Now here’s the deal. I’m Clara, and you might have seen me on stage from time to time. Celebrating the 15th anniversary feels like the perfect time to look back on the groundbreaking legacy of The Pirates of Tokyo Bay. But I can’t do that. Sorry!
When the Pirates started, I wasn't even on their radar, nor was I thinking of ever doing Improv. In fact, I was still living on the other side of the world, in Germany, kicking ass in Mario Kart, but not really in life (that might be another story, though).
What I’m trying to say is: If you’re expecting a long string of origin stories—it's not going to happen from me.
If you’re up for the big talks, go to Mike (honestly, he can't wait to tell you the one about Meg losing her phone in Hanoi and calling him at 4 AM, only able to speak in a whisper tone).
If you’re looking for advice on how to become great at Improv, talk to Bob, Christiane, Tomoko, Tom, or any other performer that will fill your heart with glee when you watch them on stage. (Pro Tip: If the conversation is lacking, just throw out a random prompt like "Bellybutton Fluff!" at them. Trust me, they’ll jump on that.)
And if you are desperately looking for a way to leave from this page, take a look on the upper right corner of your screen. As the old saying goes: The X marks the spot.
What I Can Tell You
What I can tell you, however, is how it was for me joining a group only a year ago that has already created a legacy for 15 years. And what my takeaway from this experience has been.
After all, Pirates aren't just people doing funny stuff on stage. Being a Pirate is a mindset. A community. It's the kind of support system I wish everyone had. Being a pirate may not solve all your problems, that’s true. Yet, it adds perspective. A spark of joy—for yourself, and often for your life companion as well, as you start having conversations you wouldn't have imagined before:
(Door shuts)
“I’m home!”
“Hey hun! How was practice?”
“Not gonna brag but … Today, I played a cyborg who affectionately hugs trees.”
“Ah. Same old, same old?”
“Hell yeah!” (Pistol fingers)
You might have enjoyed a romantic dinner before, but have you ever been on a date with a Pirate? It's certainly a twist.
(In a restaurant)
“What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah …”
“OK, then we can start ordering…”
“So you know in the scene I was in two weeks ago, where Cheryl and I were part of a cult, trying to summon a long lost friend by drawing a pentagram on the floor? I said our friend is ‘Gone,’ and what I meant is just in another country. She thought I implied he is DEAD. DEAD! HAHA! How crazy is that? I really need to clarify my choices better. You know what they say in Improv? ‘When you do not say it, it is just an opinion.’ What a brilliant phrase, don’t you think? Oh, man, I wish I’d be better at making decisions.”
“OK then … what would you like for starters?”
“I don’t know, you can choose.”
Fitting the Puzzle Piece
To me, starting with Improv was a game changer when it comes to living in Tokyo. Because even though we live in the biggest city in the world, life here can in fact be quite lonely. And this is what makes it so important to find your own, little spot, your community, where you can grow and bloom.
Improvisers are a unique kind of human being. And to me, they are usually also one of the best people you can be around. A good improviser is generally vulnerable, honest, emotionally intelligent, and understanding while also constantly running on the fuel of pushing personal boundaries. Playing Improv looks like it is just a game, but it is not: thoughts start running through your mind you haven't been thinking of before. After all, asking for a salary raise from your boss suddenly sounds like a piece of cake after you've (for example) played a spider embodying seven different personalities on stage the night before.
But all these things—the small anecdotes, the friendships, and the bond that comes with being part of a group like the Pirates—they don't come from nowhere. Becoming a member was easy in the sense that all of their veterans were welcoming and friendly. Yet in hindsight, I’d say, it has been and still is a more complex process than I would have imagined. Sure, you enjoy the feeling that they picked you at the audition because they liked your first impression. But from the beginning, I've also felt a constant responsibility not to mess it up.
Joining a group that has performed or worked together for 15 years can be a genuinely exhilarating, yet strangely intimidating, experience.
It kind of feels like trying to add a puzzle piece that now has to fit into a picture other people have worked on for years—while you are still in the process of figuring out what the picture actually is.
Think about it:
They know the inside jokes, the unwritten rules, and the tricks for a successful scene.
They have the chemical history and the knowledge of each other’s strengths and weaknesses, allowing them to support each other perfectly.
They are a finished, vibrant mural—not perfect, but unique and fluid.
And then there's you, holding your small, unique piece, trying to figure out if you're meant to be the sky, a tree, or maybe something else you just cannot see yet.
Choose Your Colors
What comes to mind first when you think about the Pirates? The musical numbers we always open our show with? The happy laughter of the audience? Or the struggling faces of us actors when the story takes a sudden, unexpected turn?
When I started being a Pirate, the most striking symbol of this 15-year legacy was always the fun and colorful T-shirts they were wearing while performing. It was the physical livery of a team built over a decade and a half.
And so I was pretty excited when Mike announced that it was our, the newbies', turn to pick our own colors.
I could tell you now that my choice went fast and smooth, like picking the socks I'm wearing for the day. Yet when I opened the Excel sheet and saw the 40+ colors I should pick from, it almost felt as daunting as choosing your first Pokémon. Sure, realistically speaking, none of these choices should say anything about you or your character. But as we all know, according to the unwritten playground rules, picking Bulbasaur meant you would never make it to the cool kids’ table.
So I sat there, picking, choosing, updating my choice, five, ten, if not twenty times. When I chose a color, I immediately checked if anyone else had chosen the same. I checked how many of the current members had that color. Too many might disturb the group's balance, and choosing a plain grey shirt just for its uniqueness might make me hate it before I even wore it. After all, the performers who built this 15-year history have all worn this regalia! This uniform. This livery that instantly makes you a part of a pack united by the same vision, dreams, and passion.
I still got nervous when we finally received the T-shirts. I was still worried that my choice—dark red in active wear, and purple in cotton—would turn out bad and I should have gone for something else. Yet, when I opened the packaging and felt the fabric on my skin, all doubts vanished and were replaced by excitement. “The color suits you well,” I even heard Roger say once, while patting me on the shoulder for our traditional “Got your back” cheer, the very motto the Pirates have sailed on for 15 years already, right before the show starts.
Maybe, I believe now, it was never important what color I chose. Members I've never met wore these same colors on their journey, just as current members are wearing them now. Because, and I suppose this is the real lesson that a true Pirate eventually learns in this group: It might not be so important what decision you make. The main thing is that you make a decision. What comes after, you and your team will handle then.
The 15-Year Rule: Everyone Starts Scared
During the past year, I have performed on stage with the other Pirates a few times now. Some performances I was very happy with; others, I was just happy that I got some sentences out.
The first night I was planned to participate in a game, my heart beat so fast, I thought I might throw up. “Once the focus is on me, I will just freeze and die,” I thought to myself, leaning into the survival strategy of an opossum.
When I was fearfully looking from the entrance area of "What The Dickens" to the stage, Christiane must have noticed me. Kindly, she laid her hand on my back.
“Are you alright, Luv?”
“I am very scared, actually.”
“I see. Take deep breaths. Breathe in for four seconds. Hold it for seven. And exhale for eight seconds. Repeat that.”
I did. It took a while, but after the fifth or sixth cycle, my mind really started to settle. I was nervous, still, yes. However, I felt I had more control. Then my game was called up. I got on stage, did what I thought was right in the given situation. Then Trey blew the whistle. The audience applauded! And I smiled, full of relief and happiness, for the first time.
Clearly, as a professional actress, Christiane might not be nervous before shows anymore. Yet, as she gave me this advice, it also made me realize: She must have gone through this too. When she started, she might have felt the same as I did now. And so did every other Pirate, within the past 15 years. Because everybody needs to start somewhere. And the real question is never “When will I be there?” but always “What comes next?”
The Next Scene: Come Celebrate 15 Years of 'Yes'!
The 15th anniversary isn't just a party; it's a living, breathing testament to the power of saying "Yes, And" for a decade and a half.
It’s a celebration of the community that Mike started, the laughter we've shared, and the simple, joyous risk of stepping on stage without a script. It's an invitation for you to see how well this chaotic, wonderful puzzle fits together.
We've got the shirts ironed, the minds activated, and fifteen years of stories—some of which will be told, and many of which we'll make up on the spot!
Join us at 'What The Dickens' to celebrate 15 years of The Pirates of Tokyo Bay!
See you there!
