In some respects, it feels like it ended the only way it could have.

I've heard Tsutomu Nihei being praised as a genius - when it comes to his visuals, especially when it comes to his monster/creature design and scenery, he's certainly unparalleled. Even his decision to constantly remake the same few characters seems to be part of the thematic cohesion, as is the meandering, sometimes confusing plot. Ironically, the hook enough is simple, but the conflicts and new characters Kyrii meets on his journey, with some brief exception, feel hopeless and arbitrary.

Blame! has all of the makings of a cult classic, and I know I would definitely recommend it to the right reader. Its rough edges are charming, and I can see the fingertips of his influence on manga and series that came far after.

There's a joke in manga and anime, especially from Western fans, about how often characters say/scream each other's names during certain scenes. Ironically, Blame! shows why this is necessary. While there might have been Grand Narrative Purposes for how similar robot waif (pale hair) and robot waif (dark hair) and Kyrii (dark hair, similar to other dark hair, but taller without boobs) all looked, I often got mixed up who was doing what and why they were doing what they were doing. All it took was someone speaking one of the other character's name for me to snap back to where these characters met and I felt a bit more grounded in the story. It makes sense in serialized storytelling that mangaka often employ this device, and while I think it's a fascinating decision not to do this, I felt it often worked against the goals of the manga when it was a little confusing.

The inventiveness of the silicon life forms and the endless, sprawling, techno-organic, brutalist structures of Blame! are the real reason I stuck with this series. In a lot of ways it felt like concepts come to life without the polishing touch of an experienced writer. On the other hand, it's not overburdened with technobabble or high-concept backstory. Much of the information readers gain from Blame! will be pieced together through context, and because the characters are singularly driven by their mission, many questions go unanswered.

Nihei's work in Blame! has made me question what parts of humanity are necessary to tell a story. If there's almost no expressiveness to the body language or faces, if the relationships between characters or their feelings are unclear, what remains? If new connections are often severed almost before they began, why does the main character keep going? If Kyrii is ultimately doomed, and always was, why is it enjoyable to watch him struggle endlessly in a world that's bigger than he could ever hope to escape from? Surely, deep down, Kyrii must know his struggle is futile. It was from the first panel. And yet. And yet.