So what is it that makes Dorohedoro’s fantastical worldbuilding so special? I was just discussing this with a friend, as in general, I feel like “emphasis on worldbuilding” tends to be one of anime’s greatest narrative weaknesses. Rather than focusing on an emotionally resonant human narrative, many shows focus entirely on scaffolding and set dressing, and yet I never feel genuinely entranced by their worlds. So where does Dorohedoro succeed where all these isekai and trapped-in-a-game shows fail?
Well, first of all, it helps a great deal that Dorohedoro has genuinely unique ideas. Systems of magic and videogame-reminiscent technology only feel fresh and engaging the first couple times; in contrast, Dorohedoro fills its every episode with marvelous incidental concepts like the Hell Toilet, and its worldbuilding never feels strictly derivative of other ideas. I admit that “have a lot of unique ideas” isn’t the most actionable writing advice, but it’s certainly an area where Q Hayashida shines.
But more fundamentally, what Hayashida understands is that great fantasy should stretch our minds and inspire us, not simply flatter our ability to understand mechanical systems. Dorohedoro’s fanciful worldbuilding isn’t designed to make its world understandable – in fact, it’s rather the opposite. Through its inexplicable setpieces and vaguely alluded-to rituals, Dorohedoro constantly pushes back against our ability to categorize and contain it, positing a world that is vaster than our ability to imagine it. Great fantasy offers not just marvelous adventures, but the promise of a world undefined, with dangling, inexplicable threads that capture our imagination, and ideas that remain in view but distant, vast monoliths implying more untold stories. That is what makes great fantasy special, and it’s a quality that Dorohedoro has in endless supply. Let’s delight in its riches once more then, as we bound through one more episode of Dorohedoro!
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