Takahashi: Yeah. I deliberately chose to focus only on the good sides of people. It’s got a good vibe, you know? Like, “Humans are kind of awesome.”

Sure, we’re a bit crazy, but it’s understandable—and that’s worth celebrating. It’s a kind of quiet anthem to humanity: yes, we’re weird, but once you understand that, you start to think, “Hey, people are good.” Or maybe not just good—people can become good. We can enjoy life. We can grow.

Hiramoto: I’m not sure if it’s to a T, or the lingering influence of Katamari Damacy, which was my absolute favorite when I was a student…

But personally, I really hope we’ll have another opportunity to work together—maybe on Game Genome. I want to keep this program going as long as I can.

As for our next broadcast—we’ll be airing a special extended episode on EarthBound (MOTHER 2) on Sunday, July 27, 2025 (technically late Saturday night). If you have the chance, I’d love for you to watch it.

—And are there new developments coming for Game Genome as well?

Hiramoto: I can’t share the details just yet at the time of this article, but the Game Genome team is definitely working on something new for our viewers.

There are a few things in the works—and I think people will be pretty surprised. So please stay tuned!

Takahashi: Thank you very much. I had a great time.

Here is the Japanese version of the article.