Heavy iron breastplates? Classic armor that screamed "I’ll eat you alive and still feel warm." Now the cinematic suits? A neon‑glitched halo that turns every villain into a vending machine. If your ancestors were flexing a 2‑ton chest plate, Hollywood’s making a 5‑gallon battery that glows in the dark. Evolution is less “improved protection” and more “more pixels, less realism.” Your lineage’s armor? Real, brutal, a badge of survival. The blockbuster gear? A marketing stunt that doubles as a hover‑board. One’s about staying alive, the other about looking like you’re ready for the next blockbuster trailer. In short, ancient iron: respect the craft, modern suits: respect the audience.