Before the title concerns anyone too much, no, I do not condone senseless violence or unhinged acts of “evil.” Violence causes destruction; destruction yields consequences. But the same could be said of acts of heroism, which is why I question whether the line between good and evil is as definitive as many stories want us to believe. It’s why I feel so strongly that when people say they want more morally grey characters, what they really mean is that they want more human, more relatable characters.
Easier said than done, despite heroes and villains being such polarized archetypes. Still, I hope that someone out there finds a use for all this rambling. And as always, my first tip is to write in the ways that work for you. Much in the way that people are never fully good or evil, creativity is never right or wrong.
With all that being said, here are my top five tips on creating realistic characters:
Victimize your villains. Incentivize your heroes. Every bloodthirsty, doom-and-gloom villain was once a child—innocent, impressionable, and unmarred by the horrors of the world. Something happened to break their trust in authority—the very people they were told would always be there to protect them, to deliver justice. Show the devastation in that moment, the realization that no one is coming to save them, that the only way for them to achieve what they want is to take it by whatever means necessary.
In the same vein, the heroes believed that if they stuck to the high road, they could defeat the “big bad” while keeping their hands clean. Every loss is one step closer to victory, until it isn’t. Take away something that is so vital to their goodness—be it a person, a home, a belief—and let that grief darken their hearts. It’s not enough just to shoot low this time. Give them a reason to want to shoot low, and to revel in the destruction that may follow.
Take personality tests. This method is probably my favorite of all I’ve employed. It’s straightforward and simple: take multiple personality tests for your different characters. I used the Enneagram test to help flesh out the characters of the Stormbringer Saga, but the MBTI (Myers-Briggs) is slightly more well-known. The best part? Both tests are free to take, and information on all the personality types is in vast abundance, thanks to the wonders of the Internet. The cool thing about the results from both tests is that you’ll find summaries of each type’s basic fears and desires, as well as how they interact with the world around them.
I found this method to be the most helpful in understanding my characters beyond the context of their arcs. Reading up on the different types helped mold them into real people—at least, as real as they can be, considering they only exist in my head. And if you’re anything like me, you may even find yourself crafting specific scenes to highlight unique traits for your characters.
Rewrite scenes from a different perspective. This one may also seem like a no-brainer, but it can be time-consuming—and therefore, overlooked. I’m a bit of a masochist when it comes to writing the sadder scenes, so this is just a natural part of the process for me. If a casual, thoughtless comment from Character A plants a seed of hate or anger in Character B, I want to know about it. If the hero’s victory is the villain’s greatest fear come true, even better.
As the author, it’s my job to know all sides of the story and to reveal the details in due time. Rooting for one character or another is up to the reader.
Shatter the plot armor. If you’ve never heard the term, “plot armor” basically refers to the assumed immunity (from physical, emotional, and/or mental harm) granted to the main cast. Note: this is not exclusive to heroes or villains. Any character of importance has some degree of plot armor, which inherently enables them to achieve impossible things. But no miracle comes without a cost, and unless your characters are meant to be some super-human being that enjoys the perks of invulnerability, the threat of death needs to feel real.
How do you accomplish this? Eliminate their greatest defenses, the people who were bulwarks against their most pressing threats. Heighten their fear, tighten their inner circle. Remember that anything that bleeds can be killed. Your main characters and their allies are no exception.
Love is everything, until it’s not. If you’ll allow me to get philosophical for a moment, I believe that love is a universal motivator for all great acts. “Great” here refers to the magnitude, not the morality. Whether a love of power, a love for people, or something entirely different, humans are driven to protect and preserve what they love most. Take that all away, and you’re left with an unpredictable shell of a person, someone who listens to no one, not even their own conscience—because why would they, when everything they once cared for is gone?
This is where we stumble upon madness. It’s a tenuous subject matter, one that’s difficult to portray in a sensitive yet honest manner. But when it’s done well, the audience is confronted with the reality that every character—even the most level-headed, unbreakable of the cast—is just a few losses away from descending into madness. Don’t be afraid to deal a few blows that crack their resolve. If they patch themselves up, then you’ve probably got a hero-type on your hands. If they shatter under the pressure, rebuild them into something new—something their past selves wouldn’t recognize.
The bottom line is, your characters are only as relatable as you make them. The more time you spend with them, the greater you can understand their perspectives, their motives, their goals. And the more you understand, the easier it will become to write them into your stories. They won’t feel like chess pieces you’re shifting around on some metaphorical playing board. Instead, you’ll see them come alive on the page and act in ways you didn’t anticipate, and you might even find yourself rooting for someone you thought you despised.
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