Wanted to take a break from all the sexist designs I keep seeing by showing an actual good one. This is the villain of Shovel Knight, and wow is it refreshing to see a female villain that isn't all cleavage and panties. She’s still beautiful, her outfit is still awesome, and you can still get the idea that she’s a seductress without her showing any skin at all. We really need to stop this trend that all female villains are seductresses (and boy doesn’t that say a lot that a woman being “confident in her sexuality”, as anti-feminists like to argue, means that she’s actually evil) and start making women that are actually interesting and have well thought out designs instead of the silly and lazy metal bikinis.
While this does very arguably play into the Evil is Sexy trope I feel it’s worth pointing out that if you have a world full of people in their armor a little shapeliness goes a long way. You don’t need windows and holework to show off every allowable inch of skin - the message can be conveyed quite clearly with full covering dress.
If only more character designers took queues from creative and successful predecessors (like Maleficent, in this case) instead of blindly following the “sex sells” myth… We would, at the very least, see more than just characters and costumes made according to a “creative” checklist.
Still, this particular one could be a bit less obvious about its inspiration.
Screenshots of my character in Skyforge. In this game there is no armor but costumes, I’ve taken screenshots of some examples. The first one is the least skimpy although it has boobplate. All available costumes come with high heels. The last one is leaving me speechless especially because of the fact that this game takes pride in “boobs jiggle physics”. It’s hard to believe how someone can fight in that thing without their jelly boobs jiggling out.
He rests his head against the cool glass, watching the flash of lightning and what seemed to be an endless torrent of rain. Calum sighs, glancing at the black leather notebook resting on the table.
It’s always the same notebook. Not once did he ever change the color, the brand, the size.
Calum reaches for it, flipping to his latest entry. He bites his lip as he reads it, trying to suppress a smile. Each page contained a detailed drawing of you, provided with pages and pages worth of emotions and descriptions of happened that day. He runs his finger over the words, a faint blush settling upon his cheeks when he remembers the way your fingers felt on his cheeks.
Calum shakes his head. You barely know him - how could anyone love someone if they don’t even know that person? It’s foolish of him to think of your relationship in that way. Besides, it would only be a relationship filled with closed doors and a head filled with questions. He could never do that to you.
Innocent you who had her curiosity piqued by a boy with tainted lips and couldn’t answer the countless questions thrown at him. You don’t deserve this sort of treatment, this sort of heartbreak.
That doesn’t stop him from thinking about your lips would feel like on his.
“What’s your favourite colour?”
“Colours are just emotions. There’s no such thing as a ‘favourite colour’.”
You didn’t understand. Was it that difficult for him to voice out his opinion for once? Days after he told you about the notebooks, the only straight answer you got was a flat ‘no’.
God, it didn’t help that you were dying to find out what he wrote about you in those damn notebooks.
You groan, shuffling down the hall. When you open your door, there’s no one except a notebook lying on the ground.
Not all questions can be answered yet, but this will answer one of them.
You look around before closing the door, the worn black leather notebook in your hand. It doesn’t take long for you to flip to the first page.
Finally. An insight is provided for the mysterious boy. Yet… It feels like an invasion of privacy, as if you were snooping through his things even though he had given you his notebook willingly.
You close the notebook with a sigh.
He’s nerv- no, he’s anxious.
What would you say? Please say yes.
You’re walking over, and he feels his palms sweating. Shit.
You hand him the notebook and mumble, “I’m sorry”. He’s dejected, the notebook in his hands feels a lot like a huge weight.
“I couldn’t read it. It was an invasion of privacy even though you were going to answer my questions. I-I’m sorry, Calum.”
“Wait!” Calum grabs your wrist, spinning you around. He opens the last page of the book and holds it up. This time, he’s the one with hopeful eyes.
I’D LIKE TO FIND THE ANSWERS TO YOUR QUESTIONS WITH YOU.