It’s no stretch to say that I’m addicted to Resident Evil. Beyond the fact that I’ve dedicated an entire week of the website to the franchise, I’ve spent other months exhaustively theorising on everything from its greatest villains, to its potential future, to a $300 piece of merchandise, the funds of which really should have gone towards rent or groceries.

At the heart of that obsession stands one warrior, proud and true; an emblem of everything this series means to me, and one of my biggest character obsessions of all time. Her name, of course, is Jill Valentine. The master of unlocking, the steady handed bomb disposal expert of S.T.A.R.S., and occasional sandwich, should the situation call for it.

It probably shouldn’t come as any surprise that Jill is my favourite Resident Evil character, insomuch she was also my very first Resident Evil character. Tasked with the option of beginning the seminal 2002 remake with either herself or Chris Redfield, I elected to commence with Jill’s route. The reason was as straightforward as the fact that I was streaming at the time, and accordingly donned a beret that evoked her aesthetic.

Regardless, she was my first protagonist in the world of survival horror, and we’ve been inexorably linked ever since — well, she’s been linked to me more than the other way around; it’s not like other people instantly bring up my name whenever Jill Valentine is discussed.

Typically, this is how things go in my gaming routine, where primacy bias blinds me to any other contenders to the throne. My first Pokemon was Bulbasaur, my favourite Pokemon is Bulbasaur. My first Mario Kart racer was Koopa Troopa, my favourite Mario Kart racer is Koopa Troopa. My first Fire Emblem avatar unit was Robin, my favourite Fire Emblem avatar unit… you get the idea.

I do wonder whether I would have held the same affinity for her eventual boulder punching partner, Chris Redfield, had I chosen him instead. In actuality, with his limited inventory space and inability to automatically unlock certain doors, his route is considered the more difficult of the two. I already struggled enough as it was, I shudder to think how I would have fared had I been forced to grapple with his limitations as well.

But more than that, the original Chris Redfield characterisation was incredibly bland. This wasn’t the stony-faced, dead-inside-but-buff-outside, mountain of manhood and sorrow that we know and love today, but a quiet, indiscernible good guy trope. At least Jill looks unique, where Chris had very little in the way of defining traits.

Hell, if you told me his in-game model was the blank, standard version of an unexplored character creation system, I might even believe you. He’s just that gosh darn basic.

The catastrophiser in me ponders an alternate reality where these struggles led to my series playthrough ending at the completion of RE1, never to delve any further. No sagacious Leon Kennedy. No groovy Jack Baker. No punkass dickweed Jake Muller, a loss which I would have been entirely OK with. Maybe Jill Valentine was the catalyst that would lead to a larger Resident Evil addiction?

Whatever the cause, it’s triggered something of a blind spot in my fandom. Specifically, I find anything Jill does to be entirely without fault, even when it comes to her rather inconsistent characterisation. Sometimes she’s quiet and confident, other times she’s brash and flashy. I understand that people change, but these particular examples are both contained within the lore pertaining to the year 1998.

Arguably, she is the protagonist most guilty of this, a direct consequence of her tendency to disappear for long stretches of time. Our expectation of a heroine shifts as gaming evolves, and unfortunately for Jill, she hasn’t entirely escaped that blank template of RE1 in the same way Chris did.

Whereas he was dragged through the mud across Resident Evil 5, 6, 7, and 8, forced to suffer setback after setback, Jill is still just the supercop from Resident Evil 3. The only narrative nugget she’s gotten to hold onto, for better or worse, was the trauma of her brainwashing from RE5 (still her latest in-game appearance to this date, as far as the timeline goes). This was presented as a major aspect of her character in the beginning of Death Island, but it never really influenced her actions in any tangible way.

For whatever reason, Jill isn’t allowed to be brought down off her pedestal for a sustained period of time. Remember how the RE3 remake opened with her living in obsessive squalor, haunted by the memories of Spencer Mansion? Once Nemesis busted down her front door, that went right out the window, didn’t it?

If and when she returns to the fold — something that only seems like a matter of time, considering her central role in Death Island — I would imagine that she’ll still be much the same. Devoid of solid characterisation, and yet forbidden to progress beyond this lacking vision; denied even of the right to age. She might swear a lot, too, depending on who she’s working across from.

Could it be, perhaps, that our stubborn adoration for this fictional person has backed us into a corner? Unable to grow consistently, Jill is now time-locked to remain a generic girlboss for as long as the franchise keeps her onboard. An icon not for her words, but for her actions, ultimately putting her personality as a bottom priority.

But I digress. I don’t even know why I went on that particular tangent, and upon further review I’ll perhaps realise the oxymoronic nature of my own demands; seeking consistency from a character while also expecting wholesale changes. It’s fickle, but I can at least recognise that fact.

Whatever the result, and whether Jill Valentine ever finds the direction that her legend deserves, I know that I will openly, avidly, and unabashedly celebrate whenever she resurfaces in the Resident Evil timeline. Or any other timeline, to be honest — you should have seen how excited I was for the Marvel vs. Capcom Fighting Collection announcement…