lain: A Trace of Her Being

※Originally published on note, May 15, 2023.

　I really love the PlayStation version of serial experiments lain.

　The way you piece together scattered fragments of information to form your own interpretations; the quiet, probing conversations shaped by counseling sessions, where both sides confront the depths of the mind—just the fact that a game this niche was released on the PlayStation at all is moving in itself.

　What I especially love is the game’s portrayal of the internet.

　It’s a space where fragments of data drift aimlessly, each one meaningless on its own, yet open to personal interpretation. What you draw from each piece is entirely up to you.

　When I first started using the internet, there was no such thing as “social media.” There weren’t any fixed places to check every day. Instead, I wandered through a web of independent sites, gathering bits and pieces of information for fun.

　Text-heavy personal blogs, obscure pages about cult manga and anime—they were all self-contained, floating islands of expression.

　And in that scattered world, I found what felt like the true shape of the internet:

　People casually posting their thoughts, opinions, and stray pieces of information—not with a clear goal, but with a kind of hazy hope that maybe someone out there might read them.

　That floaty, detached feeling like tossing a message in a bottle into the sea... that’s what made the internet feel alive to me.

　Even now, I love stumbling across blogs or accounts where regular people—not influencers or creators—just post their honest thoughts and daily lives. What part of a post catches my interest is entirely my own problem. That’s why I find it so comforting when people just write down what they think or what happened to them, exactly as it is.

　Now, back to serial experiments lain on PS1. On the surface of the game disc, there’s a fingerprint. Yes, presumably transferred from Lain’s own finger, as she appears on the cover.

　The bold red printed onto the disc feels almost like blood... and it looks incredible.

　I confirmed this with someone who worked in the industry back then: printing a disc with a special red color like that isn’t easy.

　You’d need serious intent and precision to even get that request approved. That red “blood” on the disc? It’s nothing less than the staff’s obsession—proof of how deeply they were committed to building this world.

　A few years ago, I attended an exhibition of Yoshitoshi ABe’s artwork. There, I came face-to-face with a giant illustration from PS lain, and beneath it was the title:

“A Trace of Her Being.”

　That red smear "Lain’s blood" is indeed proof that she was here. That trace pierces through the game’s packaging, reaches the disc itself, and ultimately, we play that disc. The game begins. A torrent of disjointed data flows outward. Lain’s fractured personality emerges.

　And we, as players, begin to connect those fragments... to piece together the girl named Lain, and engrave her existence into our own memories.