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(This article contains spoilers for Command and Conquer: Red Alert 2.)
The games I play are not made for me. They never have been, and I doubt they ever will be.
I’ll never forget the moment I realized I was not the target demographic for my favorite franchises. It was 2001, I was 12 years old, and I had just beaten the real-time strategy title Red Alert 2. I was excited to see the concluding cut-scene; as a young history buff, I appreciated the cheesy story and hammed-up acting.
I’ve always viewed cinematic conclusions as a reward for completing a game. It isn’t enough to simply tease a sequel or end abruptly, and Red Alert 2’s team took this sentiment to heart. The ending featured the two female leads vying to be the player’s escort to a victory party while wearing semi-revealing cocktail dresses.
It wasn't overly gratuitous, but as I watched, my heart fell. This was around the same time that I started to wonder about Lara Croft. For years I had idolized Ms. Croft, but as I got older, I began to wonder if her popularity had less to do with her smarts as an adventurer and more to do with her other “assets.”
As the years went by, I largely stopped noticing how developers portray women. It's not that I don’t care; I’ve just developed immunity to it. I’ve even awarded a de facto exemption to some genres, like fighters and Japanese role-playing games.
But periodically, something happens that reminds me that I should probably care more. Two years ago, I was playing Soul Caliber 4 in the living room of the apartment I shared with three other women. One of my roommates sat down next to me and watched for awhile. This wasn’t unusual. My roommates viewed my hobby as a lovable quirk. Eventually, I glanced her way and saw a disgusted look on her face. I was fighting against Ivy, she of the notoriously large breasts and buns. I hadn’t considered how the character must look to someone unfamiliar with the design tropes of video games. I actually felt my face start to burn.
I had another moment like this last week when I caught a glimpse of the newest Mortal Kombat’s character-select screen. Each of the female competitors features more than her fair share of cleavage — so much so that I actually felt a little uncomfortable.
My first thought was, “This is not a game I will be playing in front of my female friends. Ever.”
I mean, I get it. Designers don't create these characters to appeal to me. I represent a very small percentage of the fighting-game community. But why can't I have just one? All I want is a single female character who doesn’t enter the ring with her breasts two-thirds exposed? Most other titles in the genre at least give me that.
But even worse than my disappointment is the fact that I’m part of the problem. I’m going to buy Mortal Kombat the day it comes out, and eventually, I’ll stop noticing the character designs. My dollars will implicitly indicate approval, not frustration.
Still, no matter how much I enable them, I hope that developers will try to remember one thing: The games I play are not made for me. But that doesn’t mean I don’t exist.
This article was originally posted on DigitalHippos.com.