Top 14 Most Redpilled Anime Series
Anime, as with people, are not created equal. All anime can redpill, even Boku no Pico. But the redpilling strength of a cucked and degenerate show like Oreimo (though still enjoyable thanks to best-girl Kuroneko) obviously pales in comparison to the sheer concentration-camp-filling force of Fist of the North Star or K-On.
But a show having “redpilling potential” is different from it BEING redpilled. For an anime to truly be “redpilled” it needs to intentionally explore themes of uncomfortable truths, especially those relating to nationalism, degeneracy, and, like, you know… genetic stuff. Maybe it’s just because the Japanese are so… foreign, but there’s some themes and realities of life that flow more easily from an Eastern brush than from a Western ballpoint quill.
Since many (though not all) “redpilled” anime are a bit off the beaten track, and because the redpilledness of some of these shows is rather subtle, I felt compelled to isolate those anime of sufficient quality, order them into a hierarchy or “list” based on inherent superiority, and then by words to justify each item’s position therein. I’m pretty sure I’m the first person ever to have done this, so if you see anyone doing a similar thing elsewhere on the internet, please inform them that, at this time, I can only accept royalties in the form of various cryptocurrencies.
14. Land of the Lustrous (Houseki no Kuni)
Reading Land of the Lustrous’s plot summary on MAL, you could be forgiven for thinking it was some kind of rip-off of the obviously cringe and bluepilled cartoon Steven Universe. It’s also animated in a 3D style that, though truly incredible during fight scenes, can feel a bit clunky during the gem’s normal social interactions. Also there’s some weird sexual tension at times between the characters, despite them being sexless and (mostly) female-presenting. For these reasons, Land of the Lustrous’s inherent superiority is lower than the rest of the entries on the list. And yet, it still has to be here, because this show is fundamentally about the redpill.
The story follows Phosphophyllite, a very childish and selfish gem still struggling to find her place in the world. As time goes on, she progresses from total normie to cool, calculating badass who’s also starting to notice some rather suspicious stuff underlying gem society. Though the manga goes much further, the anime ends right as Phos makes her decision between the comfortable lie, and the unsettling truth. It’s kind of an odd place to end, but in retrospect, I’ve come to appreciate the LotL anime as a show about GETTING to the point where you can handle the truth. Most of us weren’t always redpilled; it took some work to get ourselves to where we could even begin to think critically about the “unpopular” questions. For that reason, Phos’s story ought to be pretty relatable to those who have faced the full weight of the redpill/bluepill decision. Land of the Lustrous is a spiritual journey; one which illustrates in vivid detail just how much pain and loss the soul endures in the pursuit of truth, and the almost masochistic level of determination those devoted to the redpill must possess.
There’s no shortage of anime glorifying country life. Depending on what kind of society you aspire for, you may or may not consider the naturalistic sentiment redpilled by itself. As someone who grew up in the suburbs, spent my teens in a big city, and eventually escaped to flyover country, I can confirm that the “country life” meme is not all it’s cracked up to be. As far as living a honest life, rural America is better than the cities, but not by much. The biggest advantage country life once had over city life—the sense of community—has been greatly damaged by the economy, by drugs, by targeted immigration, by technology, by low-church attendence and the relative divisiveness of post-reformation Christianity.
Barakamon, though certainly about country life, is about more that. It’s fundamentally the story of an artist (Handa) trying to find motivation in the world around him. He does find inspiration in nature, but his muse is not the trees, the flowers, the birds, the wind, or sky of the Gotou islands. Rather, the key that unlocks his artistic identity is an energetic and annoying 6-year-old girl, her older friends, and a few other residents of the town. At first, Handa holes himself up in his house, and to the detriment of his health focuses on nothing but producing art. He resists, at first, the intrusion and nosiness of the other characters, thinking what’s needed to master his craft is peace and quiet. Only through sheer force of stubborn playfulness do his muses manage to break through the walls he puts up.
We on the right like to talk about how important “community” is, and we’re not wrong. But one must keep in mind is that any meaningful sense of community comes at significant cost to privacy and, for lack of a better word, autonomy. This is a wonderful thing, and living with this level of vulnerability can help keep you moral and honest (and only partly out of fear). But it is also something that many people today, myself included, would feel very uncomfortable with at first. Barakamon reminds us of this, and delivers hard on the redpill that it is really through OTHERS that we find OURSELF.
Just kidding! Gintama’s not redpilled—it’s blackpilled. And being a comedy, it’s in a very “clown-world” sort of way. Gintama’s setting is somewhat unique: an alternate-history Late-Edo Japan following invasion by a “diverse” array of space-aliens called the Amanto, who disarm the samurai and turn the shogunate into a puppet government. This thinly-veiled metaphor for the forced liberalization of post-WWII Japan, applies equally well for a critique of ALL globalization. One character, an old war buddy of the protagonist, is literally a nationalist terrorist perpetually being hunted down by the shogunate. And he’s presented as a good guy.
When I say this show is blackpilled though, I’m talking about the main character, Gintoki. Once a powerful samurai fighting in the wars to ward off the Amanto invasion of their home country, Gintoki has seemingly resigned himself to the end of the national era. He subsists in perpetual poverty, drowing himself in cynicism, children’s manga, and strawberry milk. Gintoki refuses to aid the nationalist rebellion on the basis that getting rid of the Amanto is simply impossible… and he’s probably right. But while Gintoki refuses to concern himself with the big picture, he’ll still be a hero for anyone suffering in front of him. And he himself may not realize it, but the philosophy of “you can really only help those closest to you” is a principle fundamental to nationalist thinking.
11. Humanity Has Declined
Humanity Has Declined is a light-hearted comedy set in a world where humanity has… declined. By which I mean, humans have ceased to be the dominant species on earth. How is that redpilled? Because we weren’t replaced by something stronger or smarter than us. The successors to our evolutionary niche are a bunch of cute and derpy goofballs called fairies. Belying their adorable and childish demeanor, the extraphysical, causality-bending nature of the fairies’ existence is more than a bit Lovecraftian in the way it terrorizes human sensibility.
The protagonist, who we know only as “Watashi”, is a mature but cynical girl having just finished college. She returns home to her grandfather and begins her new life as a civil servant, arbitrating disputes (if you can call them that) between the fairies and what remains of human government. Like the rest of mankind, she’s resigned herself to humanity’s fate; there’s no rage against the dying of the light. But there’s some based stuff in there too, like her grandfather’s gun collection, and the way work is segregated by gender. It’s a really enjoyable show, and the redpilled will find plenty of food-for-thought therein.
10. Dragonball Z
An ancient blonde-haired, blue-eyed warrior race? Checks out.
A bad-guy who, by co-opting the Saiyans’ strength and bending them to his will, invades, flips, and resells planets for profit? Oy vey! Apparently, Akira Toriyama stated that he got his inspiration for Frieza from real estate speculators prior to the burst of the Japanese asset price bubble in the early 90’s, whom he describes as “the worst sort of people”.
That’s all pretty based, but there’s one redpill Dragon Ball Z conveyed to me as a child better than any other anime like it that I’ve seen since. You gotta TRAIN, man! DBZ makes you want to improve yourself, to build your strength and power beyond the limits of common sense. Who are you to say I can’t make a giant deadly energy beam with my hands? Just watch me! I can run a marathon! I can fly! That’s nothing compared to Snake Way!
Okay, that’s not redpilled so much as just delusional. But important truths lie in the hyper-masculine delusion. Like the fundamental need of the male spirit for something to protect, something worth fighting for. And things like that. In a world that’s literally trying to turn you into an obese tranny, Dragonball Z is like an oasis of sanity in a desert of soyboy dollhouse. Role models of honorable masculinity are few and far between, but Goku is a stand-out among them. And who knows, maybe if you meditate and train and learn to direct the flow of energy in your body… maybe you really will become a Super Saiyan.
9. Made in Abyss
Space: the final frontier. Or is it? Sure it’s big, but at the end of the cosmic day, won’t living in space be a lot like living right now? Perhaps nothing really changes until we learn to push the boundaries of a more “internal” frontier.
Or maybe, a frontier will open up from the ground in the form of a city-sized chasm, rife with completely alien flora and fauna, relics of an ancient society, and anomalous physical and physiological phenomena begging to be explained! Such is the case in Made in Abyss.
The abyss is special, because the further down you go, the harder it is to get back up. Returning from shallow dives just leaves you feeling sick, but go down to the 6th level or below, and attempting to return involves “loss of humanity or death”. Despite this, a sort of boomtown economy has built up around extracting and selling relics from this hellhole. It’s dangerous work, but the mysteries of the abyss are enticing, and even the orphans of departed Delvers long to uncover its secrets for themselves.
The story tracks 12-year-old (orphan?) Riko, the Faustiest girl who ever lived. Though she appears to have some faint grasp of human decency, in truth she cares for nothing but solving the mysteries of the abyss. After stumbling across a living cyborg relic who lost his memories ascending the pit, she decides it’s time for her to make her final dive.
What follows is one of the greatest adventure stories in anime, as we follow Riko on a journey from which she knows full well there’s no hope of return. All that awaits her is some secret knowledge and an early death, but she’s she’s deadset on the former and prepared for the latter. It’s a modern reframing of the Faustian bargain, but instead of dealing with the devil, Riko skips the middle-man and marches into Hell directly. By turning the wagering of one’s soul into a journey, involving both a physical and intellectual frontier, Made in Abyss rivals (and I think exceeds) Faust himself at embodying the full scope of concepts involved with the modern, romanticized concept of the “Faustian spirit”.
8. Mysterious Girlfriend X
It’s not the first, nor the last time during this list that I have to preface a synopsis with “It’s degenerate, but…”. But hoo boy. MGX takes the cake for catering to the weirdest fixation I’ve seen in all of anime: drool-tasting. It already sounds bad, but the way the animators chose to make all saliva look like sticky golden honey makes it really hard to stomach at times.
And yet, if you CAN stomach it, MGX is a highschool romance that’s distinctly ANTI-degeneracy (except for some girl-girl stuff, but it doesn’t lead anywhere). The story follows the boy Tsubaki in his relationship with the eponymously mysterious girl Urabe. As with most high school boys, myself having been one of them, Tsubaki has no real concept of what a relationship is. Having only the outward signs of others’ relationships to go off of, he naturally concerns himself less with the genuine bonds of love and more with romantic “achievements”.
Urabe sees through this behavior, and in a uniquely master-to-disciple sort of way, she imparts the wisdom that a relationship is much more meaningful when it unfolds slowly and organically. She doesn’t say “no” to his advances, but when he tries candidly to steer conversation toward the topic of kissing, she asks if kissing her is what he really wants. He says yes, of course. But thanks to saliva magic, Urabe finds a way to show Tsubaki his own deeper feelings on the matter, and the result is much more meaningful than if they’d started making out simply because “that’s what highschoolers do”.
If I had my way, MGX would be required material for kids in junior high and high school (probably the manga instead though, since the drool wasn’t nearly as vivid in black and white). MGX conveys something that my parent’s generation just couldn’t put into words, and which the younger generations desperately need to understand. Why shouldn’t you rush into sex? Because it’s just… BETTER when you don’t. Because relationships are about two people discovering one another, and rushing into sex is like skipping to the last page of a fascinating book just so you can tell people you’ve finished reading it.
Some will say that it’s not redpilled to romanticize love, that it piles unrealistic expectations on relationships, and people end up childless and unhappy waiting for a perfection that will never come. Fine. But even without romanticizing it, I promise you; relationships can be so much more meaningful, especially when you’re young, if you live in a way that is actually receptive to meaning. And MGX shows how this is done.
7. Welcome to the NHK
This anime holds a special place in the heart of many a recovered college-dropout and former basement-dweller. It’s renowned as the anime you recommend to your NEET friend as a hint that they need to get their life together. And it serves that purpose well, but Welcome to the NHK is more than just self-help material.
In the introduction to the light novel the anime was based on, the author literally defines the world Jewish conspiracy (really using the word Jew). He goes on to say that while this conspiracy happens to be false, he (the main character) has stumbled upon the REAL conspiracy. This conspiracy centers around a major television broadcasting company, but for all intents and purposes, it might as well be the Jewish conspiracy.
Knowing this information about the light novel, and knowing that the author himself continues to be a hikkikomori to this day, sheds a rather unique light on the anime series. There’s no doubt in my mind that the author is redpilled on the JQ. It’s a miracle his writing was published, and an even greater miracle that someone decided to make an anime (and manga) from it. And how cool that it’s gained a reputation for helping people to turn their lives around!
Admittedly the anime does shy away from some of the harsher topics discussed in the light novel, rewriting much of the story to remove references to things like drugs and child-pornography. But the result of these modifications was actually a much more fleshed-out and satisfying story. The anime depicts a striking and imminently relatable picture of a degenerated, but still morally-conscious young adult, inadvertently stumbling into every pitfall imaginable as he struggles to obtain something like a normal life. Despite his overwhelmingly pathetic moral state, occasional glimpses of Satou’s underlying sense of honor make you really want to see him succeed. The (slightly) saner friends he makes along the way are doing their best for him as well. Ultimately though, the message of this anime is that life is sink-or-swim. In the worst cases, the kindness of others just enables us to avoid the fundamental question underlying survival: will you do what it takes to keep living, or will let yourself suffer and die?
6. Chaika: the Coffin Princess
Chaika is about war. Not the horrors of bloodshed, not the glory of victory, but about the sheer, pragmatic, human value of war. It’s an odd thing to say, but war brings out the best in people. It also brings out some demons, but in all cases, war accustoms men to the harsh realities of nature and death. It brings a perspective on life that no amount of navel-gazing will ever obtain. War is the reality; “society” is the illusion.
Chaika is the story of an adorable amnesiac girl’s quest to unlock her memories and gather the separated remains of her father. Her father, of course, was the “Taboo Emperor”, a warlord who tyrannized the continent for hundreds of years, sacrificing everything in his Faustian pursuit of mastering magic and technology.
Collecting the Taboo Emperor’s remains will (probably?) bring him back to life, and (probably?) thrust the world back into a state of constant war of the sort it only recently freed itself from. Chaika is kind, and doesn’t want suffering or bloodshed, but gathering up her father’s remains is the only purpose she knows. She finds an ally in Toru, a washed up mercenary whose life lost all meaning with the end of the war. Together they travel the countryside, collecting remains and dodging the peace-loving authorities that pursue them.
By the way, Chaika casts spells using a sniper rifle. I don’t know if that counts as redpilled, but it’s based af.
5. No Game No Life
A belligerent, ridiculous story of a sociopathic brother and autistic sister, rising to ultimate power in a world where all conflicts are decided non-violently through games. Littered with enough degeneracy to earn it the “ecchi” tag on MAL, this series is nevertheless host to an equal quantity of redpills relating to power and competition.
Technically speaking, NGNL crosses the fascist finish line in just the first few episodes. Having won control over the realm of humans, what reason would a fascist have to declare war, unprovoked, on all 15 other ethno-kingdoms simultaneously? Despite what the media tells us about fascism, world conquest is pretty much contradictory to the worldview. Page 1 of Mein Kampf: “Only when the Reich borders contain the very last German, but can no longer guarantee his daily bread, will the moral right to acquire foreign soil arise from the distress of our own people.”
And indeed, Sora (the brother), though he can summon a fiery and impassioned Imanity-pride speech on demand, also expresses privately that his sentiments are not nearly so noble. Rather, his goal really is to take over the world, so he can challenge God to a chess match and take over his job. So is NGNL redpilled, or just a power-trip?
Though national sovereignty is a wise and realistic goal for a huge host of reasons, any communist can tell you that there are some things you can only do when EVERYONE is on board. Sora and Shiro’s conquering the planet to take God’s place mirrors this fact, and the goal of “ascendance to godhood” seems symbolic of accomplishing those great, space-age, sci-fi goals humanity can’t hardly dare to dream of. I think many future-oriented fascists assume these goals can be achieved by sovereign nations still locked in competition with each other. And maybe so. But if not, then there will eventually, naturally, be a shift to something like the post-fascist conquest represented by NGNL.
Kaiba is surreal. It falls into that small category of anime, like Mononoke and Kuuchuu Buranko, that go a little overboard with the avant-garde-ness of their presentation. But unlike most shows of that nature, Kaiba doesn’t feel pretentious or elitist. It just feels… alien.
And yet, the world of Kaiba is not so distant from our own. Most people, if they could choose a different body, would. Most people, if they could live forever, would. Within capitalism, technologies advance faster that offer people what they think they want. And what do people want? Freedom from biological limitations.
The world of Kaiba is the realization of that desire. In Kaiba, a nice body is like a nice car, and people’s memories can be transferred (or copied) from body to body as they wish. The full implications of this are kind of hard to wrap one’s head around, even if you ignore questions like “is a person really their memories?”.
As one might expect, the rich of this world live in a stylish, hedonistic utopia atop a layer of memory-wiping clouds. In the slums below, the poor live in squalor and constant fear of having even their cheap crummy bodies stolen and sold on the black market. Protagonist “Warp” awakes in slums like these, void of memories and with a literal hole in his chest. He’s shuffled around by various people he doesn’t know but who seem to know him. He wanders around aimlessly, witnessing, silently, the ludicrous misery of this brave new world. Eventually the plot finds him, and he finds the qt3.14 in his locket, but the early episodes impress very strongly the sweet and mournful bitterness of this inhuman future humanity totally brought upon itself.
3. Suisei no Gargantia (Gargantia on the Verdurous Planet)
As the march of technological progress continues unharried, a difficult decision for humanity looms ever closer: how will we choose to advance as a species? Are we going to use technology to boost our human capabilities, or are we going to use technology to make ourselves no longer human? This dichotomy sets the stage for Suisei no Gargantia, but the story itself contrasts those questions against a third: “how about neither?”
Ledo, an accidental deserter of the big important space war, somehow got teleported to a planet not described in his sources… and it’s populated with humans! Knowing nothing but giant mecha space battle stuff, he has a hard time adapting to their comparatively primitive ways. As he learns to enjoy a new, relaxed way of life, he learns about the history of this strange planet, and its connection to the war that was once his only source of purpose. And somewhere along the way, he learns to chill out and enjoy sharing in the scavenger’s colorful culture and communal way of life.
No matter how you swallow it, Suisei no Gargantia’s redpill is a little black. Among the options, it’s obvious that the happiest people, living the most human way of life, are these scavenging, nautical communites that Ledo meets and befriends. Does that mean Ledo’s warlike space-people should dial back their technology and live like the scavengers on Gargantia? Well, no. There’s still a big important war to fight, and not fighting it would spell destruction not only for Ledo’s people, but for the defenseless scavengers as well.
The evolution of technology and war continously threatens to take humans further and further away from their own wellbeing. And yet, it’s hard to imagine a scenario where we could stop or reverse this process. As long as there is division, technology must keep advancing for the sake of remaining competitive. Happiness isn’t necessary for survival, and humans are going to keep surviving until someone puts us out of our misery. We might become happier with the situation as we adapt to it, but if change is applied quickly, happiness may never catch up. For the sake of alleviating our misery, humans will probably find it an irresistable temptation to use technology to accelerate our adaptation. And having done so, we will cease to be human. We will be a machine writing its own code. And before long, we will no longer be the sorts of beings who can find happiness among the the scavengers of Gargantia. But if Ledo’s people did that, they would lose the very thing that separates them from their enemy. The fighting would continue, perhaps into perpetuity, but the purpose for which the fighting broke out in the first place, would be lost.
2. Shinsekai Yori (From the New World)
It’s impossible to talk about the immense redpilled-ness of Shin Sekai Yori without giving spoilers, but I’ll talk about it in the broadest strokes that I can.
In a similar vein to Land of the Lustrous, Shin Sekai Yori is about choosing to uncover uncomfortable truths. But while LotL stops at the decision, SSY goes all the way to a satisfying end. In doing so it somehow manages to address questions about eugenics, homosexuality, social engineering, slavery, and war. And by the end of the story, the show’s answer to those questions is pretty much, “yes”. Except for the homosexuality. Maybe.
Why? Because once upon a time, a fraction of a percent of humans evolved a trait that was too powerful, too deadly to be controlled by the existing power structure. It rapidly led to chaos and the deaths of the vast majority of the world’s population, and could easily have led humans to their extinction… but they found a way to survive.
If I had to pick one redpill and throw the rest away, it would be that concept I just described. The possibility that humans would develop a feature so destructive, that our survival would hinge on the collective’s ability to restrain it in every individual. It’s sort of similar to the threat of nuclear weapons, if every person on the planet had their finger on the button. If you dare to extrapolate this thinking to include slower, more insidious types of destruction, then I think Shin Sekai Yori can only make you MORE authoritarian.
The other thing that’s redpilled about SSY is its cozy setting. Children in this society are raised in small village communities, with a warm and mythologizing culture, surrounded by and connected with nature, with true religion, homogeneity, and social purpose. SSY is often called “dystopian”, and I guess it is, but that diagnosis also misses the point. Their government is basically as good of a system as is physically possible, given their world’s unique constraints. The obvious negative aspects of the system also delegitimize calling it “utopian”… so I don’t know what to call SSY, but it’s pretty damn redpilled.
1. Yuru Yuri
There’s honestly no anime more forward-thinking than Yuru Yuri. Having achieved the fascist dream of a free-market cultural utopia, Japan set its sights on further improving the human condition using advanced genetic and social engineering. Set in the resulting all-female future, Yuru Yuri uses the comedy of same-sex attraction to explore how the meaning of “meaning” changes when all non-superficial conflict has been rendered obsolete.
1. (Real) Gurren Lagann
There’s honestly no anime more forward-thinking than Gurren Lagann. What begins as a struggle by tunnel-dwelling humans to recapture the surface, ends in a battle of literally galactic proportions, with solar-system-sized robots warring over the fate of all DNA-based lifeforms. Now, Gurren Lagann is a pretty well-known anime, and normies tend to think it’s just a wild and crazy mecha show. But Gurren Lagann is actually the most overtly fascist and redpilled anime ever made, by lightyears and then some.
I can’t possibly cover all the redpills Gurren Lagann contains in just a few paragraphs, but its central theme is evolution. The drives and mechanisms of life generally cause it to continue to reproduce and spread as much as it can. When things get too crowded, life starts to have problems, so to survive you must either 1. Make more room to keep expanding, or 2. Enact some form of population control. It’s the duality of these evolutionary strategies that Gurren Lagann explores: endless frontierism vs self-containment. The first is represented by the “Spiral races”, and the second by the “Anti-Spiral race”.
Clearly taking the side of Spiral lifeforms, the story of Gurren Lagann demonstrates the spirit of boundlessness in probably the most spirited, unbounded way imaginable. It’s cool and fun and awesome, and everyone should watch it. And for those who pay attention, in addition to all the other redpills it drops, this show drops one redpill to rule them all. And that’s that the Anti-Spirals, as well as the humans who took up the Anti-Spiral approach… even though they’re they bad guys, they’re not WRONG. The role they play in evolution is actually somewhat crucial. By placing themselves in opposition to the Spiral races’ expansion, they ensured that any who succeeded wouldn’t be weak-willed or half-assed. Out of the millions of Spiral races who progressed far enough to challenge the anti-spirals on their own turf, all of them failed… until the one we see succeed. Which means, hopefully, that they earned it. That their expansion throughout the universe will be less like a cancer destroying its host, and more like a light that grows to illuminate all things.
Perfectly in line with honorable warrior spiritude, the protagonist Simon eventually comes to see his enemies as the source of his strength. Death itself, as experienced by the loss of his fallen comrades, Simon embraces as a great and powerful ally. But not for one second does he allow this transcendent wisdom to weaken his resolve to stomp his enemies into the ground. The enemy plays his role, the dead play their role, and the role of Simon is to destroy the anti-Spiral race, once and for all. To take back everything they stole from him, from his people, and from all the races who have suffered and died at their hands.
And that’s all there is to it.