If the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when Mikoto launches the titular railgun for the first time, no further evidence will be needed to understand that Toaru Kagaku no Railgun is a breed apart. Even when a large part of it is peppy storyline is fruitless meandering, the climaxes of the two main narratives tickle all the right areas of the brain for those looking for something different from the magically imbued children genre. The series is funny without using fan-service, touching without being saccharine and poignant without being overbearing - a grab-bag of amusing antics with a smattering of potent character-lead drama and, contrary to the title, maintains a pleasant disregard towards science.

Set in the same modernist city as its predecessor, Toaru Majutusu no Index (A Certain Magical Index), Academy city's primary form of law enforcement is the volunteer service, "Judgement". A key member of the 7th District's branch is Kuroko Shirai, a skilled teleport user who also happens to be the room mate of Mikoto Misaka, one of only a few fifth level ability users in the city. When an urban legend of a method to artificially increase one's ability level turns into fact, the number of petty crimes within the city's multitude of districts increases; more worrying however is the torpid state users fall into after limited use. A lugubrious researcher could be involved with the dissemination of the "Level Upper", but it is only the tip of a larger plot though, one which could well tear apart Academy city and those who reside within it.

Disregarding the first and thirteenth episodes which bookend the opening story arc, the series is delightfully free of the kind of lasciviousness one would expect from a cast made up entirely of the X chromosome. More pleasingly is a core set of protagonists without the overdeveloped, hyper-sexualised chest sizes that are now almost de rigeur for a modern series. Unfortunately this is made up for by the desperate, borderline maniacal homosexuality shown by the spunky Kuroko whose voice actor must be credited for the cacophony of weedy grunting and squawking produced when the character is in throes of another, frequent delusion. This level of straightforwardness is refreshing, especially when contrasted against other relationships, implied or otherwise, which cover a wide range of situations from a junior's adoration of senior to the weak congregating around the strong. Regardless, they are treated with a distant respect and never interfere with the pacing beyond a selection of trite but mercifully short speeches. Even Kuroko's blind adoration of Mikoto is progressively toned down, eventually becoming background noise just as all potential humour has been wrung from it.

By and large, the drama within the series has roots in the commoditisation of special abilities. Many series, western ones included, have struggled with this concept: increasing the roster of characters and abilities dilutes the uniqueness of existing ones. By removing the specialness of the abilities however, the onus shifts to those without, in this case Ruiko, and how they come to terms with being surrounded by peers more gifted than they are. It's a fabulous cross-up and is exploited from both ends of the scale with Mikoto, in the top tier of capability, ignorantly disregarding her friend's worries, through to Ruiko and her inner conflict with the existence of the Level Upper. Glorifying those with strength and talent but without abilities while keeping many character's abilities a secret ensures the approach is kept pertinent and fresh as well as being surprisingly well explored.

What truly sets the series apart however is its understanding of conflict. Beyond the catty and childish squabbles of the cast is the hope that when characters display fantastical abilities, the most salient demonstration of their powers is to fight. With only a few such instances in the entire twenty four episode run, they are still frustratingly sparse but make up for this by being balls-t0-the-wall brilliant. Fast, brutal and free of the pace-killing monologues which are so often interspersed, these fights are the crowning achievements of the series and more than worth the price of admission. Key aspects of the abilities are smartly exposed prior to the battles, meaning there are no breaks for a full discourse on unfolding events. Most disappointing of all however is the lack of combat with other high level characters despite being hinted at and the second story's focus on the mythical level six - this is of small matter though when what's on offer is so spectacular.

The conflict however would only be half as good were it not for a panoply of superb antagonists which run the gamut from a wonderfully ambiguous researcher to an insane, power mad scientist. The series subverts expectations with constant misdirection, turning the needlessly evil into convincingly sympathetic and the obvious perpetrator into hapless victim. The bread and butter of the series however is the conventional street thugs who seem unusually prevalent in Academy city - all dressed in garish colours and sporting ridiculous hair styles, their brash arrogance makes them perfect fodder for continual beatings, especially when they are not above delivering a swift kick to the solar plexus of children and girls. This dynamic is toyed with in one of the shorter side stories late in the series, by then thought their relevancy has entirely wanted.

Lamentably this is indicative of the greater part of the second half of the series which, after the perfunctory beach episode, toils needlessly until the final four episodes. The opening story worked well in the time allotted and crafted a gratifying build up to its superb culmination; subsequent episodes however only have a tenuous connection to the the final story and even then it is mired in technobabble and jarring personality shifts. The finale, while impressive, ignores some of the more pertinent mysteries such as what happened to the morally bankrupt scientist who set much of the story in motion, or why the mech-loving facilities director followed in his footsteps. Most of this can be explained by the source manga which was followed closely for the first twelve episodes, but then an original story crafted for the next twelve. The results speak for themselves with a second half that lacks focus and makes many of the earlier, slower episodes seem swift by comparison.

Most satisfying of all is the quality and consistency of animation throughout the series which rarely dips below excellent. Coming from JC Staff, who have a spotty history at best, this is doubly surprising and their trademark clean and bright visuals are front and centre bolstered by some remarkably fluid motion in the high action scenes. There is little to compare it with apart from the obvious Toaru Majutusu no Index, however at times it has the likeness to early Full Metal Panic episodes, whereas at others it seems to channel My-HiME - the latter unsurprising given the director's brief involvement and the strong similarity in personality between Mikoto and Mai. In all, the production is supremely confident and accomplished, even I've Sound's musical accompaniment is unintrusive, just as the pair of frenetic openings and lilting endings are fitting if not entirely memorable.

Toaru Kagaku no Railgun's spacey, wandering plot will be the biggest irritation for some, the sporadically amusing but rarely funny shenanigans falling well short of the promise held by the series' concept. For others, the happy, light-hearted frolics are easy and unchallenging padding: pleasant precursors building to sublime crescendos. Far from a brainless but sporadically childish, the series has a lot to offer but for some it will be a war of attrition upon their patience. Losing oneself in the series' world is key to its enjoyment and will make Mikoto's flick of a coin all the more tantalising.