The “cry” doubles as a literal baby’s cry, because in the beginning of the game, Samus is saved from an evil monster (Mother Brain) by a mystical baby-in-a-womb whose death gives Samus great power. “It was as though it was crying specifically for me,” Samus says in voice-over narration. In the narrative, Samus enters herself into battle because she hears a “Baby’s Cry,” also known in the game as a distress signal from another spaceship. Samus walks with more of a real woman’s body (heavy thighs and booty, average chest), although she is fatless and strong, and cute.Īnd here’s the matronly part. In most video games, female protagonists and antagonists come in two shapely sizes: A) Angelina Jolie-esque Lara Crofts (big up top and firm below, plus impossibly thin) and B) the Japanese anime-influenced waif, the stick figure (possibly with ample bosoms but possibly boy-flat). And bear with me here: Samus has large hips and small breasts for a video game character. In “Other M,” we see behind the mask and outfit in many cinematic scenes. While portraying her, we just ran forward, scanning rooms for evil lurkers, then shot them to bits. But in previous “Metroid Prime” games, we didn’t see her face or body, or hear her voice or story. The feminist rub is, we portray Samus - a woman who is not dressed like a hussy, and who outwardly stands up against a pandering, male military system, literally turning her thumb down against a male commander (and romantic interest) who gives her orders.
In “Metroid: Other M,” we portray a supersoldier (a bounty hunter, actually) in outer space, blowing away evil beings who are bent on power or anarchy. You don’t get to call a gun-filled, action video game “feminist” or “matronly” every day.
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