When I first encountered Laura Mulvey’s idea of the male gaze, it struck me as a powerful lens for understanding how women are represented in visual culture. Mulvey argued that mainstream cinema often positions women as objects of desire, framed through the perspective of heterosexual men. As I began thinking about video games, I realized that this theory doesn’t just apply to film; it is deeply embedded in gaming too. But because games are interactive, the experience of gaze feels even more complicated. We don’t just watch characters; we inhabit them, control them, and sometimes even identify with them. That makes the tension between objectification and agency especially vivid.
Take Bayonetta, for example. On the surface, she is a strong, confident protagonist who dominates her enemies with style. Yet her design is undeniably sexualized: the camera lingers on her body, her costume vanishes during special attacks, her movements are choreographed to emphasize eroticism. I’ve often wondered whether this makes her empowering or objectifying. Some players see her as a symbol of female strength, while others feel she is reduced to a spectacle. For me, Bayonetta embodies a paradox: she is powerful, but her power is inseparable from the way she is sexualized. It’s a reminder that empowerment under the male gaze can be double-edged, offering agency but still reinforcing stereotypes.
Fantasy games provide another layer to this discussion. Characters like Princess Zelda, Yennefer from The Witcher, or Sylvanas from World of Warcraft illustrate how women are often framed as mystical, seductive, or secondary to male heroes, even though this has been changing. Zelda is frequently cast as the damsel in distress, her role existing to validate Link’s heroism. Yennefer’s sexuality is central to her characterization, often filtered through Geralt’s perspective. Sylvanas, though powerful, is portrayed with an aura of danger and seduction. When I think about these characters, I see how the male gaze persists across genres in media, embedding patriarchal narratives into fantasy worlds. They remind me that even when women are strong or magical, their representation often bends back toward male desire.
But then there are games that resist these framings. Life is Strange and The Last of Us Part II stand out to me as examples of what could be called the female gaze. In Life is Strange, the relationship between Max and Chloe is portrayed with emotional depth and vulnerability. The game doesn’t sexualize them; instead, it invites players to empathize with their struggles and choices. Similarly, The Last of Us Part II presents Ellie and Abby as complex protagonists. Their bodies are not framed for male desire, but their grief, resilience, and moral ambiguity take center stage. Playing these games feels different: it’s not about consuming female characters as spectacles, but about engaging with them as subjects of their own stories. To me, this is what the female gaze offers: a way of seeing that emphasizes intimacy, empathy, and complexity.
I also find it fascinating that gaze isn’t limited to women. Studies have shown that male avatars can be sexualized too, especially in fighting games like Tekken where muscular physiques are exaggerated. This makes me think about how the gaze is fluid; it can shift depending on context, identity, and who is creating the work. Diversity among designers plays a huge role here. When more women and minority voices contribute to game development, character design becomes richer and less bound by stereotypes. As someone who worked in 3D art, I feel this directly: the choices we make in modeling, texturing, and rendering aren’t neutral. They reflect cultural assumptions, and they can either reinforce or challenge the gaze.
Conclusion
Reflecting on all of this, I see video games as a medium uniquely positioned to challenge the male gaze. Because players participate, they can experience characters as subjects rather than objects, if the game allows that. The trajectory from hyper-sexualized avatars like Bayonetta to nuanced protagonists like Ellie shows that change is possible. Yet the persistence of objectification reminds me that the male gaze is deeply embedded in gaming culture. For me, the future of gaze in games depends on who creates them. As diverse voices enter the industry, the female gaze and other perspectives like the queer gaze or intersectional gaze will continue to reshape how we see and play.
References
Mulvey, L. (1975). Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema. Screen, 6-18.
Ahmadzada, L. (2022). Male Gaze, Empowerment and the Female Gamers: The Case of Bayonetta. Master’s Thesis, Erasmus University Rotterdam.
Jennings, S.C. (2018). Women Agents and Double-Agents: Theorizing Feminine Gaze in the Video Games. In Feminism in Play (pp. 235-249).
Krobova, T. (2015). I Wasn’t Looking at His Nice Ass: Female Gaze in Video Games. DiGRA Conference Proceedings.
Mwedzi, D. (2021). On Subversion: A Critical Assessment of the Male Gaze in Contemporary Film and Video Games. Liberated Arts: A Journal for Undergraduate Research, 8.
Lavrador, E. (2023). Video Games Against the Male Gaze. Journal of Science and Technology of the Arts, 15.
Bayonetta Gameplay : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfg4qMcGspU
