Stellar Bladeファンは、意図的にUgliging EveのNaughty Dogのキャラクターデザイナーを非難しました
Naughty Dogのコンセプトデザイナーは、XのStellar BladeのEVAのアートワークを共有し、すぐにファンの反応を引き起こしました。多くの人は、描写を魅力的で男性的であり、男性的であると批判し、デザインをugいで反発的であると説明しているコメントで。デザイナーがエヴァを「目覚めた」ように見せたと非難し、彼女の美学の意図的な変化を示唆した。
この事件は、ノーティ犬が銀河間で明示的なDEIコンテンツを使用したという最近の批判に続いています：The Heretic Prophetは、ほとんどの嫌いな人の記録をトレーラーが保持しているSFアドベンチャーです。これは、ゲームの成功の重要な要素であるStellar BladeのオリジナルのEVAデザインの肯定的な受信とは対照的です。彼女の美しさを普遍的に称賛された元のエヴァは、プレイヤーにとって重要な引き分けでした。対照的に、新しいデザインは、ゲームコミュニティによって圧倒的に拒否されました。
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Two Embers – Part 1
By [Your Name]
The wind howled across the shattered plains of Eldryth, carrying with it the scent of ash and forgotten prayers. Once, this land had bloomed beneath twin suns—golden and silver—cradled in the arms of the sky. Now, only two embers remained: one buried deep in the heart of the Obsidian Spire, the other flickering faintly in the chest of a girl who did not know her name.
She awoke beneath a sky split in two.
One half burned crimson, the other wept silver mist. The earth cracked like old parchment, and from the fissures rose whispers—voices not of men, nor beasts, but of memory itself. Her fingers curled around a shard of obsidian, warm to the touch, humming with a rhythm that matched her pulse.
She didn’t remember how she got here. She remembered nothing—not her mother’s lullaby, not the sound of her first breath, not even the shape of her face in the still pools of long-dead lakes.
Only the ember.
And the dream.
“When the twins fall, the world will wake,” the dream whispered. “But not as it was. Not as it should be.”
She sat up. The shard pulsed. Her reflection shimmered within it—not a face, but a storm: a woman with hair like flame and eyes like dying stars.
“You’re not real,” she said, voice cracked from disuse.
But the reflection smiled.
And spoke.
“I am you. I am what was lost. I am what was never meant to be found.”
She stumbled to her feet, wind tearing at her tattered cloak—the color of dust and midnight. Around her, ruins of a cathedral rose from the earth, its spires fused with bone and blackened iron. The name carved into its fallen arch read: Aetherion.
Her hand trembled as she touched the stone. A vision tore through her:
A war not of swords, but of light.
Two beings—twin stars forged in fire—clashing in the sky. One wore the face of a god, the other… a child.
She gasped.
And the ember screamed.
From the east, a sound like a thousand bells made of glass. A procession of shadows moved across the horizon—hooded figures with eyes of ash, marching in silence. Their chants were not in any tongue, but in absence. In silence.
She turned to flee—then stopped.
Because behind her, in the west, a new light rose.
Not silver. Not gold.
Blue.
And from it stepped a man—tall, scarred, wearing armor of woven wind and memory. In his hand, a sword without a blade. Its hilt bore the same mark as the shard in her palm.
“Eira,” he said, voice like wind over graves. “You’ve come at last.”
She stepped back. “Who are you?”
He looked at her, and for the first time, his face cracked—just slightly.
“I was your father,” he said. “And I thought I’d buried you with the world.”
The ground trembled. The sky split again.
And from the ember in her hand, a voice rose—not hers, not his.
“The first ember dies. The second awakens. The war begins.”
To Be Continued in Part 2: "The Blood of the Twin Suns"
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