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I keep replaying our first kiss. I was so nervous I just sort of stared at her for several minutes and I didnt know what to do because I was so nervous. Finally when she asked me "what are you thinking?" I said "I'm really nervous but I want to kiss you" except I didnt get to finish my sentence because she was already launching herself towards me to kiss me. She's so incredible and I like her so much.
I'm going insane again over how MediEvil 2 very nearly had some interesting things to say about misogyny and classism, and completely missed every opportunity it had. And there is no better example of this than poor, misused Kiya, whose entire existence is filtered through the misogynistic male gaze in and out of universe.
In universe, the only information we have about her past is an optional book written in universe by a British Victorian man with all the biases that implies. Out of universe, her character design is informed by exactly two thoughts; "love interest - make her sexy" and "mummy - give her bandages." If you take the misogynistic white men at their word in and out of universe, Kiya is a sexy lamp whose whole purpose is to be fridged and then brought back, whose whole identity is a prize for Our Hero to win.
But MediEvil is all about lies and false histories. Stop and look at what we're shown about Kiya, not what we're told. It was her skills and knowledge that allowed Kift to build the creature in the Dankenstein levels, where the professor's own research had ended in failure years before. We know from this that Kiya must have embalming knowledge, and possibly even some necromancy. She could not have merely been some girl "plucked from abject poverty" as the in-game book puts it, but an embalmer and therefore a priestess of Anubis.
Kiya, who had been killed to follow her husband into the afterlife, went to fight Jack the Ripper on her own. She chose to join the fight even when the men around her wanted her to stay safe and useless. If not for her knowledge of embalming, Palethorn would have won about halfway through the game. She has an inner life and motives of her own which are ignored and overshadowed at every turn.
It's almost a meta-commentary on how women are treated, how she's dismissed by the narrative despite arguably having a clearer motive for her actions than Dan, who is mostly just running around doing what Kift says. But it's not a commentary, it's just misogynistic writing. It's just sexist character design, not a commentary on how society tries to shape women into sexualised abstractions of themselves.
Kiya is everything to me and yet she seems to be almost nothing to the people who created her, and that's so sad.
26 hour first date.
We spent the entire day talking and kissing and making out and I like her so much.
She's so kind and so thoughtful, and so smart, and so so so pretty.
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"Come with us," Kiya said, her gaze pleading. Cassian smiled regretfully. "She has no need of me where you're going." "But...we do," Kiya said. Her brother draped an arm over her shoulders, and though he wore an expression of irritation and censure as he tried to turn Kiya away, Cassian thought he knew enough about young men to see the hurt that festered beneath. "Oh? Not enough destitute gamblers in Tamar?" He smiled when she stuck her tongue out. "I have work here, twin two. I cannot." That was half the truth. He couldn't live in the same city where Amara was living out a life that didn't include him. And he didn't have a right to be near enough to mar whatever happiness this future she had planned would bring her. pg.357
He tapped the brush against the paint-strewn board, then swept it in short strokes, tilting his head and leaning to one side as he did. Then he did the same in the other direction. Kiya and Bek mirrored the movement. It was unexpected, how deeply the sight pierced her. How comfortable it was to watch him, and them together. How quickly her mind took the image and extrapolated it to the pleasure of always waking to such a sight. To how much she would love to be a part of this side of him. See it from start to finish. See him, from start to finish. To have known him as a boy, and see him when the grey had overtaken the black of his hair and age had refined him. pg.283
