prokopetz:

prokopetz:

prokopetz:

Look, I know facile trope inversion is for weenies, but I still really want to see a JRPG-style game where the shouty teenage boy who gives long speeches about the power of friendship is the fragile healer and the girl with the gentle piano-and-strings theme song and self-sacrificing “must save everyone” attitude is the melee tank. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable here.

I’m not even being ironic – I honestly think it would work better that way. Like, let’s put power-of-friendship boy in a position where he actually needs to rely on his friends to get anything done, rather than just talking about how they’ve inspired him while he solos the final boss. And as for Little Miss Messiah Complex, well, tell me you can’t perfectly picture how the standard tank protagonist move where you intercept a blow meant for a critically wounded party member, facetank a fucktillion points of damage, then get back up again with one hit point and a voice quip about how the baddies will have to do better than that would play out under her idiom. You can see it, right?

People in the notes are looking at the second one saying “that’s just She-Ra, that’s just–” no, it isn’t. Gentle piano-and-strings theme song, remember? It’s essential that each archetype’s stock personality remain intact, and only the role changes.

She’s sweet. She’s humble. She wears homespun dresses and grows pretty flowers in her free time. She has that vibe that says “I’m going to die halfway through the game to make my boyfriend sad”, except that doesn’t happen, because the baddies don’t have a big enough gun.

I want to see the obligatory scene where the bad guy’s army is burning down her Beloved Peasant Village™, and she’s standing between the evil commander and a group of soulful orphans, begging with tears in her eyes for him to see that there’s already been enough death – except when he callously rejects her entreaties and moves to backhand her out of the way, she catches his armoured fist mid-swing, without even the faintest tremor of effort, and in a tone of infinite patience informs him: “You misunderstand, sir: it’s not our lives I’m pleading for.”

And then she punches people until all the soldiers run away and feels conflicted about it afterwards.