A Deep Analysis of the Themes of *Made in Abyss*: What Makes This Work So Special

Among the many Japanese fantasy works, there is one that wraps an unfathomable darkness in a childlike, adorable art style, becoming an existence that both captivates and terrifies its audience. That work is Made in Abyss (來自深淵), based on the original manga by Akihito Tsukushi, directed by Masayuki Kojima, and produced by Kinema Citrus. From the first TV season in July 2017, to the 2020 film Dawn of the Deep Soul, and the second season The Golden City of the Scorching Sun in July 2022, it has not only earned exceptionally high ratings of 8.2 to 8.3 on communities like Bangumi, but the TV series also broke through the fierce competition in 2017 and has long held a place in the top 150 rankings. However, high scores alone are not enough to fully explain what makes this work so “special.” Its uniqueness lies in binding the “yearning for adventure” with the “fragility of the flesh,” creating a reading (or viewing) experience that belongs exclusively to the Abyss — irreplaceable and singular.

The Paradox of the Abyss: Both Dream and Curse

The world-building of Made in Abyss is not complex, yet it is profoundly compelling: in a world where everything else has been explored, there remains only one enormous vertical chasm called the Abyss. Within the Abyss live all manner of strange creatures, and slumbering there are “Relics” whose technology far surpasses that of modern humanity. This premise itself implies a vast literary duality — the Abyss is the only unknown, and therefore, the only hope.

Riko, the protagonist living in an orphanage at the edge of the Abyss, dreams of becoming a great “Cave Raider” like her mother Lyza. This seemingly typical, straightforward opening, under the guise of action-adventure and fantasy, actually conceals an unsettling reality: the Abyss has a deadly “Curse of Ascent.” From the first layer down to the legendary seventh layer, each layer inflicts a different curse reaction — from mild dizziness, to severe bodily pain and bleeding from every orifice, to “loss of humanity” or “last moments (Narehate)” from the sixth layer onward. This strict physical rule makes “delving downwards” an irreversible journey.

This is, in fact, an exceedingly cruel metaphor. Most coming-of-age stories center on “ascending” — the character overcoming adversity to reach the peak. But in Made in Abyss, true growth is accompanied by irrecoverable sacrifice. Riko and her robot companion Reg are not simply brave; they exhibit a kind of near-alien “determination.” This quality is progressively reinforced over the 13 episodes of the first season, prompting one to reflect: does this instinct to yearn for the unknown inherently contain a self-destructive tendency?

Without Nanachi, I Might Not Have Made It Through This Work

If one analyzes the special aspects of this work from character design, Nanachi is undeniably the core of cores. Although appearing only in the latter half of the first season, they almost single-handedly redefined the emotional tone of the story. Their story with dear friend Mitty constitutes an unprecedented classic of “psychological devastation” in animation history.

Nanachi and Mitty were subjected to the Curse experiments of the Fifth Layer’s Sovereign of Dawn, Bondrewd. Mitty bore a double curse, becoming an immortal, grotesque creature with no self-awareness. What makes this arc transcend typical heart-wrenching scenes is its exploration of the boundary between “existence” and “dignity.” Nanachi’s spiritual pillar over many years was to “kill Mitty with their own hands, granting Mitty release.” This is both love and ultimate selfishness. Because from Nanachi’s perspective, Mitty’s very “existence” meant endless suffering for Mitty; yet for the lonely Nanachi, Mitty’s “existence” was the sole reason to keep living.

This paradoxical emotional entanglement transforms Made in Abyss from a mere adventure story into a philosophical text exploring the “nature of love.” If the character growth in the first season revolves around “loss” and “acceptance,” then by the 2020 film Dawn of the Deep Soul, this theme is pushed to another extreme.

Bondrewd: An Absolute “Good” That Cannot Be Judged

Dawn of the Deep Soul is an intensely disturbing film, even sparking considerable controversy for its grotesque and adult-oriented depictions. Among the 7.9 rating on Bangumi, much of the negative criticism focuses on its overly intense ethical shock. However, I believe Bondrewd, the Sovereign of Dawn, is one of the very few truly original villains in anime and manga history.

Bondrewd is not an evil person in the traditional sense. To conquer the Abyss’s Curse, he conducted numerous inhumane experiments, turning living people (including the young girl Prushka) into “Cartridges.” Yet, what makes him uniquely eerie is this: he holds a “selfless love” for all subjects, including Riko’s group. In his distorted value system, sacrificing a few individuals for the future of all humanity is not only acceptable but something to be grateful for.

The most spine-chilling scene in the film is perhaps when Prushka, having “understood everything,” still chooses to become her father’s support and ultimately transforms into Riko’s “White Whistle.” This is not simply explained away by psychology like Stockholm Syndrome; it is the ultimate expression of a non-human ethical framework. The reason we cannot purely hate Bondrewd is that we cannot prove whether our ethics still apply in the extreme environment of the Abyss. This proposition, tinged with moral relativism, elevates the work beyond the good-versus-evil dualism of shonen manga, transforming it into a complex arena capable of accommodating adult contemplation.

Honestly: Its Visual Style Is Not for Everyone

Here, an honest observation must be made. The art style of Made in Abyss is highly distinctive, with character designs retaining the slightly chubby, soft-and-cute feel of Akihito Tsukushi’s illustrations, creating a strong “gap moe” with the later cruel plot. However, the work contains excessive and sexually suggestive depictions of child nudity and grotesque elements related to excretion. Although these elements are not entirely without reason within the narrative contexts of “orphanage survival” or “Abyssal physiological reactions,” they genuinely make some viewers uncomfortable. This authorial stubbornness is an unavoidable aspect when discussing this work. You must cross this threshold before you can truly immerse yourself in the profound emotional experience it has prepared for you.

The Golden City of the Scorching Sun: A Complete Reconstruction of Value

By the second season, The Golden City of the Scorching Sun, which aired in July 2022, the story enters the “Village of the Narehate” on the sixth layer, the “Capital of No Return.” If the previous chapters still had the ethical reference points of human society, this season’s core is “complete alienation.”

The villagers are all Narehate affected by the Curse; they have lost their original human forms, replaced by various grotesque appearances. What is most astonishing is that they have established a self-contained system of exchange — “Value.” In the village, anything can be quantified as “Value,” including body parts, memories, and even personality.

The main characters of this season are arguably the legendary pair of Vueko and Irumyuui. This is a co-dependent parable, occurring in the distant past, more twisted than that of Nanachi and Mitty. Irumyuui, afflicted by the curse of an Abyssal Relic, became the village’s core — capable of birthing everything, yet also consuming everything. Vueko is trapped by guilt and bonds, guarding this gradually deteriorating community.

The Slippery Slope from “Human” to “Something”

The Golden City of the Scorching Sun poses the series’ ultimate central question: When a person loses their human form and social relationships, are they still the same person? In this major arc, we witness the birth of Faputa, the aggregate of Irumyuui’s “Value.” Her revenge and belonging, her destruction and salvation — every aspect challenges the definition of “self-identity.” Just as Nanachi once lived in a dilemma for Mitty’s sake, Vueko lives in the pain of being a “witness.” Director Masayuki Kojima’s team (including composer Kevin Penkin) handles this arc with extensively sacred and ethereal music, sublimating this pain into a tragedy tinged with mythic color.

If you were moved to tears by Nanachi and Mitty’s story in the first season, then what The Golden City of the Scorching Sun brings is a longer-lasting, deeper heaviness that cannot be vented by tears. Its score of 8.3, the highest in the series’ ratings, proves that it successfully transformed a niche, grotesque text into a soul-searching journey with universal resonance.

Made in Abyss’s Place in Animation History

The special quality of Made in Abyss lies in its refusal to blindly worship “dreams,” its avoidance of extolling “effort,” and its refusal to promise “a happy ending.” It coldly pushes the characters (and the readers) toward the unknown Abyss, and at each layer, strips away the values upon which you once relied for survival. Whether it’s the mystery of Reg’s origins, Riko’s pursuit of her mother, or Nanachi’s views on life and death, these seemingly classic themes acquire an otherwise unfindable gravity under the vast symbolic system of the “Abyss.”

It is a survival horror work disguised in the clothing of a fantasy adventure, and moreover, an existentialist work disguised in the clothing of survival horror. On Bangumi, it is always tagged with “psychological devastation” and “grotesque,” but more accurately, it is a potent remedy that allows modern audiences to re-experience the weight, the contingency, and the preciousness of the very fact of “being alive.” Perhaps this is why, even though it crushes us completely, we still yearn for the scenery of the next layer of the Abyss.

Where to Watch / Obtain

If you wish to embark on this “final journey into the Abyss,” here are the current officially licensed platform and product details:

• Anime Streaming: The first TV season of Made in Abyss (13 episodes), the film Dawn of the Deep Soul, and the second season The Golden City of the Scorching Sun (12 episodes) are all available for paid viewing on platforms like Amazon Prime Video, Hami Video, and Bahamut Anime Crazy.
• Physical and Digital Collections: The anime Blu-ray and DVD are distributed by Proware Media International; the original soundtrack can be purchased digitally or as a physical CD through channels related to Sony Music Communications in Japan.
• Original Manga: The original manga drawn by Akihito Tsukushi is currently serialized on Takeshobo’s “WEB Comic Gamma.” The traditional Chinese version in Taiwan is licensed by Chingwin Publishing Group. It is recommended to enjoy it alongside the anime to supplement the story of the seventh layer and beyond that the anime has yet to adapt.