So thanks in part to an incredible on-campus performance of “Heathers” my boyfriend and I went to recently, my love for this musical has been rekindled. And just in time for terrible, horrible tragedy to strike – of course. A “Heathers” remake.
Oh god. Here we go.
So I’ve, regrettably, gotten back into Fire Emblem: Heroes. I swore I wouldn’t play it until they added my beloved husband Silas, but I recently went against my promise due to… jealousy, mainly. I’m now a part of a Fire Emblem themed Discord with a couple of friends and their discussion about the game made me miss it somewhat. So I started playing again.
And it’s been fun! Even though I still can’t play as my husband, I do get to play as a lot of other favorite Fire Emblem characters. I get to pull for them in the gacha, train them up, and even back them in gauntlets. In fact, for the last gauntlet, I was excited to back up Camilla, one of my favorite characters from Fates (see the entire blog post I wrote about her).
That is, until I popped onto tumblr and saw the drama raging around her inclusion (as well as Tharja’s), in the gauntlet, mostly revolving around the fact that, as two of the most sexualized characters, they were automatically incredibly popular and thus shoe-ins for the finale. That’s not exactly what happened, but it still promoted a discussion I, personally, find very interesting.
So how much fan service is too much fan service, anyway?
A few years ago, my mother sat on my bed and told me that I shouldn’t hate men.
“Some men are bad, honey,” she said, “But there are also great men out there. You shouldn’t hate them all.”
At the time, I was frustrated. I had just got done telling her about Anita Sarkeesian’s “Women in Gaming” series, which I had binged that day, and it had awoken my mind to a big, giant, societal problem that I had never been able to bring into context the way she could. Suddenly, for the first time, someone else understood what it was like to be a girl wanting to see herself reflected in the culture she consumed. A girl who wasn’t a damsel, or a hardened (but still sexy) badass, or a flimsy love interest. Just. A hero. A main character. With agency and flaws and a story everyone could relate to.