Jokes aside (the jokes are inevitable at this rate), maybe the custom character feature will put the mobian OCs on a positive light.
Like, when people see a mobian OC, they instantly deem as “cringe” and/or “mary-sue”/“gary-stu” (DeviantART is to blame), and it gets a bad reputation, as the fandom itself also has a bad reputation.
I call that bullshit.
When you create an OC, you’re actually practicing and exploring your creativity potential, and possibly, adopting a new persona (that’s the self-inserts’ case), and this is great. There’s nothing wrong with being self-indulgent (as I am self-indulgent myself), and this is an oportunity to remodel and fix that old overpowered character of yours (don’t lie, we all had an cringe-worthy OP character), and plus: there’s nothing wrong with an overpowered character (just look at Son Goku and Saitama for an example; overpowered, and yet the people love them!)
Like, if we’re going to demonize OCs and self-inserts, then we should burn all the games that feature customized characters and shit on game companies and their consoles for having an avatar feature (Mii for Nintendo, and Avatar for XBOX) and burn everything down.
Gameplay wise, from what I’ve seen, it’s heavily based on DragonBall Xenoverse series (this game also used the custom character feature), as you have different character/species types with certain advantages that could be helpful in-game and such.
Like, if DBXV did it, and it aided in some people into coming up with their own characters and stories (I’ve seen lots of DragonBall OCs pop out after Xenoverse came out, and they were absolutely superb!), then why can’t SEGA/Sonic Team do it too?
Like, quit bein’ a salty ass, and join the fun! Where’s the crime in being able to create a character yourself, huh? None! Zero! Zilch!
Go ahead and have fun! Expand your horizons! Live your wildest dreams! Let your imagination run wild and free!
You walked with your arms wrapped around yourself, hugging
your black leather jacket to yourself. The night air was cold, and you could
see your breath in front of your nose. Your hair curled in the wind as your
boots splashed in the puddles on the pavement. You heard a soft growl behind
you and looked up as headlights lit the world in front of you. You let out an
exasperated sigh and stuck out your thumb.
The car sped past without so much as slowing down. You
grimaced to yourself as the red truck drove away into the night, leaving you
alone to keep walking on the lone, dark highway.
You normally didn’t resort to hitchhiking, but this was your
And you weren’t about to go back. Not now.
You heard another car approach and you turned around to face
the vehicle as it advanced. You released your grip on your jacket, revealing a
tiny bit of your stomach in the crop top you wore as you walked backward,
holding out your thumb again.
If you had learned anything in your line of work, it was
that a little skin could get you a long way.
However, you were a little surprised when the approaching
car actually slowed down. You stopped walking so the black vehicle could brake
beside you. You slung your backpack over your shoulder as the car came to a
stop beside you, concealing a small dagger in the fold of your jacket as you
That was another thing you had learned in your line of work,
never leave home without a knife.
You stood still as the window of the black car rolled down.
You pushed your hair behind your ear and leaned into the window.
“Hey.” A low, gravelly voice spoke from the darkness. You
looked in, ignoring your instinctual trepidation. You found yourself staring
into the nice interior of an old car, probably a 60-something Chevrolet. In the
driver’s seat sat one of the most attractive men you had ever seen, leaning
back with a small smirk on nearly perfect lips. His eyes were green and
smiling, so you smiled back, biting your lip.
“Hey.” You leaned into the window further, exposing more of
you to the man’s view; but despite your act, you were ready to whip out your
knife at a moment’s notice. You knew how to play these games; and you never
lost. You had met some of the scariest
things in the world; freakily attractive men were no problem, although you
highly doubted he was entirely normal as you noticed a small cut on his
“Where are you heading?” The man asked, leaning forward on
the steering wheel.
You inhaled softly. The car smelled of whiskey, leather, and
cologne. You ran your hand along your back, feeling for the other knife you
kept stashed in your shirt. You cast the man the sweetest smile you could
muster, blinking up at him through your lashes. “Anywhere but here.”
You saw the man’s mouth pull into a smirk, an unbelievably
handsome one at that. He bit his lip and you smiled back. “Well then, if you
are heading nowhere, I think I can give you a lift.”
He leaned over and swung open the passenger door with one
hand, smirking up at you.
“Thank you.” You smiled back, getting in the car next to
him. You closed the door, and before you had your seat belt fastened, he was
driving away. He leaned over the radio and turned up the volume and you were
whisked away to the sounds of a collection of 70’s and 80’s music.
i want to scream. i want to stand outside in a field, at night, and just let sounds of anger and frustration and agony and months of pent-up emotions just rip from my body. maybe then, everything will finally just… stop. maybe it will stop.
“Mirror mirror mirror on the wall
Telling those lies
Pointing at your flaws
That isn’t who you are”
I was listening to this song this morning and thinking about how much our body image comes from those things we heard from friends and family growing up. But that isn’t who you are. You’re much more than what you see in the mirror.