There are many ways to signal “sci-fi alien romance” on a cover. You could lean into starships, cosmic vistas, or mysterious silhouettes. Or, if you’re Claimed by Aliens, you could skip all that and just slap a scaled six-pack across the entire page and call it a day.
Yes, the centerpiece of this design is Alien Abs™ — glowing, green, and heavily Photoshopped. Forget mystery, menace, or allure. This is “what if a gym rat accidentally walked through a reptile exhibit.” Subtle alien anatomy? Not here. Just CrossFit: Extraterrestrial Edition.
Behind our lizard-bodied lover, space itself is having a meltdown. Neon blues, blinding whites, swirling planets, starbursts — the whole cosmic Photoshop brush pack was dumped onto the canvas. Instead of an intergalactic vibe, it feels like a laser tag arena threw up on a rave flyer.
And then there’s the typography, which is flexing almost as hard as those abs.
- CLAIMED BY ALIENS is in giant metallic block letters, yelling at you like the trailer for a 2008 Xbox game.
- The word ALIENS gets the futuristic “three-line E” treatment, because nothing screams “advanced species” like graphic design clichés from the early 2000s.
- And tucked underneath in small print, just in case you were confused: A Limited Edition Collection of Sci-Fi Alien Romances. Because of course this mess comes in bulk.
The palette is pure chaos — glowing neon greens smashed against electric blues and whites. Instead of romance, it radiates the visual energy of a Monster Energy Drink commercial.
The verdict? Claimed by Aliens promises cosmic seduction but delivers alien gym selfies layered over a rave in outer space. Not mysterious, not sexy, and definitely not future-proof — just abducted by every sci-fi romance cliché in the book.