How Important Is It to Have Black Protagonists in Japanese-Style Comics and Media?
Famous YouTuber CoryxKenshin expands beyond YouTube gaming content to create his first manga series, "Monsters We Make."
By Chase Coulson
Monsters We Make | December 16, 2024 | IDW Publishing | Buy on bookshop.org
As a longtime fan of CoryxKenshin’s gaming content, I was thrilled when he announced his first manga, Monsters We Make. Known to over 20 million subscribers for his love of action-horror stories, creative energy, and humor, Cory devoted his attention, during a year-long hiatus, to creating his new manga series. This was huge for a fan like me, and for the manga and anime space. Cory had his own funding, grand ideas to expand his manga into a franchise and anime, plus a loyal fanbase that could support this process and see it through. Cory made the idea of a Black-led manga sound genuinely exciting, especially one centered on a prodigious young Black hero in a world of monsters and conspiracy.
So, how important is it to have Black protagonists in Japanese-style comics and media? I believe it’s undeniably important. It is as crucial to have culturally oppressed voices as protagonists in media, especially ones consumed globally, as it is to tell those stories with depth and originality. This level of Black representation matters because it allows young Black readers and viewers to see themselves as heroes in worlds where they’re often excluded. Cory’s narrative does a fantastic job of allowing Black readers to embody the sheer prowess and coolness of the main character, Jabari, in his unique and futuristic setting, while still feeling the familiarity of the Black experience in an occasionally unwelcoming society. Unfortunately, this piece isn’t perfect or too original, so let’s take a closer look at what it’s about and what it does well and poorly.
In 2114, when musical prodigy Jabari Booker attends the new, elitist university, New Edyn Academy, he gets caught in a conspiracy involving dangerous mutant creatures and a shady tech company named Sanada. The story follows Jabari and newfound friends as they go undercover to fight monsters with their advanced tech suits and try to uncover the secrets behind the academy and the company’s secret experiments…
What immediately works in this series is the hook: a gruesome foreshadowing horror-action piece that sets the bleak and exhilarating tone of this series. It establishes the central monster conflict and teases their larger significance and origin: stemming from humanity’s negative emotions and traumas. It immediately introduces us to the world of 2114, long after a world-altering crisis involving mutant creatures: Leakers. Society has rebuilt itself around two pillars: advanced, quasi-militarized tech, and elite institutions that filter talent early, meaning these cities aren’t just cities, but hubs of survival, training, and surveillance.
After the cold open, we meet Jabari, see his life, and begin to understand his backstory fairly quickly. Jabari has a supportive working-class family, an encouraging father who gives him a mantra relating to his “frequency” (as he likes to cope through music), and says that when he aligns with it, he becomes unstoppable. Later, as said by his teachers and peers after he passes a few tests of insane physical, mental, and academic prowess, Jabari is a “savant.” Though already hinted at, this is when he’s warned that the danger he’ll face lurking around every corner is terrifyingly normalized.
As Jabari settles into the academy, he meets a group of friends who quickly take him in. We meet Liam, the classic mysterious type, and the group leader who’s always calm and collected, even in intense fights. Then there’s September, the optimist and supportive girl who’s accepting and encouraging, the life of the group. Then Han, the tech genius. He’s a little clumsy and awkward, but his head’s in the right place. Lastly, there’s Alicent, the hot-head with a short fuse, and yet the secret glue that keeps them all together. Each of them differs greatly and possesses unique superpowered abilities through the tech suits that connect to their personas. For example, September has plant-controlling powers, and Jabari’s is music and sound-related. Their witty banter is engaging at times, too, especially during monster hunts, where it feels natural and fun. For example, later in the narrative, when they’re all hunting down a powerful Leaker, they get into a group scuffle after Jabari has his ‘power-up’ moment, embarrassing Alicent, the usual powerhouse of the group. She says aloud, “Fine, since I can’t punch someone that clearly deserves it-” Liam snaps back, “You’re not punching Jabari.” Jabari yells, “She Can Try!” And this goes on until the monster attacks them while they are distracted. The group dynamic shines as the story progresses, and so does the pacing. By the midpoint of Volume 1, the pacing picks up, and the story becomes more engaging. All in all, the action is exhilarating, the banter is quippy but borders on cliché, and the pacing is stellar toward the end.
Still, the series stumbles more often than it soars. For one, the main theme of this horror narrative is rather predictable. Readers will easily know what the title of the series actually represents around halfway through this volume. As for the action anime and manga viewers out there, like myself, it’ll be super familiar when it comes up. Monsters We Make clearly belongs to the shonen genre: action-driven manga and anime aimed at younger male audiences. It seems to draw heavily from series like Demon Slayer, Jujutsu Kaisen, Kaiju No. 8, World Trigger, and a bit of Chainsaw Man, but rarely transcends their narrative formulas. Half the time I was reading this manga, I was thinking to myself, “How is this any different from ____ series?” Similar dark themes, powers and abilities, monster origins, and character archetypes. If a reader simply loves cyberpunk/dystopian young adult action/horror, they’ll have a blast. But if one doesn’t know or like anime or manga, there are richer and more original narratives to choose from, even within the same genre as Monsters We Make.
With the cliché elements come curated and archetypal characters. Despite how much I liked each character, they feel designed to stand out, with few possessing real depth. Alicent is the greatest example. She’s the classic attractive, hot-headed, ‘strong’ character. Her main ability, literally called “raw power,” is a consistent trope in many mainstream anime and manga. Plus, Jabari feels too familiar with the “overpowered hero” trope. Seldom are his impressive moments earned, especially early on. Jabari even has an eerily analogous declaration of independence (after dealing with a micro-aggressive comment on the nature of his talent), saying, “Nah, I’ma do me,” mirroring Miles Morales’s defiance in Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, with his line, “Nah, I’ma do my own thing.” Where Miles’s moment feels earned after two films of growth, Jabari’s feels unoriginal and comes too early to resonate as it’s placed at the beginning of the story, and ultimately reads as a misunderstanding of what the opposing character said to him, rather than a clever response to subtle racism.
Even the designs of the characters and various panels throughout feel like they’re trying to stand out or be unique, though many seem to be common layouts in popular media. Each character design is reminiscent of mainstream shonen character models, and many panels are flashy, clearly copying famous panels in other manga and anime. I get that the inspiration comes from scenes in Dragon Ball: Z or Naruto, as Cory has referenced on YouTube many times, but a lot of these moments, especially during fight scenes, feel engineered to stand out or appeal to online virality rather than genuine storytelling. There are also scenes where characters act goofy in serious scenarios, and there are high-school anime clichés everywhere. Like the overly intense and challenging Dean, who’s hiding a big secret, and lacks subtext in her language, even revealing the biggest secret behind Jabari’s acceptance into the school in the first few chapters. Then there’s the savant rival character (that is, Liam), the attractive hot-head girl that the main character flirts with, etc. Often, exposition is also conveyed through heavy description and flashbacks, like in many other mainstream anime/manga.
There are plenty of “suspend your disbelief” moments, too, and while some are effective, many undermine the story’s originality and emotional impact. One moment, of many, is also one where the dialogue could be condensed and refined for more impact. When Jabari is talking to Han about his suit during a monster hunt at the end of the Volume, Han is concerned and impressed that Jabari was able to “Go max” with his first attack, implying Jabari did a powerful move that most people can’t do, even with years of training. The “overpowered hero whose strength eclipses their emotional growth” trope becomes obvious when Jabari responds with “Go Max? Honestly maxing out is all I know. I can’t hold back.” From what we know so far, this moment perpetuates Jabari’s inability to struggle with nearly anything he does or experiences.
Despite this, there are still standout moments. During the intense fight sequence towards the end of this Volume, where we get to see Liam let loose, he utters a line when beating the main monster who curses at them, saying, “...Cry some more…” To me, that response was fantastic, and his fight was a meaningful introduction to his true role in the narrative. It’s also a rare line that feels earned and perfectly delivered. Moments like this, and the group’s post-battle banter, show how strong the series could be when it relaxes into itself. Plus, Jabari is a fun character to watch succeed, that is, when he earns his impressive moments.
However, Black representation alone isn’t enough, no matter how “fun” the series can be. If Black-centered stories aren’t written with meticulousness, complexity, and authenticity, then that representation risks feeling performative. Though there are subtle moments of racial relevance in Jabari’s very realistic and sometimes troubling Black experiences, it feels like this takes a backseat to display the “mainstream” elements of the narrative, shoehorning a goal of intrigue to amass popularity over reflection. Though allowing Black identity to be the center of a manga-style story, a space traditionally dominated by Japanese or racially ambiguous characters, makes Monsters We Make a significant milestone in this media landscape. Still, for Black protagonists to truly matter in Japanese-style comics and media, they need stories that don’t just copy familiar formulas but challenge them; stories that redefine what meaningful strength, creativity, and humanity look like through a Black lens. Until then, their presence will feel more like a start than the cultural revolution I wished this manga Volume had better supported.
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Chase Coulson is a Hudson Valley, New York native currently based in Los Angeles. He’s a Junior studying creative writing and screenwriting at the University of Southern California (USC). Chase Coulson primarily writes Horror and Sci-Fi fiction.