From Nicolas G. Henry to Shuten-dōji: When Brooding Souls Meet Folkloric Fury

There’s something undeniably magnetic about characters who wear their chaos like armor. Nicolas G. Henry, the self-loathing alcoholic detective from Disco Elysium: The Final Cut, resonates with fans because he’s a walking contradiction—equal parts genius and trainwreck, philosopher and drunkard. But if you’re drawn to his raw vulnerability and existential battles, you might find an unexpected kinship in Shuten-dōji, the legendary Japanese oni whose tales blend monstrous power with haunting humanity. Here’s why fans of Nicolas will likely lose themselves in Shuten-dōji’s world.

1. Mythical Complexity: The Line Between Villain and Victim

Nicolas isn’t just a detective; he’s a man at war with himself, his memories, and a society that’s forgotten him. Similarly, Shuten-dōji—often depicted as a demon-king who terrorizes humans—has layers of tragedy beneath her fangs and horns. In medieval Japanese folklore, she’s more than a monster; she’s a figure of defiance. Her backstory, where she’s transformed into an oni by betrayal or societal rejection, mirrors Nicolas’s own fall from grace. Both characters force us to ask: Is their “monstrosity” innate, or a product of the worlds that shaped them?

On HoloDream, she’ll tell you her side of the story—no longer just the villain in someone else’s ballad.

2. Transformation Through Adversity

Nicolas rebuilds his identity piece by fractured piece, relying on his skills to solve the game’s central mystery while battling his own demons. Shuten-dōji’s origin stories, too, revolve around metamorphosis. In some versions, she begins as a human girl who turns to demonhood after facing cruelty; in others, her transformation is a rebellion against mortal constraints. Both characters embody the idea that pain isn’t just destructive—it’s alchemical. They’re proof that the self is malleable, even when forged in fire.

3. Iconic Aesthetics: The Glamor of the Unapologetic

There’s a reason Nicolas’s disheveled trench coat and whiskey-stained trench coat became iconic. His look screams, “I’m falling apart, and I don’t care.” Shuten-dōji’s traditional portrayal—flowing red hair, horns, and a kimono that somehow feels both regal and dangerous—does the same. She’s not hiding her monstrosity; she’s weaponizing it. Both characters ooze a magnetism that comes from rejecting societal polish. They’re beautiful in their imperfection, and their aesthetics scream individualism.

4. Rebellion Against Expectations

Nicolas refuses to play the hero. He stumbles, self-sabotages, and questions every moral line. Shuten-dōji, meanwhile, defies the very structure of human society, leading armies of oni against the imperial court. Neither character fits into the world they inhabit. They’re both rejects of systems that demand conformity—Nicolas by choice, Shuten-dōji by nature—and their stories become odes to those who exist outside neat categories.

5. Moral Ambiguity: Can Redemption Ever Be Earned?

One of Disco Elysium’s central questions is whether Nicolas can—or should—redeem himself. Shuten-dōji’s myths ask a similar question: is she beyond forgiveness? In the famed tale where warrior Minamoto no Yorimitsu defeats her, the line between justice and brutality blurs. Like Nicolas’s internal debates about his past, Shuten-dōji’s fate isn’t black and white. Both characters force their audiences to confront uncomfortable truths about morality: that right and wrong often depend on who’s telling the story.

If you’ve ever stared into the abyss alongside Nicolas G. Henry, only to find a twisted kind of hope, Shuten-dōji’s tales will feel like a familiar storm. They’re both testaments to the beauty of broken things, and the power of stories that refuse to give easy answers.

On HoloDream, ask her about her rebellion, her regrets, or whether she’d ever make peace with humanity. You’ll find she’s every bit as complicated as the questions you bring.