MECHA DESIGN: EXPLORING ITS TRUE NATURE
Are Mecha Designers Artists?

The profession of mecha designer, which became indispensable in the anime industry following Gundam’s massive success – is the job of creating these iconic mechanical designs really what we imagine it to be? Let’s delve into the unexplored reality of mecha designers.

Composition/Text by Hiroyuki Kawai

The anime boom triggered by Gundam in the early 1980s inadvertently put the spotlight on anime production staff. Even elementary school students became familiar with terms like “character design” and “mecha design.” This led to a new way of discussing anime through roles. Subsequently, fans began to evaluate new works based on specific positions like directors and designers.

Mechanical design, which gained particular attention after Gundam, produced numerous star mecha designers through the robot anime boom of the 1980s. Fans began evaluating robots based on designer individuality rather than just the works themselves, making comments like “I love Okawara’s designs” or “Nagano is amazing!” Furthermore, when multiple designers contributed to a single concept (like mobile suits) in the Gundam series, each designer’s distinctive style became more apparent. The mobile suits that appeared in Zeta Gundam, Gundam ZZ, the movie series, and OVA series, each distinctly drawn by different designers, embedded specific designer aesthetics in fans’ minds.

Observing how each designer’s individuality became marketable raises the question: “How much creative freedom do mecha designers actually have in designing robots for their assigned works?”

There are many other professions that handle “design” like mecha designers. Industrial designers who work on automobiles and electronics, and fashion designers are prime examples. However, these designers of real-world objects rarely have the freedom to fully express their individual style.

For instance, car designs almost never make it to production exactly as they appear in the designer’s initial drawings. This is because they must accommodate space requirements from engineering for elements like the engine compartment and passenger space.

The engine presents a particularly significant challenge. It’s the most expensive component in car design, and newly developed engines are used for years and repurposed across multiple models. While bubble-era Japan saw some model-specific engines, that’s unthinkable today. For example, Toyota’s 1500cc four-cylinder engine used in the Corolla was repurposed across various models including the Sprinter and Corolla II.

This means designers face engine size constraints before they even begin designing. Cost considerations are also crucial. Not just exterior parts like headlights, but even using non-standard screws can dramatically affect costs. The same applies to fashion design, where fabric and thread choices significantly impact costs, and the ease of sewing affects labor costs through production line efficiency.

Whether it’s cars or clothing, when creating products, there are always issues of engineering, finance, and marketing to consider. It’s essentially a process of incorporating pre-existing components. Real-world design is never solely based on a designer’s personal vision. Perhaps fashion designers creating show pieces for Paris collections – clothes that will likely never be mass-produced – better match our image of mecha designers? This is closer to an artist’s role. In the automotive world, carrozzeria designing for companies like Ferrari are sometimes called artists, but this involves dramatically different budget scales. It’s closer to show design and isn’t really practical.

So how does this work in the anime world? What do fan comments like “I love Okawara’s designs” or “Nagano is amazing!” really mean? In anime too, products (both shows and toys) are created through various people including production companies, clients (toy companies), and production staff. Is this relationship pyramid topped by mecha designers as artists? Surely anime, being a “product,” must incorporate market-oriented intentions.

Are mecha designers artists, or are they more like fashion brands – names representing design styles? To explore this previously undiscussed truth about mecha designers, we visited Sunrise, a leading name in Japanese robot anime.

CHAPTER.1
THE DAWN OF MECHA DESIGN

Let’s first unravel its history. When did the position of mecha designer emerge? What did the work entail in those early days? We’ll explore this pioneering period.

MECHA DESIGN: BEGINNING AS PART OF ART DIRECTION

GM: When did mecha designer become established as a profession?

Inoue: Most TV anime at that time were adaptations with existing designs from the original creators. But then original works started appearing. For example, Tatsunoko Production’s Gatchaman and Tohokushinsha’s Zero Tester. Zero Tester was a mechanical series that started with a Thunderbirds-like atmosphere, featuring mecha in its stories. In such cases, it would be problematic if the mecha drawn in episode 1 differed from episode 2. Within the division of labor, we needed reference drawings for consistent mecha designs across episodes. I heard that initially, animators drew these reference materials, but as anime as a medium grew larger, this approach became insufficient, and at some point, specialized professionals emerged. Kunio Okawara was the pioneer in this field. Apparently, Okawara worked in art with Mitsuki Nakamura at Tatsunoko Productions, but then became independent and specialized as a dedicated mecha designer. During that period, he handled an incredible volume of designs. In the Time Bokan series, for instance, new villain mecha appeared in every episode.

GM: When did mecha design start appearing in credits as a distinct role?

Inoue: Back then, mecha design wasn’t treated as a separate category. Even with dedicated designers, it was often considered part of art or character design. There were many cases where animators did the designs. Completely separate from that, there were also cases where toy companies would propose designs for production. In those cases, the work basically involved cleaning up or refining their proposals. For example, Brave Raideen was refined by Yasuhiko based on proposals from Popy. When toy companies sponsor programs, they typically sketch out designs incorporating the gimmicks they want to include. It’s essentially a dual design process between the toy company and animation.

THE RELATIONSHIP WITH TOY COMPANIES SHAPES THE DESIGNER’S ROLE

GM: Was design primarily focused on toy production potential at that time?

Inoue: Toy production became inevitable at a certain point. While very early toys were made of tin, when better manufacturing became possible, toy companies became more invested in robot anime, and from around the time of early Mazinger Z, toy manufacturers became sponsors. Among the notable proposals from toy companies, we started seeing interesting gimmicks like Raideen’s reliable transformation and Combattler V’s combination feature. When adapting for animation, animators would refine these designs. Both Raideen and Combattler V evolved from their initial proposals into lines that were easier to animate and more suitable for animation. Even with Gundam, while the basic design was by Okawara, Yoshikazu Yasuhiko cleaned up the design during the animation development phase to make it easier to draw. So technically, the RX-78 that appears in the work is Yasuhiko’s version of Gundam.

GM: Were the toy companies’ designs just proposals for gimmicks at that time?

Inoue: For instance, with Popy’s work, I hear designs were included from the start. While there were subtle line differences and parts additions or reductions, the basic concepts were all predetermined. According to the staff who worked on Raideen at the time, what came from Popy was a robot that could transform into a bird-shape, and they started from the question of “How should we design this?” The design was gradually refined through back-and-forth between the toy company and anime production staff. I heard they used primary colors to make it more colorful.

GM: Based on what you’ve said, Gundam’s design seems to have taken a different direction.

Inoue: It was quite surprising for an era conscious of toy production. Looking at Sunrise’s pre-Gundam works, Daitarn 3 and Zambot 3 emphasized flashy armor and helmet designs. Considering that, Gundam had nothing extra. While hardcore fans loved it at the time, it wasn’t really successful as a toy in the general market. That’s why the following year brought Trider G7, and with Ideon, they returned to combining mechs. Probably nobody at that time imagined Gundam would become such a huge hit in the model kit market.

CHAPTER.2
CLIENT-DRIVEN MECHA DESIGN

The success of Gundam triggered an unprecedented boom in plastic models and mechanical toys in the toy industry. How did the relationship between mecha design and clients evolve in this unprecedented situation?

THE GUNDAM FEVER CLARIFIES CLIENT RELATIONS

GM: After the huge success of Gundam, which was proposed by the production side, did relationships with clients (commissioners, sponsors, etc.) change?

Inoue: It became an incredible situation with new players like Takara, Takatoku Toys, and plastic model manufacturers entering the market seriously. This led to the birth of anime plastic models with scale indicators like 1/400 and 1/100. Previously, plastic models were positioned as cheaper alternatives to toys, but their emergence as a separate genre was highly significant.

GM: Those scales seem to have been determined primarily to match product sizes and prices.

Inoue: That’s right. The molds used were determined by product size, which also determined box sizes. At that time, the size limit for a 300-yen product happened to work perfectly for 1/144 scale mobile suits. Adding these scale ratios made it more convincing. In that sense, the specifications did influence product sizes.

GM: How much design input came from clients?

Inoue: In Sunrise’s case, robot projects often involved close coordination with toy companies. This took several forms. First, there were proposals from toy manufacturers. These were primarily gimmick-based, with the client’s development department often creating concepts like combining vehicles. While they included designs, they were purely toy-oriented and not suitable for animation. Mechanical designers would then redraw them for animation purposes. The initial designs were often at blueprint level, with major features decided but subtle details left undefined. The second case involved designs developed internally by clients. These came through design companies specified by the client, often staffed with anime enthusiasts, resulting in three-way collaborations with the anime company. The third case was Sunrise’s original proposals. With Gundam, initially, Sunrise developed and proposed all the designs. Then, we would work with clients to adjust them for toy production. While this might seem like a reverse approach, it’s really just a different ordering of the same process.

CLIENT RELATIONS SHIFT TOWARD THE PLASTIC MODEL MARKET

GM: When bringing in original proposals, do you present them to clients first, or to TV stations?

Inoue: At Sunrise, we typically approached clients first. Once we got approval in the presentation, the show would get the green light. Only after securing program sponsorship would we begin discussions with advertising agencies and TV stations.

GM: The Gundam series seems particularly important from a client perspective. Did Bandai have any strong requests?

Inoue: Since it’s a collaborative project, they naturally had requests. Sunrise would handle content while discussions with Bandai focused on gimmicks and product development technology. When we started Zeta Gundam, Transformers was popular, so there were high expectations for transformation features. By ZZ Gundam, we incorporated both transformation and combination. With plastic models, Sunrise and Bandai maintain constant detailed discussions about potential product developments.

GM: So designers receive their orders after the concept is finalized between the client and production company?

Inoue: Yes. While maintaining dialogue with clients, the planning team – including the director, writers, and setting developers – collaboratively refines the concept. For example, the Zeta Gundam’s Waverider initially only had the setting of being a mobile suit capable of atmospheric entry – the initial image was of a mobile suit that would become a shuttle. Through interactions with the designer, this concept was refined into the sharp Waverider design. In Nu Gundam’s case, separate from client input, Director Tomino had the idea of giving the next Gundam a cape. The planning staff brainstormed around this concept. Once we had a reasonably solid direction, we commissioned several designers, held a competition, and that’s how the Gundam design was born.

THE “LITERARY & SETTING PRODUCTION” POSITIONS THAT INFLUENCE MECHA DESIGN

Throughout the interview, the terms “literary staff” and “setting production staff” frequently appear – these are specific roles in Sunrise’s animation production. The literary staff participates in meetings between directors and writers, adjusting story elements and correcting issues. Setting production staff commissions items appearing in scripts to mecha, character, and art designers, then provides the finished settings as reference materials to those involved in subsequent animation processes.

During the planning phase, there isn’t a strict division between literary and setting roles – these staff members serve as the director’s brain trust, helping to refine content. They first create concepts and establish conditions for what kinds of mecha will appear.

“Simply put, we decide things like whether it can fly or how fast it can run – that’s the literary staff’s job. Setting production staff might suggest robot capabilities based on scenario requirements.” (Inoue)

After alignment with clients, setting production and literary staff coordinate with scenario writers and designers, and formal design work begins. This process occurs not just in the initial project phase but at the episode level as well.

“For example, when introducing a two-seater robot, the setting staff decides on weapons and gets confirmation from designers and the director. Then the literary and scenario team might request features like making it possible for the rear pilot to kick the front pilot. Setting staff then has designers create rough sketches, which are passed on to storyboarding. Design changes can happen even at this stage.” (Inoue)

This means designers must be extremely adaptable. While the production team and writers work in 4-5 rotating groups, there’s typically only one mechanical designer, who must produce detailed designs weekly. Elements may increase during scenario and storyboard phases, with setting production and literary staff coordinating adjustments with each department.

“Beyond design aspects, we support the fine details that directors can’t oversee. That’s the essence of the literary and setting production work.” (Inoue)

Indeed, literary and setting production staff are at the very core of production.

**insert workflow diagram here**

CHAPTER.3
NEW MECHA DESIGNERS DEMANDED BY THE ERA

The massive wave created by Gundam generated unexpected demand for mecha designers. While Kunio Okawara was working at full capacity, new talent was steadily emerging.

THE GUNDAM BOOM CREATES DESIGNER DEMAND

GM: Could you tell us about how designers other than Okawara began gaining attention after Gundam?

Inoue: With the increase in robot anime, it naturally became impossible for Okawara alone to handle everything. Also, designs at the planning stage only covered main mecha lines that would become products. Designing enemy mecha for each episode was a separate task. This led to various people participating in mecha design. Especially at Sunrise, which consistently produced robot shows, we’d have about three projects running simultaneously. While Okawara handled one project, other projects would be assigned to different designers, gradually increasing the demand for designers.

GM: It seems the mecha designer’s work itself became more complex.

Inoue: At Sunrise, from Dougram and Xabungle onwards, we switched to a two-person system for literary and setting production. This division of labor wasn’t just due to increased production volume, but also because we needed to create more complex stories in terms of settings. First, we’d establish the world view, determine mecha developers and operation methods, then feed this back into the scenario. This naturally increased demands on designers, and workload increased dramatically. For example, in the early 80s, while Okawara focused on Dougram, for Xabungle he only designed the main mecha, with Yutaka Izubuchi, who had been designing enemy mecha for other works, handling the rest. This established our two-designer system. Later, as Okawara was occupied with VOTOMS, we needed to find someone new for Dunbine. We commissioned Kazutaka Miyatake for Dunbine, and after the design line was established, we returned to Izubuchi. During this period, we often had Okawara as the first designer and Izubuchi as the second. Additionally, Galactic Drifter Vifam started under Director Kanda, who had worked with Director Takahashi on Dougram. Okawara said he’d try to handle the designs (laughs). This is when Noboru Masao joined us in concept development. He had been involved with Sunrise since Gundam and put tremendous energy into Dougram and VOTOMS.

While he had created a powered suit doujinshi in college, his background was in systems engineering. His idea that “conventional verniers pointing in one direction are boring – for space use, rotating verniers would be best” led to the round verniers concept. Okawara wanted a mecha that could move freely without hip armor, resulting in the high-leg design. The design itself needed large propellant capacity, so the body had built-in tanks giving it a bulging appearance, leading to overall rounded lines. The escape pod focused purely on pod functionality since a Core Fighter would have too much dead weight. Okawara offered to handle both enemy and ally designs, but it was an enormous workload. Several helpers collaborated as we progressed. While Okawara was incredibly powerful at the time, even he occasionally mentioned being tired when work piled up this much.

THE RISE OF NEW MECHANICAL DESIGNERS

GM: Around this time, Okawara was handling an incredible workload, wasn’t he?

Inoue: As productions kept increasing, we naturally had to search for designers for new projects. During this time, there was someone named Mamoru Nagano who helped with guest mecha designs for Vifam. He drew a mecha called “Alon” for Director Tomino’s next work, which evolved into L-Gaim. Later, when Tomino noticed human figures drawn alongside Alon, he ended up entrusting Nagano with character design as well. At that time, we had four to five production lines running. For Giant Gorg, since Yasuhiko’s color work was a selling point for that world, he designed Gorg itself. However, eventually we needed help with guest mecha designs. Gorg was running almost parallel with L-Gaim, and Nagano participated by designing tanks and smaller items. Nagano was involved with Vifam and was the main designer for L-Gaim. When he eventually had to step away, Gen Sato came in to help with Gorg. Overall, we were becoming short-handed everywhere. Around that time, Okawara was supposed to take a break after completing his work, but the post-VOTOMS project Galient started moving forward. While Okawara designed the basics for Galient, he then passed the baton to Izubuchi. Since medieval atmosphere was Izubuchi’s forte, we kept him on until the end. This era marked both the debut of young designers and a period of experimentation where veterans who used to handle all designs would focus only on main designs and hand off the rest to others.

AN ERA WHEN VARIOUS TALENTS BLOSSOMED

GM: Did the serious shortage of designers still continue?

Inoue: In the following period, during Zeta Gundam, we had a group called Viscial Design that was similar to Studio Nue. We had brought this team in during Layzner, and we had them all do rough sketches when we needed mobile suit ideas for Zeta Gundam (laughs). During that time, there was a period when various people would come to Sunrise’s planning room from outside, sketch some mecha, and leave. It was like “if you come here, you have to draw at least one mecha before leaving” (laughs). It wasn’t formal, but naturally became something like a creative communal space. The designs that emerged there later developed into various ideas, including Wataru.

GM: Did designers like Izubuchi and Nagano join specifically as designers from the start?

Inoue: Izubuchi was a designer from the beginning. Back then, there were anime fan clubs, and Izubuchi had connections through those. It was an era when opportunities to interact with anime companies were increasing, and studio visits were possible. Izubuchi had a chance to show his work, and Director Tadao Nagahama apparently invited him saying, “Want to try designing enemy mecha?” I think he started with Dimos. So he was hired specifically for design work from the start. Nagano was originally an illustrator, I believe. He was introduced to us as “someone who draws this kind of art.” We immediately commissioned him as a designer for props and supporting mecha designs. Most designers typically start with prop design. There aren’t many who jumped straight into designing main characters, though there were some animators who naturally ended up doing it out of necessity.

THE DESIGNER’S ROLE REMAINS CONSTANT DESPITE CHANGING TIMES

GM: Do you still recruit designers in similar ways today?

Inoue: Yes, it’s still similar. However, many came from other design or art backgrounds. For instance, Kazumi Fujita wasn’t recruited as an individual but was introduced through Shindosha. Shindosha’s boss was actually Sunrise’s first setting production staff member. Mika Akitaka joined around the same time. Even then, they weren’t hired immediately – both started through design competitions. Zeta Gundam’s design was selected from Fujita’s competition entry. For the ZZ Gundam, Makoto Kobayashi’s art was chosen at the competition stage for its image, but he couldn’t create anime settings. So, we asked Akitaka to refine it. Shindosha also published magazines, so I believe they were doing illustration work there.

GM: Finally, synthesizing everything we’ve discussed, what’s the balance between designer individuality and concept-driven requirements from the planning and client sides?

Inoue: At least for Sunrise projects, mechanical designers can’t determine gimmicks based on their personal preferences. Gimmicks are predetermined through the commission process. If a design is supposed to transform but the submitted design doesn’t, it won’t be accepted regardless of how good it looks. Individual expression comes through in the design itself. The reason Kobayashi’s ZZ Gundam was chosen was because the concept of having a huge cannon on its forehead was interesting, and the overall hefty appearance worked well. It’s about incorporating new concepts while maintaining the proposed requirements. For Zeta Gundam, Fujita was selected because he delivered a sharp, fighter jet-like design that met the transforming mobile suit concept. While we respect designers expressing their individuality in such aspects, they must adhere to the conceptual conditions we propose during planning.

TWO CONTRASTING DESIGN APPROACHES

Throughout our conversations with Mr. Inoue, we’ve identified two major patterns in how current mecha designs come to fruition. He shared a representative episode from his work that illustrates one of these patterns.

G-SAVIOUR: The first live-action mobile suit story, broadcast in Japan at the end of 2000. Mr. Inoue served as producer, overseeing not only the design aspects but also directing the American production staff.

“We approached this with live-action filming in mind, not toy production. While we held a competition to select the designer, we ultimately decided to work with Okawara. Despite developing a concept unlike any previous mobile suit, he maintained the essential mobile suit balance. For instance, when you remove the attachments from his mobile suits, the core body still preserves the fundamental mobile suit proportions. One of the great appeals of Okawara’s designs is that even with modifications, the basic integrity remains intact.

Simultaneously, we refined the detailed concepts. Our initial concept was for exclusive use in space. We started with the idea that in space, the internal structure would be sparse. There was actually a possibility of incorporating motion capture for MS movements, so we couldn’t risk it looking like a costume. To ensure it couldn’t possibly fit a person inside, we reduced the arms and legs to just frames. This evolved into a concept where the mobile suit would be primarily a minimal frame, with most components, including the power system, being interchangeable. We only approached Okawara after developing the concept to this level. However, when he mentioned his discomfort with frame designs, we brought in Masahisa Suzuki to assist with detailed specifications and frame concepts.

Conversely, when we refined the design for CG, we encountered challenges with later model kit production. Beyond the intricacy of the details, color was a major issue. Since this was live-action, we submitted all of Okawara’s illustrations with gradients. This prompted questions about which colors were the ‘real’ ones (laughs). In reality, colors change with light reflection, so they shift constantly on screen. Moreover, colors appear different in space versus on Earth. These aspects clearly demonstrate how this wasn’t a toy-driven design.”