At a weekend anime convention, a girl wearing a homemade Pikachu costume happily took photos with passersby. Someone nearby whispered, “Is this even cosplay? She didn’t even wear a wig.” Not far away, a “knight” in full armor walked by, immediately drawing admiring glances. This scene is all too familiar at any convention. In the cosplay community, there is indeed an invisible line—some see cosplay as art, others as a social tool, and some just do it for fun. The question is: are “wonderful people” guilty? The answer is simple: no. But why does everyone have a scale in their hearts? Behind this scale lies a struggle between community culture, personal investment, and social identity.
What are “wonderful people”? Where does this term come from?
“Wonderful people” originally came from the internet meme “Your cosplay is so wonderful,” which sarcastically referred to cosplayers with low-quality, inaccurate costumes. It later evolved into a catch-all term for anyone who “just throws on any clothes and calls it cosplay.” For example, wearing a regular T-shirt with cat ears, or draping a bedsheet to pretend to be a magical girl. Such cosplayers are often seen by veteran players as “lowering the bar.” But think about it: cosplay originally means “costume play,” with no rules on how much money or time to spend. A child making a Gundam helmet from a cardboard box and a professional cosplayer spending three months customizing armor are both expressing love for a character. The expression is just different, and the cost invested is different.
The key word here is engagement. Engagement determines the quality of a cosplay and how the community evaluates you. But engagement is not a crime; it’s just one measure. The real contempt chain often targets not “wonderful people” themselves, but those who “disrespect the character.” For example, someone who could spend ten minutes checking the character’s design but deliberately wears the wrong outfit, or someone who could wear a wig but shows up with messy hair. It’s this attitude that is truly despised.
Root of the contempt chain: It’s not just about money
Many think the contempt chain is about “the rich looking down on the poor.” But reality is more complex. A cosplayer who spends three months hand-sewing a costume is often more respected than one who spends 20,000 yuan on a full set of gear. Because handwork represents time and dedication, while money only buys the finished product, not an understanding of the character’s details. For example, in *Demon Slayer*, Tanjiro’s forehead scar position, earring style, and sword color—if these details are wrong, even if the outfit is expensive, it will be criticized. This is not nitpicking; it’s respect for the original work.
Another overlooked factor is social capital. In the cosplay community, high-quality cosplay brings more attention, collaboration opportunities, and even monetization. “Wonderful people” often only receive comments like “cute” or “funny,” making it hard to enter the core social circle. This isn’t discrimination; it’s a natural outcome of resource allocation. Like in games, high-level players prefer to team up for raids rather than carry newbies. But the problem is that this “natural outcome” becomes a source of superiority for some, fostering exclusionary attitudes.
Why are “wonderful people” criticized? Three real cases
Case 1: At a convention, a girl wore a JK uniform (Japanese high school girl uniform) and claimed to cosplay Mitsuha Miyamizu from *Your Name.* But Mitsuha’s uniform is a specific Western-style uniform, while the girl wore a sailor uniform. When pointed out, she retorted, “It’s close enough.” This attitude angered other cosplayers, as “close enough” disrespects the character and original work. Case 2: A boy wore a cheap, low-quality Kamen Rider suit from Taobao, striking extravagant poses on stage until the suit split open, revealing his casual clothes. Onlookers laughed, but he felt “as long as everyone’s happy.” This “entertainment-first” mentality clashed with players who value accuracy. Case 3: A well-known cosplayer complained online about too many “wonderful people” and was accused of looking down on newcomers. She then shared her own cringey cosplay from ten years ago—equally rough and inaccurate. She said, “I was a wonderful person too, but I was willing to learn. The problem is some people stay in that ‘wonderful’ phase forever and refuse to improve.” These cases show that the criticism isn’t about being a “wonderful person” per se, but about the refusal to learn, respect, and improve.
How to break the contempt chain? Practical advice for all cosplayers
If you’re a beginner, don’t be afraid of criticism. Being criticized is the start of growth. First, choose a character you truly love, not one that’s “easy to cos.” Love drives you to study details. Second, spend ten minutes looking up reference images. Remember: color, accessories, hairstyle, and props—aim to get at least three of these four right. If you can’t, admit you’re “working on accuracy” rather than saying “close enough.” Third, use online resources. Bilibili and TikTok have many low-budget cosplay tutorials using cardboard, old clothes, and makeup to create decent effects. For example, using a delivery box for armor or an old sweater for a wig. The key is heart, not money.
If you’re a veteran, try to set aside your superiority. Looking down on newcomers won’t make you nobler; it will only shrink the community. You can do three things: First, when encountering a “wonderful person,” offer suggestions instead of mockery. For example, “Your outfit color is right, but you could trim the wig’s bangs.” Second, actively share your experience. Host a mini-workshop at a convention or write a tutorial. Third, remember that you too started as a “wonderful person” once. No one is born a cosplayer, including you.
The community needs inclusiveness, but inclusiveness doesn’t mean no boundaries
Accepting “wonderful people” doesn’t mean tolerating “character destruction.” For example, someone making obscene gestures while in cosplay, or deliberately wearing the wrong costume for attention. Such actions harm the community’s image. The right approach is to encourage those with serious attitudes but limited skills, and distance from those who are perfunctory and refuse to improve. This isn’t discrimination; it’s protection of the culture itself. Cosplay is “acting,” not “performing.” Acting requires understanding the character; performing just seeks attention. Understanding this difference clarifies where the contempt chain’s boundaries lie.
Summary and advice
“Wonderful people” are not guilty, but if their mindset remains “This is good enough,” it does hinder personal growth. The contempt chain in the cosplay community essentially reflects differences in engagement, respect, and willingness to learn. Instead of obsessing over “guilt,” think about “what kind of cosplayer do I want to be?” If you’re just in it for fun, be a cheerful “wonderful person” and don’t care about others’ opinions. If you aspire to improve, learn humbly and treat every critique as an upgrade opportunity. For the community as a whole, the ideal state is: veterans are willing to teach, newcomers are willing to learn, everyone enjoys their own path, but mutual understanding when issues arise. After all, we are cosplaying characters, not superiority.
发表回复