Imagine you’re new at your job. You walk into the office, sit down at your desk, and casually say hi to your coworkers—only to realize they’re sneaking sideways glances at you like they’ve just seen a ghost. Or worse, a legend. That’s basically what happened when Kazuma Kaneko, the artist who designed half the pantheon in Shin Megami Tensei, joined Colopl in 2023 through an ordinary recruitment process. Internally, the news made waves: Wait… the Kazuma Kaneko? No press release. No dramatic announcement. Just a quiet, earth-shaking presence showing up on the org chart.
Now, thanks to a brand-new Famitsu interview with Kaneko and producer Kevin Yusuke Saito, we finally get a look at what he’s been working on: Shinma Kari no Tsukuyomi—a roguelike card battler where you summon gods created by a custom-trained AI, then decide which ones are divine enough to become canon. If that sentence makes your brain hurt in the best way, you’re in the right place.
AI as God
At the core of Shinma Kari no Tsukuyomi is a beautifully twisted idea: what if the gods in your game were generated by an AI trained on Kazuma Kaneko’s art style—but those gods were considered fake within the game’s story? It’s the ultimate snake eating its tail. The AI, lovingly nicknamed AI Kaneko, was trained on a selection of illustrations Kaneko created specifically for the game. From this, it was taught to generate thousands of new god-and-demon-themed “shinma” cards.
But let’s set the record straight: this is not a fire-and-forget Midjourney situation. The development team didn’t just hit “generate” and throw whatever came out into the game. As Kevin Saito explains in the interview, the process involves multiple stages of curation and refinement. Developers comb through the AI’s output, select promising results, and even retrain the model iteratively to make sure what ends up in the game feels stylistically authentic and mechanically sound.
And yes—the AI is also a character. In the game’s mythos, an artificial deity called Ōkami is the one creating these “shinma” cards. Ōkami is a kind of false god, a digital Demiurge who mimics creation but lacks the essence of the divine. So the game becomes a battle not just of decks, but of ideologies: real versus fake, human versus machine, inspiration versus imitation.
You Can’t Just Vote a God into Heaven
As if the idea of AI-generated mythology wasn’t juicy enough, Shinma Kari no Tsukuyomi takes it one step further. The game features a fascinating system called the 盈月奉納の儀 (Eigetsu Hōnō no Gi), in which players participate in a monthly ritual to elevate their favorite cards. But this isn’t a straight popularity contest. Here’s how it works:
First, players can vote on cards created by others, which enhances those cards in-game with cosmetic effects—think shinier visuals, cooler animations, and bragging rights. Then, Colopl’s developers step in. Based on those popularity results—and other internal criteria—they select standout cards to be officially illustrated or refined by Kaneko himself. These become canon gods in the game.
So no, you’re not singlehandedly crowning a deity with your upvote. But you are participating in a communal act of myth-making, where digital folklore becomes “real” through ritual, refinement, and yes—editorial oversight. Just like any good religion.
Humor, Horror, and the 500-Yen Babaa
If all this sounds a little too intellectual, rest assured: Shinma Kari no Tsukuyomi is also completely unhinged in the best possible way. During the interview, Kaneko casually mentions the inclusion of the 500-yen Babaa, a folkloric old woman who demands money in exchange for vague existential dread. The game’s world is full of similar oddities, blending deep mythological research with urban legends, occult trivia, and the occasional “wait, is this real?” moment.
You’re not just summoning well-known figures like Seiryū or Balam. You’re also encountering niche deities, obscure references, and completely invented monsters that somehow feel authentic because they follow the strange dream logic of actual folklore. This isn’t myth as textbook—it’s myth as internet creepypasta meets ancient scroll.
Even the design of Tsukuyomi—the player character—is dripping with symbolism and style. Each playable Tsukuyomi corresponds to a moon phase, with a unique backstory and worldview. Their masks resemble torii gates. Their color schemes evoke sentai teams. Their motivations are cryptic. It’s like if Sailor Moon took a job as an occult exorcist and refused to explain herself.
The AI Debate You Can Actually Play
Beneath all the style and weirdness, Shinma Kari no Tsukuyomi is engaging directly with one of the most pressing questions in modern game development: what role should AI play in creative work?
Kaneko and Saito don’t pretend to have a simple answer. Instead, they’ve built a game that lets you feel the tension for yourself. The AI is part of the gameplay. The fake gods are usable. You’ll summon them, win with them, admire them—before remembering that, in this world, they are imitations. And if you want your favorite to become “real,” you need the community’s support and the artist’s blessing.
This kind of layered commentary is rare in games—and rarer still when it’s this fun. It’s also a clever way to protect artistic identity: Kaneko’s unique style is front and center, but mediated through narrative structure, player agency, and editorial control. It’s not “AI replacing the artist.” It’s the artist confronting the AI on his own terms, and letting you join the fight.
Coming Soon: Godhood, Beta Testing, and Maybe Immortality
Shinma Kari no Tsukuyomi is scheduled for release in spring 2025 on both Steam and mobile, with free-to-play access and what promises to be a deep—but snackable—roguelike loop. Each character’s story runs around 7–8 hours, but with four Tsukuyomis to choose from and endless card permutations, you’ll be able to dive deep or play light.
And yes, Famitsu is currently offering exclusive early access playtesting slots. If you’ve ever wanted to summon a digital god, vote it into mid-tier popularity, and maybe see it touched up by a real-life myth-making legend, this is your moment.
You won’t just be playing a game. You’ll be participating in the creation of a new mythology—one card, one mask, one very judgmental moon god at a time.
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