What's a 'dandy,' you may ask? Why, it's nothing more than a gentleman who appreciates the finer things in life: eloquent language, snazzy clothing, and a certain degree of vanity. Dandies strive to maintain a prim-and-proper demeanor, entertaining others with their witty speech, charming mannerisms, and debonair attire. You could say they're effeminate, but all it takes to be a dandy is a devotion to style above all else.

For whatever reason, the dandy archetype pairs wonderfully with a life of villainy. It must be something about the disconnect between a dandy's cavalier attitude and a slew of abominable deeds, making the bad guy seem likeable and reprehensible at the same time. Pagan Min from is probably the most famous evil dandy at the moment - but he wasn't the first, or the dandiest. Straighten your bowtie, dust off your top hat, and sharpen your bloodied butterfly knife as we take a look at gaming's most memorable, despicable dandies.

SPOILERS AHOY for the following games:
Bayonetta
The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword

Deep-pocketed fat cats, take note: this is what 'the one-percent' should/will look like in 2035. Graham might as well be a male model, with his three-piece suit, silk scarf, and eyebrows that have seen more tweeze than Elmer Fudd in a dense forest. At first, he seems like an amiable fellow, treating our hero Soma Cruz with cordial respect. But Graham's tune changes real fast when he realizes that Soma might be a threat to his true intentions: becoming the reincarnation of Dracula.

Graham is actually a 'Dark Lord Candidate' - someone who was born at the exact moment that Dracula was previously killed. His belief is that, by rights, all demons should serve under his command, and he slowly loses his sanity to delusions of grandeur as Aria's story runs its course. But maybe we shouldn't blame Graham for his villainy - a lifetime of kids saying that your last name should be 'Cracker' is enough to drive anyone over the edge.

Just listen to that and tell me Razer isn't a high point of the Jak and Daxter sequels. Not to be confused with the PC hardware brand or the long-forgotten Motorola flip phone, Razer simply oozes snobbiness, from his splendiferous coat to his pristinely trimmed goatee to the cigar ashes he's always tapping hither and thither.

It's hard to imagine that a man so dapper would get his jollies by decimating competitors in futuristic death races, but that's just how Razer rolls. And even for all the taunts, thinly veiled threats, and plumes of smoke that Razer sends Jak's way, Daxter still can't help but appreciate his "certain odd, sexy style". You know a villain's got panache when even the heroes can't help but adore him. Jak puts up a gruff front, but you just know that deep down, he's intrigued by his long-eared frenemy. I better stop before this launches into full-on slash fiction.

Now there's a beautiful man. Wait, please wait officer - I wasn't aware that Ash is only 16 when I said that! If you filled a pixelated blender with the the pyrokinetic powers of KOF poster boy Kyo Kusanagi and the leather-obsessed fashion sense of Iori Yagami, Ash Crimson would be the result. But unlike his masculine predecessors - Kyo with his everyman appeal, Iori looking like a guitarist in a goth metal band - Ash is a lithe, effeminate fighter with a hairstyle that seems better suited for a 1960s go-go dancer. And if you don't stop staring at his extravagantly painted nails, he'll punch in your guts with fists of green flame.

When you meet the sardonic, uncaring gaze of Ash's blue eyes, you know that this guy must be a straight-up sociopath. That assumption is reinforced by the fact that Ash treats enemies and allies like pieces on a chessboard, displaying almost zero emotion in his quest to rob KOF's leading super-humans of their powers. Maybe he's not technically the most evil guy in town, but Ash's motives are so ambiguous for the majority of his convoluted plotline that he might as well be the villain.

Attempting to understand the entire plot of Bayonetta is like learning a new language: there are tons of unfamiliar words you need to memorize, and you're going to be confused as hell for at least a month. So instead of getting into Father Balder's time-traveling escapades and 500-plus years of existence, let's just focus on the dandy-osity of his extravagant ensemble. The flaxen half-mask/monocle combo; the ornate white-and-gold robes; the actual peacock carcass draped over his shoulders complete with full plumage. If a villain was any sharper dressed, they'd have to be wearing a tuxedo made out of knives.

It's clear where Bayonetta gets her sense of outrageously sleek style - let's just say that they don't call him 'Father' Balder because he's a priest. But even when he's threatening to eradicate his own flesh and blood, Balder's elegant rhetoric makes his attempted filicide seem A-ok. He's the classic combination of dashing and dastardly, much like David Bowie in Labyrinth (though by comparison, Balder's crotch-bulge game still needs work).

One look at De Singe's made-up, ghostly pale face, and Aerosmith's 'Dude (Looks Like a Lady)' will instantly get stuck in your head. Then you hear his voice, which sounds like a French person doing an impression of an American person doing an impression of a French person. De Singe constantly peppers his lispy speech with words au francais, completing the illusion that he could never be a threat, even to a pirate as gullible as Guybrush Threepwood.

But that couldn't be further from the truth - which you might've already guessed, given that this villain's name is a play on Marquis De Sade, the aristocrat whose last name is the actual root of the word 'sadism'. When De Singe isn't conducting experiments on helpless animals, he's trying to amputate Guybrush's pox-ridden hand in a misguided bid for eternal life. To make things even more 'mad scientist', De Singe is controlling the winds around Flotsam Island so he can strand pirates there to serve as his not-actual-guinea-pigs-for-once guinea pigs. But with that foppish attitude, powdered wig, and aristocratic garb of his, you'd never guess that De Singe is probably more vile a villain than the infamous Captain LeChuck.

From reading his rap sheet, you'd assume that young royal Alfred Ashford is an absolute monster. Not because he's a test-tube baby - Alfred and his sister Alexia had no say in the genetic experiments that created them. It's more the way he conspired with his twin sis to infect their father/creator with the t-Veronica virus before imprisoning him in the basement. If that wasn't sadistic enough for you, there's also Alfred's love for administering torture in his private prison camp. He also enjoys taking potshots at people with his sniper rifle when they're not looking, which is so uncool.

But when you actually meet Alfred for the first time, he seems like such a sweet (albeit a little demented) guy. It's a one-two punch of dandy charm, what with Alfred's well-groomed appearance in his regal-looking military uniform, and the ludicrously high pitch of his voice as he eloquently accosts our heroes, Claire and Steve. Allow me to take a shotgun approach to some pop culture comparisons: Alfred Ashford has the . If you got all that, guess what: we just became best friends.

Yes, it's true: you can be intimidated by a skinny, pale elf rocking an emo haircut, gigantic jewel earrings, purple eyeliner, and a skintight, patterned leotard. Ghirahim's degree of self-assured fabulousness rivals even Beyonce, and I dare say he's the most sexually charged character Link's ever had the pleasure of meeting, given how often he speaks in moans and . Ghirahim is what every dandy aspires to be: a cross between the authority and poshness of an aristocrat and the flamboyant charisma of a hair metal band's lead singer.

But this is a list of the most menacing dandies - and Ghirahim's got evil intent out the wazoo. Whenever this pretty boy loses his cool, you get a glimpse of his true self: a psychotic sword-wielding murderer who's more than happy to dole out slow, painful death in his quest to abduct Princess Zelda. At least, that's what I gathered from quotes like "I need to vent all this unhealthy anger, and your agony is a great stress reliever!" or "I'll do more than just beat you senseless. I'll make the affair so excruciating you'll deafen yourself with the shrill sound of your own screams". Damn.

Long live the villainous dandy - without them, we'd have to endure a never-ending stream of big, uncouth brutes as our antagonists. Are there any other evil-doer dandies - like the young Revolver Ocelot or Kingdom Hearts' Marluxia, both pictured above - that you think could've made the cut? Tell me all about it in the comments below - but please, do be courteous about it, lest our genteel discourse be reduced to plebeian drivel.

And if you're looking for more, check out .

If Hallmark Christmas movies are always hammering one point home (aside from the fact that cute female elves on sabbatical will always run into a disaffected but good-at-heart businessman to fall in love with), it's that the spirit of Christmas is bigger and more important than any concrete, surface trappings.

And so it is with games. While some have Christmas settings - or the odd Christmas level, at least - the longer term nature of playing a game means that compared to films, they don't lend themselves as well to overt seasonality. But there is a solution. Evoke the feeling of Christmas without specifically being a Christmas game. You might not notice at first, but it happens in plenty of them. Loads of them, in fact. So I've collected together eight of the best, furtively festive offerings for your perusing pleasure. Forget those quickly-made, cash-in iOS efforts. Fire one of these up over the holidays, and you'll be ho-ho-hoing with the best of them*.

*The best of them being of course Santa. He is the best of all of us.

Is really Christmassy because: While not actually set during The Season (a point later emphasised when prequel/slightly inbred cousin Arkham Origins specifically set its procession of crime-fighting glitches on Christmas Eve), Arkham City feels exceptionally festive, despite all the grim-dark misery at play. I think it basically comes down to the fact that between the snow and the more colourful, Burton-esque bits of production design in the city-prison's centre, the whole thing frequently feels like Batman Returns. ie. The third-best Christmas film ever made, after Scrooged and Die Hard, and slightly above Gremlins.

In fact it's rather telling that Warner Montreal's more explicitly Christmassy prequel actually feels less so, despite all the baubles and tinsel on show. It could be a case of diminishing returns through repetition. That would be a shame. After all, the wintery themes in Origins were an important and committed design choice. Not just an excuse to reuse as many of City's assets as possible for a quick turnaround. Definitely not that. They were important.

Is really Christmassy because: Cool, Cool Mountain. The slightly alpine look of the whole level; all cosy, wooden huts, icicles, ski-lifts and mountain bridges, amplified to a delirious level of wholesome, festive joy by the jaunty, European vibe of the giddy accordion soundtrack. Also, coin collection noise = subliminal sleigh bells. Fact. That’s some smart dovetailing of aesthetics right there.

Though that shouldn’t be a surprise. This is a Nintendo game, after all, and Nintendo is effectively the video game Disney. As such, winter stuff is automatically elevated to full-blown Christmas joy, and Christmas itself must be treated with all the benevolent magic of a friendly wizard with an infinite hospitality budget. This vibe, unsurprisingly, continues through pretty much all Mario snow levels from SM64 onwards.

Is really Christmassy because: The whole Snowpeak section of Twilight Princess is a 150% perfect, condensed evocation of a Christmassy day out in the snow. First of all there's the giddy fun of the snowboard ride down the mountain. That's your childhood afternoon's sledging, that is. Then there's your entry to Snowpeak ruins, and the discovery that it's not a traditional, abstract Zelda dungeon, but a cosy, family home complete with the most wonderful recreation of an open fire that video games (and in fact science itself) could possibly ever produce. That's your 'coming home to a warm sofa and a big mug of cocoa' moment.

Then there's the way the contrast is repeated, as the ‘dungeon’s design demands that you frequently go out into the crisp, frosty grounds, before returning back inside. Nothing emphasises festive cosiness more than repeatedly going out into cold places and then back into warm places. And hey, you even get a present along the way. And what kid hasn't wanted a giant, wall-crushing flail for Christmas as some point? Lame kids. That's who.

Is really Christmassy because: Snow + festival atmosphere = Christmas, each and every time. Well, not every time. A freak blizzard around the main stage at a black metal fest wouldn't feel particularly Christmassy. Darkly epic, with all the terrible, Nordic majesty of a thousand '80s album covers, certainly. But not Christmassy.

But in SSX's case? When the festival vibe is that of a cool, fun community who seem to be permanently off work, hanging out and partying in an upbeat celebration of all things snow? With fireworks and neon standing in for fairy lights? Throw in a boys' choir/glockenspiel cover of N.E.R.D.'s Rock Star, and the picture is complete.

Is really Christmassy because: If it wasn't for the frequent imperial occupation and impending End of the World, Narshe would be the perfect, quiet Christmas getaway. It's small, it's unspoilt, it’s discrete, and good Lord is it a delightfully snug little place to hole up in. All those coal and log burners warming the place up, and filling the air with their soft billows of smoke and steam. The big, picturesque, eminently snowy mountains behind it, which frame the town beautifully, while also sheltering it from the worst of the northern storms.

And crucially, like all of Final Fantasy VI, Narshe is as steampunk as it gets. And as we all know, that puts it one step away from Victoriana, and therefor but two steps away from the most canonically Christmassy period in human history.

Is really Christmassy because: Call it the consumerist death-trance of the human soul if you like, but the pre-Christmas trawl around the shops can be an integral ritual in the run-up to the main event. Pick the right day, leave you misanthropy at home, and the all-pervading glow of red-and-gold cheer emanating from those shop windows can really kickstart the excitable, fun loving spirit. If only by firing up the instinct that had you standing in games shops, ogling the Super Mario World demo for hours on end for much of that December when you were a kid.

The original Condemned understands the importance of all that. That’s why, despite not being set at Christmas, the Bart’s Department Store level inhabits a Christmas time-warp, the long-dilapidated shop having gone under during the festive period many years before, and still filled with the trappings of the happiest time of year. And murderous crack-heads. And human mannequins. And casually discarded firearms. Merry Christmas, everyone!

Is really Christmassy because: The entire region of Skyrim is made of snow, fir trees, fires and roasting meat, and every third person you meet looks like young Santa. Also, Scandinavian accents. And there's that whole Christmas/skeletal dragon connection too.

What, you don't know that one? Seriously? You'll be telling me you've never heard of the Easter Unicycle Knight next. You big weirdo.

Is really Christmassy because: Just look at the state of Froenborg! Just look at it! The place is one big, inhabited Christmas cake, its buildings carved from the finest spiced sponge, its snow a veritable heaping of delicious, sweet icing. And that’s before you even .

Also note that although it’s technically ensconced within Russia, Level-5 gave Froenborg a distinctly cod-Scandinavian name regardless. That shows nothing but the studio’s tireless commitment to Christmassiness in the face oppressive, geographical logic. It matters to them, goddamn it. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere too, about how if Santa can be everywhere in one night, Christmas can as well. Or something. But probably definitely that.

I'm just going to jump straight to the request for comments here, because that desperate pun was all I could come up with for a headline, and I don't want to waste its meagre value by losing momentum.

And while you're here, have a look at some our other Christmas-themed features. Check out (those ones aren't Christmassy at all).