The world of fantasy anime offers a kaleidoscope of narrative possibilities, and two series that exemplify the genre’s breadth are Made in Abyss and Re:Zero – Starting Life in Another World. At first glance, both transport viewers to richly imagined worlds filled with danger and discovery, yet their thematic cores stand in stark contrast. Made in Abyss presents a vertical odyssey into an enigmatic chasm, weaving themes of curiosity, sacrifice, and the loss of innocence. Re:Zero, meanwhile, traps its protagonist in a time-looping nightmare of death and rebirth, using that mechanic to dissect trauma, identity, and the psychological toll of heroism. This article explores the thematic chasm between these two acclaimed works, examining how each series uses its unique setting, character arcs, and storytelling techniques to convey fundamentally different messages about the human condition.

Worlds of Descent and Recursion

Made in Abyss, adapted from the manga by Akihito Tsukushi, unfolds in the town of Orth, perched on the edge of a colossal pit known simply as the Abyss. This immense vertical cavern descends through layers of increasingly hostile ecosystems, each governed by a mysterious force that afflicts those who ascend with a progressively debilitating curse. The series follows Riko, a 12-year-old orphan who dreams of becoming a legendary Cave Raider like her mother, Lyza. Her journey begins when she meets Reg, a robot boy with amnesia and an arm cannon, and the two venture into the Abyss’s perilous depths. The official site miabyss.com provides a wealth of supplemental lore that deepens the world’s intricate rules, from the ranking of whistles to the biology of the Abyss’s creatures.

In contrast, Re:Zero – Starting Life in Another World (based on the light novel series by Tappei Nagatsuki) places its modern-day protagonist, Subaru Natsuki, in the fantasy kingdom of Lugunica. After a chance encounter with a silver-haired half-elf named Emilia, Subaru is murdered, only to find himself back at a specific “save point” moments earlier. This ability, which he terms “Return by Death,” becomes both his greatest asset and his most harrowing burden. As detailed in the official Re:Zero website, the narrative is structured around Subaru’s repeated failures and the gradual accumulation of knowledge, relationships, and psychological scars. The world is expansive, but the focus remains relentlessly introspective.

Thematic Exploration

Adventure and Exploration vs. Psychological Struggle

In Made in Abyss, adventure is not merely a backdrop but the central driving force. The Abyss itself operates as a metaphor for the pursuit of knowledge—irresistible, beautiful, and utterly merciless. Riko’s motivation is rooted in a childlike wonder, ignited by her mother’s legendary white whistle and the tantalizing relics retrieved from the depths. The series emphasizes the act of discovery: mapping uncharted layers, cataloging relics, and uncovering the forgotten history of a civilization that once thrived there. However, this sense of wonder is continually undercut by the brutality of the Abyss. The curse of ascent inflicts physical and psychological damage that escalates the deeper one goes, from nausea and headaches to the loss of humanity itself. The experience of exploration is thus framed not as a triumphant march but as a series of ethical and existential tests. As the series progresses, Riko must reckon with the truth that the Abyss gives nothing without exacting a steep price, transforming her from a starry-eyed child into a hardened survivor. This thematic duality is captured in the series’ iconic visual symbolism: iridescent flora and whimsical creature designs juxtaposed with grotesque body horror and emotional devastation.

Re:Zero, on the other hand, eschews geographic discovery in favor of psychological excavation. Subaru’s repeated loops strip away any semblance of traditional adventure. He does not explore uncharted lands; he navigates the same events over and over, each cycle peeling back a layer of his own psyche. The narrative relentlessly interrogates what it means to be a hero when the cost is invisible to everyone but yourself. Subaru’s early arrogance and performative chivalry are brutally deconstructed as he watches friends die, suffers betrayal, and realizes that his power does not grant him immunity from despair. The series portrays trauma with unflinching precision: the maniacal laughter of a broken mind, the desperate clinging to false hope, and the corrosive self-loathing that comes from feeling powerless despite having an ability that defies death. The psychological struggle is not just Subaru’s; it extends to the supporting cast, whose own hidden traumas surface through his interventions, revealing the universal vulnerability behind the façade of strength.

Innocence and Experience

The treatment of innocence serves as another point of departure. Made in Abyss is, in many ways, a chronicle of innocence lost. Riko begins her journey naive and optimistic, her worldview shaped by the romanticized tales of Cave Raiders. The early episodes, with their bright colors and jaunty soundtrack, lull viewers into a false sense of security. But the Abyss quickly asserts itself as a realm where childhood ideals cannot survive. The ordeal of ascending from the fourth layer, with its curse causing bleeding from every orifice, and the subsequent encounter with the monstrous Orb Piercer, force Riko to confront her own fragility. The most poignant expression of this theme comes through the character of Nanachi, a “Hollow” who was once a normal human child before being subjected to horrific experiments. Nanachi’s backstory—watching a dear friend lose their humanity in a bid to share the ascent curse—shows innocence not as something that fades gently, but as something that is brutally ripped away. The series consistently asks: what remains of a person after the world has shattered their childish beliefs?

Re:Zero similarly charts a fall from innocence, but Subaru’s starting point is a different kind of naivety: the entitlement of a modern shut-in who believes he has been summoned to a world where he will be the chosen hero. His initial charm stems from his relatable, goofy personality, but this same personality masks a deep-seated insecurity and a tendency to treat those around him as game-like NPCs whose affections he can earn through heroic deeds. Return by Death forces him to experience the consequences of his manipulations in the most visceral way possible. He witnesses the gruesome deaths of those he loves, often because of his own shortcomings. The emotional crescendo of the first season—the revelation that his single-minded determination has caused incomprehensible pain to Emilia and Rem—dismantles his hero fantasy entirely. Subaru’s arc is about learning that experience is not merely a collection of memories but a crucible that either tempers or destroys the soul. By the second season, he has become someone who can face his own past traumas and accept that being weak is not the same as being worthless, a level of emotional maturity that represents a hard-won form of regained innocence.

The Nature of Sacrifice

Sacrifice operates differently in each narrative, shaped by the fundamental rules of their worlds. Made in Abyss positions sacrifice as an inevitable component of progress. Delvers frequently risk their lives—and their humanity—for artifacts, knowledge, or the chance to reach the bottom. Riko’s own existence is predicated on sacrifice: her mother used a relic to resuscitate her stillborn body, a fact that haunts Riko’s sense of identity. The bond between Riko and Reg is tested repeatedly as they must choose between personal safety and the other’s survival. Reg, for instance, is willing to incinerate himself with his incinerator cannon to protect Riko, and Riko, despite her physical fragility, repeatedly pushes her body beyond its limits to secure their escape. Sacrifice is communal, binding the characters together in a web of mutual debt and love.

In Re:Zero, sacrifice is intensely personal and often pitilessly ironic. Subaru’s deaths are sacrifices that no one remembers. The emotional currency he pays—watching Rem be twisted into a mockery of herself by the Archbishop of Sloth, or seeing Emilia’s trust shattered—cannot be shared or validated. This isolation makes his sacrifices feel futile, a theme the series wields to devastating effect. Moreover, the narrative challenges the very notion that sacrifice is noble. Subaru’s martyr complex is exposed as self-serving at times; his desire to save everyone is entangled with a need to be recognized as a savior. Only when he learns to sacrifice his ego—accepting help, admitting his limitations, and trusting others to bear burdens alongside him—does he find a path forward. The series thus offers a more complex, and arguably more modern, take on sacrifice: it is not about dying for someone, but about living with the consequences of your choices.

Mortality and Hope

Both series engage with mortality, but their tonal and philosophical conclusions diverge sharply. Made in Abyss presents a world where death is omnipresent and often swift, yet it clings to a fragile thread of hope rooted in human connection. The iconic moment where Riko, poisoned by an Orb Piercer’s spine, endures an unanaesthetized surgery while Reg weeps outside the door, encapsulates the series’ ethos: hope is the act of moving forward even when every rational instinct screams to stop. The Abyss is indifferent, but the courage to continue is portrayed as intrinsically valuable, even beautiful.

Re:Zero, by contrast, frames hope as a choice that must be remade every time the world resets. Subaru’s ability removes the finality from death, but in doing so, it floods his existence with a relentless accumulation of despair. Hope is not a distant light at the end of a tunnel; it is a flickering candle he must shield with his own hands amid a hurricane. The series’ second season, which confronts Subaru with the traumatic origins of the Sanctuary and the witches’ twisted affections, doubles down on this idea. To reject Return by Death, to accept that his life has value beyond his utility as a time-looping pawn, is the ultimate act of defiance against a cruel fate. Here, hope is not a feeling but a discipline.

Character Development

Gradual Forging vs. Cyclical Shattering

Character growth in Made in Abyss is cumulative, driven by environmental and relational pressures. Riko’s evolution resembles a gradual forging: each layer of the Abyss hammers a new aspect of her character. Initially defined by her boundless enthusiasm and encyclopedic knowledge of relics, she learns prudence from near-death experiences, compassion through Reg’s vulnerability, and a steely resolve from Nanachi’s tragic past. Her development is linear, even as she backtracks physically; the Riko who enters the fifth layer is not the same girl who left Orth. Reg’s parallel journey—grappling with his mysterious origin and the destructive power of his incinerator—complements Riko’s, creating a dual narrative of self-discovery that moves ever downward, both literally and metaphorically.

Subaru’s growth, by comparison, is non-linear and often regressive. The time-loop structure means he can, and does, backslide spectacularly. After managing a “perfect” run that saves the village children, he can still descend into a screaming breakdown when faced with the Sanctuary’s trials. This cyclical shattering is precisely what makes his eventual breakthroughs so powerful. Every time he climbs out of a pit of despair, the viewer understands that he has fought tooth and nail against his own worst instincts. The supporting cast plays a crucial role in this process: Beatrice and Otto in the second season act as unexpected anchors, demonstrating that Subaru’s strength lies not in solitary suffering but in the network of relationships he has painstakingly built across many timelines. The series rejects the myth of the lone hero, insisting that true resilience is relational.

How Supporting Characters Shape the Protagonists

In both series, supporting characters are far more than narrative devices; they reflect and challenge the protagonists’ core dilemmas. In Made in Abyss, Nanachi’s own tragic arc—a child experiment who lost her best friend Mitty to the curse—serves as a cautionary tale and a mirror for Riko. Nanachi’s cynicism and deep-seated guilt force Riko to look beyond the romance of adventuring and confront the moral cost of the Abyss’s allure. Similarly, Ozen the Immovable, a white whistle who knew Lyza, introduces a harsh pragmatism that shakes Riko’s idealized image of her mother. These encounters layer the narrative with moral complexity, showing that the Abyss shapes everyone who enters it, often in ways they cannot escape.

Re:Zero’s female leads, Emilia and Rem, are instrumental in Subaru’s transformation. Emilia’s own struggle with discrimination and self-doubt provides a parallel to Subaru’s feelings of inadequacy, and her unwavering kindness—even when she cannot remember his sacrifices—becomes the ideal he strives toward. Rem’s confession and her unconditional acceptance of a Subaru who despises himself offer one of the series’ most cathartic moments, directly catalyzing his “From Zero” declaration. Later, characters like Echidna, the Witch of Greed, serve as dark temptresses who offer Subaru an easy escape into endless looping, forcing him to define what he truly values. Each supporting character acts as a prism, refracting a different aspect of Subaru’s psychology and pushing him toward a more integrated self.

Visual Storytelling and Symbolism

Art Style and Animation as Narrative Tools

The visual language of Made in Abyss, brought to life by studio Kinema Citrus, is essential to its thematic impact. The lush, painterly backgrounds of the upper layers—filled with giant blue mushrooms, glowing waterfalls, and translucent creatures—contrast with the grotesque biomechanical horrors of the lower depths. This aesthetic gulf between surface beauty and underlying terror mirrors the story’s central tension: the pursuit of knowledge is as alluring as it is destructive. The animation of the curse’s effects, from subtle nosebleeds to full-body mutation, is rendered with a visceral clarity that makes the abstraction of the curse feel terrifyingly real. Character designs are deliberately soft and childlike, making the violence they endure all the more shocking.

White Fox’s adaptation of Re:Zero takes a different approach, relying on expressive facial animation and sharp directorial cuts to convey psychological distress. The series frequently uses distorted close-ups, rapid zoom-outs, and monochromatic filters to externalize Subaru’s mental state. A key motif is the looping black and white flashback that accompanies each death, a visual shorthand for his fractured memory. The color palette of the world is generally warm and inviting, which makes the sudden intrusion of eldritch horror—such as the grotesque forms of the Sin Archbishops—maximally disorienting. Re:Zero’s visual storytelling excels at turning the intangible experience of trauma into something the audience can almost feel.

Symbolism and Metaphor

Symbolism in Made in Abyss is deeply rooted in the Abyss itself, which acts as a vertical axis connecting life, death, and transcendence. The white whistle—carved from a Cave Raider’s own life-defining stone and activated by blowing—symbolizes the sacrifice of self for the sake of exploration. The relics, with their cryptic names and reality-warping properties, represent the allure and danger of forbidden knowledge. The journey downward can be read as a katabasis, a descent into the underworld that echoes mythic quests for enlightenment, but with the caveat that enlightenment may come in the form of unspeakable horror.

Re:Zero’s symbolism revolves around returns and rebirths. Return by Death is not just a plot mechanic; it is a metaphor for the repetitive nature of trauma, where the past is not something you leave behind but something you relive until you learn its lesson. The Witch’s Cult and the Sin Archbishops each embody a perversion of a fundamental virtue—Sloth as a cult leader who does nothing but still causes immense harm, for instance—pointing to the series’ interest in moral ambiguity. The concept of the “book of the dead,” which allows characters to view their own past lives, serves as a literalization of self-reflection. Even Subaru’s tracksuit, an indelible remnant of his old world, becomes a symbol of his displacement and his refusal to let go of his identity, for better or worse.

Reception and Cultural Impact

The thematic boldness of both series has earned them critical acclaim, though their impacts differ. Made in Abyss has been praised for its willingness to combine childlike wonder with extreme brutality, a dichotomy that has sparked discussion about the boundaries of dark fantasy in anime. Its soundtrack by Kevin Penkin—a sweeping orchestral and choral score that blends childlike melodies with cavernous dread—has been universally lauded and contributed to the series’ cult status. However, its graphic content has also drawn criticism, with some arguing that the suffering of its young protagonists borders on exploitative. Anime News Network’s reviewers note that “the show’s most haunting moments force audiences to ask themselves: is the revelation worth the pain?” Read the full ANN review.

Re:Zero’s impact has been felt more in the realm of character discourse and the deconstruction of isekai tropes. Subaru’s breakdowns and his raw vulnerability have made him a divisive but unforgettable protagonist. The series’ unflinching portrayal of mental health struggles has resonated with viewers, and its commercial success—with multiple seasons, OVAs, and a mobile game—testifies to the broad appeal of its psychological depth. The anime’s ability to inspire countless fan theories and debates about the nature of the magic system and the witches’ motivations speaks to the intricacy of its writing. MyAnimeList user scores, with the first season holding a rating above 8.5, reflect its strong standing in the community (MAL page). Both series have contributed significantly to a shift in fantasy anime toward darker, more thematically ambitious storytelling.

Conclusion

While Made in Abyss and Re:Zero – Starting Life in Another World both reside under the broad umbrella of fantasy anime, their thematic preoccupations could hardly be more distinct. Made in Abyss is a vertical epic that treats exploration as both the highest calling and the most profound curse, where the loss of innocence is the price of glimpsing the sublime. Re:Zero is a horizontal spiral that tunnels into the psyche, using repetitive trauma to ask what it truly means to be human in a world that refuses to play fair. One finds its heart in the wonders and horrors of an unknown abyss; the other finds it in the resilience forged through unbearable repetition. Together, they demonstrate the extraordinary range of the fantasy genre, proving that a journey can be measured in descending meters or in loops of agony, and that in either case, the most treacherous territory is always the human soul.