Recently I have been playing otome games; wherein you play a female character who has her choice of men. These games are often contain awkward and uncomfortable scenarios that I would no way endorse in real life, yet it’s like a train wreck: I can’t look away. I don’t read the sex scenes because they’re steamy and erotic; they probably are, but for me, they’re laugh out loud funny.
Don’t get me wrong. I respect the writers, artists, and game developers very much. Their erotic writing is about 1000% better than mine could ever be. For me, there’s something inherently ridiculous about sex scenes, especially the really erotic ones. (I could go on about unrealistic expectations, how stories like this set them up, and why people get disappointed, but let’s save that for another time).
I don’t have any desire to seduce multiple men in real life. I think it would be awkward, rather than romantic, if they were all in love with me at the same time. The scenarios are almost never stories I would wish upon myself.
So why do I bother?
I’m a sucker for a good getting-together story (hell, I’m an even worse sucker for a bad getting-together story). Feelings of nausea war with feelings of happiness to produce one of my favourite emotions. I don’t know what to call it. Hausea? Nauppiness? It’s delightfully revolting. I feel like that should be a commercial.
I generally don’t read romance novels, but there’s almost always romance in every story. I’m an avid fantasy fan, and good fantasy is always made better by good romance. I suppose it’s the human condition; we’re obsessed with other people’s love (and sex) lives.
Are otome games a guilty pleasure? Yes. Do I regret trying to obtain all the achievements? Not even a little. Am I going to play more of them once I finish the new Sherlock Holmes game? Yes, yes I am.
Do I care that some people would say I’m “not a real gamer”? Nope. I do not. I also play games like the Witcher, and yeah, I’m not into first-person shooters, but only because people on the internet tend to get overly competitive and turn into a bunch of assholes.
So go ahead, call me a “filthy casual.” I don’t mind. I’ve got the t-shirt and everything.