Van Dormael splinters a single life into incompatible parallel memories, treating identity as a contingent path rather than a continuous essence. Like Kaiba, it equates the act of choosing what to remember with the act of choosing who to be, and locates tenderness in the seams between forgotten lives.

Hertzfeldt's stick-figure cosmology imagines a future where consciousness is cloned, archived, and economically stratified, with the wealthy hoarding pristine memories while the poor inherit corrupted ones. Its bright, childlike geometry against catastrophic loss mirrors Kaiba's strategy of clothing existential horror in disarmingly soft forms.

Two strangers volunteer their consciousness to a pharmaceutical trial that braids their memories into shared dreams, exposing how grief is encoded as much in the body as in the mind. Like Kaiba, it treats memory as something that leaks across containers, and finds redemption in the imperfect translation of one self into another.

Damo Suzuki's glossolalic vocals and the band's circular rhythms enact a self that fractures, repeats, and reassembles across long durations, dissolving authorship into collective trance. Its refusal of stable subjectivity parallels Kaiba's treatment of personality as a porous medium that overflows the body containing it.