SJW Art and Extremes

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Why does Tumblr have an obsession with vitiligo?

  • Suicide Girl model and America's Next Top Model contestant have it, spread on Tumblr, that's why.

    Votes: 703 16.1%
  • Stop fucking asking this this question.

    Votes: 508 11.7%
  • I swear to God I will start deleting these posts.

    Votes: 154 3.5%
  • Goddammit.

    Votes: 409 9.4%
  • ACTUALLY IT'S PART OF A DEEP FALSE-FLAG OPERATION TO TURN ALL BLACK PEOPLE WHITE.

    Votes: 2,586 59.3%

  • Total voters
    4,359
The spectrum of Overwatch artist styles is enormous. You go from this:

tumblr_ojn4ygvbhd1tuwbnyo1_1280.png

all the way to stuff like this:

tumblr_oill5ocT8K1r28s1no1_1280.png
 
Isn't Pearl and Peridot skinny/almost as skinny as Lapis? And Rose wore an dress that went all the way to her feet? Why do people only complain about Lapis's design of being thin with an dress? Also, anyone else find it funny that most of these people are the same ones who will go apeshit if anyone white cosplays as Garnet, or draw Rose skinny?
It's because Pearl has small tits. If you drew her fat she'd have big tits and THAT'S BAD BECAUSE SHE HAS SMALL TITS AND DONT MAKE THEM BIG FOR THE MALE GAZE
 
It's because Pearl has small tits. If you drew her fat she'd have big tits and THAT'S BAD BECAUSE SHE HAS SMALL TITS AND DONT MAKE THEM BIG FOR THE MALE GAZE

But the fucking small tits are also for the male gaze. I don't even watch that fucking show and that character is obviously tilted toward that very cis, very straight, very male demographic. In addition to the troons, obviously.
 
I wasn't sure where to put this, but I've noticed a trend that I like to call Tumblr/SJW Girls.

Tumblr Girls
Traits:
The women must usually be of average appearance or lower. Though there is more bodily variety, femininity (unless its Sailor Moon) is usually downplayed. Weird noses and mouths.
Clothes: Armor should not show any hints that they have boobs. Stuff that shows cleavage, femininity (to a lesser extent) or sexuality are no-nos.
Exceptions: Sailor Moon (and the Scouts) are almost always the exception. Even if a cleavage-exposing, skimpier outfit (like Power Girl's boob-window) is in character, it doesn't matter and they'll link to some comic by Aaron Diaz.
The Good: Unlike Escher Girls (the other extreme), who all look like clones, the characters have more variety so I'll give them that.

The reason I bring this all up is for a way to find to see humor, be annoyed and talk about bad designs and ideals behind the Tumblr Girls designs. Here's an example.
That picture looks pretty normal and realistic to me, so I don't see the problem with it as much as I detest SJW types, sorry.

I'd much rather see art that actually resembles a real life woman somewhat, than something that looks either like a mutant with elephant testicles growing where their tatas should be, or the the concoction of the perverted imagination of some schizophrenic anime fan myself.

Don't see anything "SJW" about this picture:

7e1816d348694b0775a23b1c633b7a8c780b7e0f.jpg
 
That picture looks pretty normal and realistic to me, so I don't see the problem with it as much as I detest SJW types, sorry.

I'd much rather see art that actually resembles a real life woman somewhat, than something that looks either like a mutant with elephant testicles growing where their tatas should be, or the the concoction of the perverted imagination of some schizophrenic anime fan myself.

Don't see anything "SJW" about this picture:

7e1816d348694b0775a23b1c633b7a8c780b7e0f.jpg

...that's not the example. Scroll down for the actual examples.
 
That picture looks pretty normal and realistic to me, so I don't see the problem with it as much as I detest SJW types, sorry.

I'd much rather see art that actually resembles a real life woman somewhat, than something that looks either like a mutant with elephant testicles growing where their tatas should be, or the the concoction of the perverted imagination of some schizophrenic anime fan myself.

Don't see anything "SJW" about this picture:

7e1816d348694b0775a23b1c633b7a8c780b7e0f.jpg
You really should of scrolled down further to see the redesigns. Even then, the post you responded to is a year old. Ought to reply to things that are more up to date.
 
That picture looks pretty normal and realistic to me, so I don't see the problem with it as much as I detest SJW types, sorry.

I'd much rather see art that actually resembles a real life woman somewhat, than something that looks either like a mutant with elephant testicles growing where their tatas should be, or the the concoction of the perverted imagination of some schizophrenic anime fan myself.

Don't see anything "SJW" about this picture:

7e1816d348694b0775a23b1c633b7a8c780b7e0f.jpg
There's over 200 pages, my dude.
 
That picture looks pretty normal and realistic to me, so I don't see the problem with it as much as I detest SJW types, sorry.

I'd much rather see art that actually resembles a real life woman somewhat, than something that looks either like a mutant with elephant testicles growing where their tatas should be, or the the concoction of the perverted imagination of some schizophrenic anime fan myself.

Don't see anything "SJW" about this picture:

7e1816d348694b0775a23b1c633b7a8c780b7e0f.jpg
So...you just didn't happen to see the 305 other pages and the date of the first post in this thread?
 
Guess not...

Edit - Looked it over and other than the artist for the "SJW" art being pretty awful I think it looked more realistic. I'd prefer a female soldier in a video game to actually look like a soldier myself, but that's just me - much better than having 'soldiers' in a game with bolt-on stripper boobs.
 
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Guess not...

Edit - Looked it over and other than the artist for the "SJW" art being pretty awful I think it looked more realistic. I'd prefer a female soldier in a video game to actually look like a soldier myself, but that's just me - much better than having 'soldiers' in a game with bolt-on stripper boobs.
I mean, sure. Real Life Cammy wouldn't go into a real combat situation dressed 1 kick away from a major wardrobe malfunction.
The bigger problem is that in every redesign, it gives the message that girls aren't allowed to wear anything remotely revealing whatsoever - even the god damn succubus character has a diaphragm window as the raciest she's "allowed" to be. Not every character has to have her ass and titties hanging out, no, but that doesn't mean every single one has to be dressed like a Good Christian Girl trying to slouch their boobs out of sight and mind.
It's what makes sexy character redesigns so boring and even offensive at times, it removes personality and variety entirely. I-no at the end, for example, her original design tells you her personality at a glance. The redesign? Uh, rebellious teenage witch I guess? She no longer comes across as the sassy and aggressive troublemaker (to put it lightly) that she is. Felicia no longer looks like an incredibly playful and energetic fighter, she just looks like a nerd from the wrong decade with an affinity for the furry.

Those redesigns aren't on the worst side of SJW redesigns, but they share the same symptom of removing everything recognizable from a character in the name of being ugly instead. What's the point if you can't tell what makes the fictional character interesting anymore?
 
I mean, sure. Real Life Cammy wouldn't go into a real combat situation dressed 1 kick away from a major wardrobe malfunction.
The bigger problem is that in every redesign, it gives the message that girls aren't allowed to wear anything remotely revealing whatsoever - even the god damn succubus character has a diaphragm window as the raciest she's "allowed" to be. Not every character has to have her ass and titties hanging out, no, but that doesn't mean every single one has to be dressed like a Good Christian Girl trying to slouch their boobs out of sight and mind.
It's what makes sexy character redesigns so boring and even offensive at times, it removes personality and variety entirely. I-no at the end, for example, her original design tells you her personality at a glance. The redesign? Uh, rebellious teenage witch I guess? She no longer comes across as the sassy and aggressive troublemaker (to put it lightly) that she is. Felicia no longer looks like an incredibly playful and energetic fighter, she just looks like a nerd from the wrong decade with an affinity for the furry.

Those redesigns aren't on the worst side of SJW redesigns, but they share the same symptom of removing everything recognizable from a character in the name of being ugly instead. What's the point if you can't tell what makes the fictional character interesting anymore?
For me has more to do with the context. Having a female be nude or in revealing attire in a situation where that would be the norm, such as in a sex scene or a bordello or something works for me. Having it shorehorned into situations where it doesn't even fit or make sense just for the sake of showing T&A for the wanking pleasure of neckbeards is pretty cheesy to me.

I don't see that as a SJ issue, just more of an art critic issue. Kind of like the difference between a TV show like the Sopranos which is a fairly realistic portrayal of mafia violence, versus a horrible film like Final Destination where there's no plot at all, just boring CGI violence which makes Kenny's death scenes in South Park look realistic by comparison.

As far as Cammy goes, I was never a big Street Fighter player so I can't really comment. Some of those redesigns did look pretty bad, but some of the 'original' designs were incredibly cheesy to begin with.
 
For me has more to do with the context. Having a female be nude or in revealing attire in a situation where that would be the norm, such as in a sex scene or a bordello or something works for me.

Having it shorehorned into situations where it doesn't even fit or make sense just for the sake of showing T&A for the wanking pleasure of neckbeards is pretty cheesy to me.
M'lady.
 
What can I say? I have good taste. Plus the modern standards of entertainment are so dumbed down that you can't really get any dumber anyway, so any effort to up the standards seems like a decent venture regardless of politics, I see it not as a partisan issue, just a counter- reaction to much of the extreme degeneracy that followed the radical Baby Boomers in the 1960s.
 
IMG_2140.PNG

The...the fuck is that?
What can I say? I have good taste. Plus the modern standards of entertainment are so dumbed down that you can't really get any dumber anyway, so any effort to up the standards seems like a decent venture regardless of politics, I see it not as a partisan issue, just a counter- reaction to much of the extreme degeneracy that followed the radical Baby Boomers in the 1960s.
IMG_2132.GIF
 
What can I say? I have good taste. Plus the modern standards of entertainment are so dumbed down that you can't really get any dumber anyway, so any effort to up the standards seems like a decent venture regardless of politics, I see it not as a partisan issue, just a counter- reaction to much of the extreme degeneracy that followed the radical Baby Boomers in the 1960s.
Hahahaha as if the past didn't have it's fair share of shitty, tasteless entertainment. Please read Gynecocracy, 19th century sissy erotica, and The Romance of Lust for good measure, m'gentlesir.
 
Hahahaha as if the past didn't have it's fair share of shitty, tasteless entertainment. Please read Gynecocracy, 19th century sissy erotica, and The Romance of Lust for good measure, m'gentlesir.

Those have nothing on 120 Days of Sodom, you're a lightweight

http://supervert.com/elibrary/marquis_de_sade/

The big difference however is that the past didn't have mass corporate industries pumping it out, so it wasn't quite as ubiquitous however.

Just as there was not the same level of auto pollution in the days of 'horseless carriages' as in today's mass transit system, so that's a weak argument which has been done to death.

On his deathbed, he made the Bishop privy to his intentions and entrusted him with these two immense endowments: he divided the sum, put them in two purses, and gave them to the Bishop, confiding the two orphans' education to this man of God and enlisting him to pass on to each what was to be his when they attained their majority. At the same time he enjoyed the prelate to invest his wards' funds, so that in the meantime they would double in size. He also affirmed that it was his design to leave his offsprings' mother in eternal ignorance of what he was doing for them, and he absolutely insisted that none of this should ever be mentioned to her.

These arrangements concluded, the dying man closed his eyes, and Monseigneur found himself master of about a million in banknotes, and of two children. The scoundrel was not long deliberating his next step: the dying man had spoken to no one but him, the mother was to know nothing, the children were only four or five years old. He circulated the intelligence that his friend, upon expiring, had left his fortune to the poor; the rascal acquired it the same day. But to ruin those wretched children did not suffice; furnished with authority by their father, the Bishop -- who never committed one crime without instantly conceiving another -- had the children removed from the remote pension in which they were being brought up, and placed them under the roof of certain people in his hire, from the outset having resolved soon to make them serve his perfidious lust.

He waited until they were thirteen; the little boy was the first to arrive at that age: the Bishop put him to use, bent him to all his debauches, and as he was extremely pretty, sported with him for a week. But the little girl fared less well: she reached the prescribed age, but was very ugly, a fact which had no mitigating effect upon the good Bishop's lubricious fury. His desires appeased, he feared lest these children, left alive, would someday discover something of the secret of their interests. Therefore, he conducted them to an estate belonging to his brother and, sure of recapturing, by means of a new crime, the sparks of lechery enjoyment had just caused him to lose, he immolated both of them to his ferocious passions, and accompanied their death with episodes so piquant and so cruel that his voluptuousness was reborn in the midst of the torments wherewith he beset them. The thing is, unhappily, only too well known: there is no libertine at least a little steeped in vice who is not aware of the great sway murder exerts over the senses, and how voluptuously it determines a discharge. And that is a general truth whereof it were well the reader be early advised before undertaking the perusal of a work which will surely attempt an ample development of this system.

Henceforth at ease in the face of whatever might transpire, Monseigneur returned to Paris to enjoy the fruit of his misdeeds, and without the least qualms about having counteracted the intentions of a man who, in his present situation, was in no state to derive either pain or pleasure therefrom.
 
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Those have nothing on 120 Days of Sodom, you're a lightweight

http://supervert.com/elibrary/marquis_de_sade/

The big difference however is that the past didn't have mass corporate industries pumping it out, so it wasn't quite as ubiquitous however.

Just as there was not the same level of auto pollution in the days of 'horseless carriages' as in today's mass transit system, so that's a weak argument which has been done to death.
Ah yes, back when everything ran on coal, there was not massive air pollution. You are talking out of your ass. The Victorian times was well known for it's air and water pollution in urban areas.
 

"There, you see, that way, my little one, while one hand is busy there, let one finger of your other hand gradually work its way into this delicious crack...."

He adjusted my hands.

"That's the way, yes... Well! Don't you feel anything?" he asked, keeping me to my task.

"No, Father, I truly don't," I answered most naively.

"Ah, that's because you are still too young, but two years from now you'll see the pleasures it gives."

"Wait," I interrupted, "I think something's happening."

And with all imaginable vigor I rubbed the places he had pointed out.... Yes, sure enough, a few faint titillations convinced me that what I'd begun was worth continuing, and the extensive use I have made ever since of this relief-providing exercise has more than once persuaded me of my master's competence.

"And now 'tis my turn," said Etienne, "for your pleasures arouse my desires, and I simply must share them, my angel. Here we are; take this," he said, inviting me to grip a tool so monstrous my two little hands were scarce able to close around it, "take this, my child, 'tis called a prick, and this movement here," he went on, guiding my wrists in rapid jerks, "this action is called frigging. Thus, by means of this action you frig my prick. Go to it, my child, put all your strength to it. The more rapid and persistent your movements, the more you will hasten a moment which, believe me, I cherish. But bear one essential thing in mind," he added, all the while directing my flying hands, "be careful at all times to keep the tip uncovered. Never allow this skin, we call it the prepuce, to cover it over; were this prepuce to happen to cover this part, which we call the glans, all my pleasure would vanish. That's it; we're shortly going to see something, my little one," my teacher continued, "watch me do on you what you did on me."

And pressing himself against my chest as he spoke and as I kept in motion, he placed his hands so adroitly, he wriggled his fingers with such high art that pleasure rose at last to grip me, and it is without a shadow of a doubt to him I owe my initiation. And then, my head reeling, I abandoned my task, and the reverend, not yet ready to complete it, consented to forget his pleasure for a moment in order to devote himself exclusively to cultivating mine; and when he had caused me to taste it all, he had me resume the work my ecstasy had obliged me to interrupt, and very expressly enjoined me to keep my mind strictly on what I was about and to care for naught but him. I did so with all my soul. It was only just: I surely owed him my thanks. I went so merrily to work, and I observed all his instructions so faithfully that the monster, vanquished by such rapid vibrations, finally spewed forth all its rage and covered me with its venom. Thereupon Etienne seemed to go out of his mind, borne aloft in the most voluptuous delirium; ardently he kissed my mouth, he fondled and frigged my cunt, and the wildness in his speech still more emphatically declared his disorder. Gross expressions, mingling with others of the most endearing sort, characterized this transport, which lasted quite a while, and whence at last the gallant Etienne, so unlike his piss-swallowing colleague, emerged to tell me that I was charming, that he greatly hoped I would come back to see him, and that he would treat me every time as he was going to now: pressing a silver coin into my hand, he conducted me back to the place he had brought me from and left me wonderstruck, thrilled and enchanted with this latest good fortune. Feeling much better about the monastery, I decided to return to it often in the future, persuaded that the more I advanced in age, the more agreeable adventures I would meet with there. But destiny called me elsewhere; more important events awaited me in a new world, and upon returning to my house I learned news which was soon to sober the elation produced in me by the happy outcome of my latest experience.


Ah yes, back when everything ran on coal, there was not massive air pollution. You are talking out of your ass. The Victorian times was well known for it's air and water pollution in urban areas.
Yawn, who's talking about the Victorian times?

Everything went down hill since the Industrial Revolution to be bloody honest.

BTW, I dare you to read 120 Days of Sodom in full. It makes this entire forum look like an episode of Spongebob in comparison, and it was written in the 1700s.
 
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On his deathbed, he made the Bishop privy to his intentions and entrusted him with these two immense endowments: he divided the sum, put them in two purses, and gave them to the Bishop, confiding the two orphans' education to this man of God and enlisting him to pass on to each what was to be his when they attained their majority. At the same time he enjoyed the prelate to invest his wards' funds, so that in the meantime they would double in size. He also affirmed that it was his design to leave his offsprings' mother in eternal ignorance of what he was doing for them, and he absolutely insisted that none of this should ever be mentioned to her.

These arrangements concluded, the dying man closed his eyes, and Monseigneur found himself master of about a million in banknotes, and of two children. The scoundrel was not long deliberating his next step: the dying man had spoken to no one but him, the mother was to know nothing, the children were only four or five years old. He circulated the intelligence that his friend, upon expiring, had left his fortune to the poor; the rascal acquired it the same day. But to ruin those wretched children did not suffice; furnished with authority by their father, the Bishop -- who never committed one crime without instantly conceiving another -- had the children removed from the remote pension in which they were being brought up, and placed them under the roof of certain people in his hire, from the outset having resolved soon to make them serve his perfidious lust.

He waited until they were thirteen; the little boy was the first to arrive at that age: the Bishop put him to use, bent him to all his debauches, and as he was extremely pretty, sported with him for a week. But the little girl fared less well: she reached the prescribed age, but was very ugly, a fact which had no mitigating effect upon the good Bishop's lubricious fury. His desires appeased, he feared lest these children, left alive, would someday discover something of the secret of their interests. Therefore, he conducted them to an estate belonging to his brother and, sure of recapturing, by means of a new crime, the sparks of lechery enjoyment had just caused him to lose, he immolated both of them to his ferocious passions, and accompanied their death with episodes so piquant and so cruel that his voluptuousness was reborn in the midst of the torments wherewith he beset them. The thing is, unhappily, only too well known: there is no libertine at least a little steeped in vice who is not aware of the great sway murder exerts over the senses, and how voluptuously it determines a discharge. And that is a general truth whereof it were well the reader be early advised before undertaking the perusal of a work which will surely attempt an ample development of this system.

Henceforth at ease in the face of whatever might transpire, Monseigneur returned to Paris to enjoy the fruit of his misdeeds, and without the least qualms about having counteracted the intentions of a man who, in his present situation, was in no state to derive either pain or pleasure therefrom.
"There, you see, that way, my little one, while one hand is busy there, let one finger of your other hand gradually work its way into this delicious crack...."

He adjusted my hands.

"That's the way, yes... Well! Don't you feel anything?" he asked, keeping me to my task.

"No, Father, I truly don't," I answered most naively.

"Ah, that's because you are still too young, but two years from now you'll see the pleasures it gives."

"Wait," I interrupted, "I think something's happening."

And with all imaginable vigor I rubbed the places he had pointed out.... Yes, sure enough, a few faint titillations convinced me that what I'd begun was worth continuing, and the extensive use I have made ever since of this relief-providing exercise has more than once persuaded me of my master's competence.

"And now 'tis my turn," said Etienne, "for your pleasures arouse my desires, and I simply must share them, my angel. Here we are; take this," he said, inviting me to grip a tool so monstrous my two little hands were scarce able to close around it, "take this, my child, 'tis called a prick, and this movement here," he went on, guiding my wrists in rapid jerks, "this action is called frigging. Thus, by means of this action you frig my prick. Go to it, my child, put all your strength to it. The more rapid and persistent your movements, the more you will hasten a moment which, believe me, I cherish. But bear one essential thing in mind," he added, all the while directing my flying hands, "be careful at all times to keep the tip uncovered. Never allow this skin, we call it the prepuce, to cover it over; were this prepuce to happen to cover this part, which we call the glans, all my pleasure would vanish. That's it; we're shortly going to see something, my little one," my teacher continued, "watch me do on you what you did on me."

And pressing himself against my chest as he spoke and as I kept in motion, he placed his hands so adroitly, he wriggled his fingers with such high art that pleasure rose at last to grip me, and it is without a shadow of a doubt to him I owe my initiation. And then, my head reeling, I abandoned my task, and the reverend, not yet ready to complete it, consented to forget his pleasure for a moment in order to devote himself exclusively to cultivating mine; and when he had caused me to taste it all, he had me resume the work my ecstasy had obliged me to interrupt, and very expressly enjoined me to keep my mind strictly on what I was about and to care for naught but him. I did so with all my soul. It was only just: I surely owed him my thanks. I went so merrily to work, and I observed all his instructions so faithfully that the monster, vanquished by such rapid vibrations, finally spewed forth all its rage and covered me with its venom. Thereupon Etienne seemed to go out of his mind, borne aloft in the most voluptuous delirium; ardently he kissed my mouth, he fondled and frigged my cunt, and the wildness in his speech still more emphatically declared his disorder. Gross expressions, mingling with others of the most endearing sort, characterized this transport, which lasted quite a while, and whence at last the gallant Etienne, so unlike his piss-swallowing colleague, emerged to tell me that I was charming, that he greatly hoped I would come back to see him, and that he would treat me every time as he was going to now: pressing a silver coin into my hand, he conducted me back to the place he had brought me from and left me wonderstruck, thrilled and enchanted with this latest good fortune. Feeling much better about the monastery, I decided to return to it often in the future, persuaded that the more I advanced in age, the more agreeable adventures I would meet with there. But destiny called me elsewhere; more important events awaited me in a new world, and upon returning to my house I learned news which was soon to sober the elation produced in me by the happy outcome of my latest experience.
how is this relevant to this thread?
 
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