7 min read
I’m not very good at talking about myself in this way, but I’ll try…
Hello, I’m Tyson Matsuki — or if we know each other in real life, you can call me [REDACTED]. I’m a creative who dabbles in many forms of creative endeavors; nowadays, the ‘blogger’ label applies, though I prefer ‘writer’ instead. My journey, born of a necessity to express myself in ways I’m not able to by striking up conversation, dates back to when I was a kid.
Way back then, I took to drawing as a pastime, with paper and pencil being my tools of the trade. My mom was strict with computer/video game screen time, and every time I overdid it, the ‘game room’ was closed under lock and key. With nothing to do, I took to an old blue see-through clipboard and started drawing. With time, I got somewhat good at it. My parents even paid for manga drawing classes, which were based on Akira Toriyama’s drawing style. I may have drawn the occasional Dragon Ball fan art, but I was mostly inside my head, taking what I’ve seen as inspiration to make something that’s mine.
As a Rurouni Kenshin watcher, I grew up thinking swords were cool. I also had a thing for ninjas: the ones all draped in black, sneaking in darkness, taking out targets silently. The first Tenchu game may have led to this obsession? I don’t even remember if I played it, to be honest. Those, alongside many other sources of inspiration, came together to create what became my first original character with a somewhat established backstory: Tyson Matsuki. Living in a nameless city in a modern setting, he works as an assassin-for-hire in the underworld. He eventually is tapped to take out the main character in a story I was writing. As I love morally ambiguous characters — it’s why I like Riku over Sora, despite y’know, ‘chemicalsora’ — Tyson is an embodiment of this trope. Can I still draw him today? Maybe. Not off memory, though: I’d need to reference his older drawings!
(Click on the image to see a bigger version)
When I was not thinking of original storylines, the rest of my early artwork was recreating screenshots I saw from a variety of first-person shooter games. I was hugely into the genre, with Perfect Dark and the early EA Bond games having a particular impact. In the case of the former specifically, I had this crazy idea of pitching a sequel to Rareware, based on a comic included in the strategy guide! Wrote a scenario, how it’d play in-game, the weapons, and I even tried to make a rendition of how a pause menu would look… in RPG Maker, no less. Of course, this was all before Perfect Dark Zero, and I never went anywhere with it — just a teenager with wild dreams. I’d drift away from art altogether; I tried digital artwork, but I could never take to it despite being decent at Photoshop. Put simply, I didn’t see an art career in my future.
Instead, I went to college for a communications degree. I saw in such a career path the means with which I could learn the skills to be a better speaker, not only to address a mass audience, but also as a confidence booster to do so more in private. Journalism and publicity were the two hot sub-specialties in the department, and many in the group I entered went in either direction, but I chose radio. There was an allure in the mystique of a voice without a face, allowing one to exist completely anonymously, straddling the line between public and private life if desired. While still in college, I discovered podcasting — a new medium that captured that same appeal. Eager to experiment, The F*** Yeah CODcast, a podcast that covered the Call of Duty series, was born. Outside of covering news and updates, it’d score interviews with key people in the COD community before its eventual ending in 2013.
Despite this early podcasting success, my insecurity got the best of me. What should’ve been a four-year degree took me six. The reason? I diverged into business administration, and as soon as the accounting classes began, I went back to my original department. I was getting tired of school, and against the recommendations of some of my professors, I called it quits after I got my bachelor’s. It was time to find a job and earn a living — but it won’t be in radio. I’m just another statistic in the ‘college-educated millennials who don’t work in their field of study’ chart.
A year after the COD podcast ended, I was tapped to help launch an anime podcast, which eventually became Get a Life Podcast Kunai. I, alongside the network founder and a guy I recommended, discussed anime as if we were seeing it for the first time — and it was for the most part! Whenever I was not japing with the others, I fancied myself a critic, bringing factoids to the table for which I often got justifiably told off for: we’re an anime podcast, not a manga/light novel/game one! Some time into its run, we’d get a fourth host, as the founder planned to step back and let us run the show. Instead, I was the one who left, as my transition to office work meant I could no longer give the project the time it required. Nowadays, the podcast has rebranded to Animation Station, with the founder being the only one remaining of the original crew. Though I am no longer part of that project, the fact that something I helped create is still going on a decade later fills me with joy.
I couldn’t stay out of the trenches for long. I gave YouTube a go, with varying levels of success. I must’ve tried every popular format which didn’t involve showing myself on camera, only to find that my passion lay in critical looks on media and elaborate productions which emulate some I like to watch. Impressions, Shadow One-Step, FAMAS… even vlogs on the Crunchyroll Expo conventions I attended! Little did I know those would be my swan songs — I had ideas of what I wanted to do, but I had no time and, perhaps more crucially, no motivation.
This website was originally opened in the days when I toiled away at YouTube as a portfolio. My economic situation mandated deep cuts in my expenses; after years of this site just being there, if I wasn’t going to use it, I’d have to cut my losses. Writing is the aspect of video production I enjoyed the least, but when faced with an uphill battle getting back into video making and podcasting, what else is there for me? I gave writing a go, thinking this new obsession would be a fleeting one once I got to the meat and potatoes. Since then, I’ve sacrificed game time to writing sessions, as I sort the mess that is my mind in prose. I’m content: I get to critique media once more, putting my overthinking nature to good use. I may not be a wordsmith yet, but maybe I’ll stumble my way into becoming one?
For now, I’ll continue this effort and see where it takes me. I hope you'll join me on this journey and find something worth coming back for.