Re: Green Room 2 (OOC)
I’m not a very good role player. Maybe once I was, but that time has long passed and it’s only very recently that I’ve come to realize that and to understand why. Therefore, I can’t say anything particularly constructive. But I’ve a few points I’d like to offer as a perspective rather than a suggestion.
First of all, it’s important to realize that the characters you write for are largely defined by the medium itself. One of the cardinal rules of entertainment writing is: Don’t write cinematic characters for a television environment, and vice versa. I’ll illustrate:
One of the key differences between film and television is character development. What most stories in any medium typically share in common is the theme of identity. Who are you? In film, a main (or principle) character’s identity can and often undergo primary changes and identity development –indeed that is often the point. He starts as A and ends as B. He starts a cynic and a misanthrope, but he ends an optimist and philanthropist. Of course, this formula isn’t always the case but in general, film exposes the hero’s journey from (metaphorical) birth to death; he starts out green but ends older and wiser. Think Luke Skywalker (Star Wars), Roy Neary (CE3K), Michael Vronsky (The Deer Hunter), James T. Kirk (ST: Wrath of Khan), Captain Navarre & Isabeau d’Anjou (Ladyhawke), the entire cast of The Breakfast Club, almost the entire cast of 12 Angry Men, Frodo (The Lord of the Rings), Shylock (The Merchant of Venice), Helen Keller (The Miracle Worker), John Constantine (Constantine), Ethan Edwards (The Searchers), Eddie Jessup (Altered States), Comrade Ninotchka (Ninotchka), ad infinitum.
Of course there are exceptions, and plenty of them. Rooster Cogburn (True Grit), Travis Bickel (Taxi Driver), Ellie Arroway (Contact), the entire cast of The Big Chill are a few examples of characters who end up pretty much as they started, only softened a little, or modified in some way: though still crusty, Rooster’s intemperate heart is softened by Mattie Ross, though still a detached scientist, Ellie must add faith to her worldview after her experiences aboard the Vegan Displacement Device, and though still jaded and cynical, the Chillers who resent their loss of idealism over the years unavoidably end on an optimistic note of reconciliation and renewal.
And there are some cinematic heroes that never have any kind of character development. Lee Marvin in The Dirty Dozen comes to mind –he had a job to do and he did it, plain and simple. If anything, it’s many of his supporting cast who undergo the most change, and they owe it to Marvin’s Major Reisman. Only one juror from 12 Angry Men remains unchanged by his adventure in the deliberations room –the lead protagonist played by Henry Fonda, but it is his heroic “agnosticism” that ultimately sways eleven other hard-bitten “realists” into changing their vote from a pre-decided guilty to a well-considered not guilty, thereby sparing a young man the electric chair, not to mention opening windows into heir own souls, thereby bettering themselves, releasing them from the decay of their own bigotries.
Popeye Doyle (The French Connection) is another example of a lead character that never changes. No, if anything he only becomes more obsessed in his quest to catch the Big Bad, resembling the inflexible Ahab in Moby Dick. Tom Stall (A History of Violence) is another example, as is William Muny (The Unforgiven).
Finally, we mustn’t forget Charles Foster Kane (Citizen Kane) for who change was unwanted and unsought, but tragically thrust upon him. Yet, despite the identity everyone thought they knew, he was always the little lost boy of Colorado. At the film’s half way point we see him on a lonely street looking for a warehouse; “in search of my youth,” he explains. And upon his death he has one word, “that one word that tells you who a man is” (as the investigative reporter says) and that word is Rosebud. What is Rosebud? It is Kane’s primal identity, and it stays with him till his death, an identity no one –maybe not even Kane- ever fully knew.
(It should be noted, however that in the case of Tom Stall and William Muny, these men begin for us as already "changed men" -they are good guys from vicious pasts which we gradually learn about. But throughout the course of their cinematic journey, they revert back to their original selves until the journey ends in the final reel, with disturbing implications for their lives. This is a frequently visited approach in telling the tale of the Anti-hero character.)
Surely, these are all films with great plots and great characters. And again, while there are plenty of notable exceptions, for the most part, lead cinematic characters typically undergo some kind of alteration to their identities, more than just a mere modification (such as Doyle’s increased obsession). Even rock solid Atticus Finch (Happy birthday To Kill a Mockingbird!) experiences a change in personal beliefs, and thus his identity. After Boo Radley kills Bob Ewell, Atticus proposes that a trial be set. But his tiny daughter, Scout, tells him not to seek a trial, and to turn a blind eye to the issue. Holding a trial against Boo would be wrong, she argues. “It would be sorta like shooting a mockingbird, wouldn’t it?” she asks, and Atticus, enlightened by her wisdom, relents. He will never look at justice through his old eyes again.
My main point is to show that typically, cinematic heroes (and sometimes villains) undergo changes in identity. They grow. They don’t have to radically depart from their pasts, like butterflies from caterpillars, but they alter in such a way as to show that they no longer need to fall back upon their initial or originating sense of self. This is sometimes (and erroneously) called a bildungsroman –a “coming of age” story. However, it is not too far wrong a term since a bildungsroman is a story in which (typically) the protagonist undergoes spiritual, philosophical, moral, or political change, resulting in a redirection of his overall identity; say for example, as in going from adolescence to maturity. Growth in identity to the point where a character’s back story becomes minimal to his future development is often the main coda of the cinematic hero.
HOWEVER, in television this is generally NOT the case. In television, the main character’s identity rarely changes. Supporting characters (secondary or satellite characters) frequently have changes –growth experiences, births, deaths, marriages, children, serious diseases, whatever. These events are available to the main character also but he is only slightly modified by them (if at all) whereas the satellite characters can have complete transformations. This is not to say that they always DO, only that they are availed of transformation far more easily than the main character. Examples are rife: Hawkeye Pierce (M*A*S*H*), Marshall Dillon (Gunsmoke), Captain Kirk (Star Trek; notice that he experiences renewal in cinema but not in television), Jane Vasco (Painkiller Jane), the entire cast of Lost in Space, Dr. Gregory House (House), Sara Pezzini (Witchblade), Captain Jack Harkness (Torchwood), Michael Westen (Burn Notice), Jethro Lee Gibbs (NCIS), and so on.
While these (and other) television shows often have the principle protagonist undergo drastic “changes,” he/she remains primarily the same identity, that is, his identity as determined by his back story remains largely unchanged. They may have to come to terms with new and sometimes outlandish circumstances, situations, and environments, but they are who they are, and they remain the solid foundation of the series through its run. And there are very specific reasons for this, many of which are for reasons of market.
So the first thing to make certain about is what kind of environment you’re writing for. A cinematic hero will have many different technical and production restraints that differ widely from those of a television hero. Naturally, we’re not in a TV series or a film can, but we are in a game predicated by a television series. When you first designed Iain, were you thinking cinematically or televisually? When you design your game worlds, are they worlds we would likely find on the Big Screen, or the home entertainment system? If the former, then you needn’t worry that there is a disconnection between character background and character foreground (their upcoming development). That’s normal and to be expected. You’d better hope for that!
But if your game sessions or characters are patterned after television, bear in mind that a television show has a lot of peculiar needs and conditions that are completely absent in the role playing game environment. For instance, television shows are obligated to spend lots of time with superfluous and redundant narrative necessary to hold audience attention. Also, a television show has only so many precious minutes in which to tell its story. Character development suffers at the hands of plot, it’s always secondary to plot. If you want to know more about who the hero IS, you have to tune in for a long haul over the course of several episodes (much to the delight of the producers) …and by the time we’ve seen all that, nobody in their right minds wants to change anything! I’ve been in lots of writers meetings for both animation and live action shows and believe me, nobody is sitting around that table with their morning Joe, crullers, and yellow pads discussing “WHO is Jack Shepherd (LOST)?” The only thing on their minds is, “What new fresh hell can we throw at Jack Shepherd this week?” He may be sent on Mr. Toad’s wild ride with thrilling ups and downs, romances, angst, regret, laughs, rages and, terrors, but in the end, he will be the man he was always supposed to be …and that’s been decided long ago in pre-production. Throughout the course of a series the writer/producers may experiment here and there, explore new ideas and directions not thought of in the beginning: “What about an episode where Jack develops an attraction for Sawyer?” (Believe me, it happens!) They’re gonna discuss it all around, exploring the possibility, but if at the end of the day they feel that the idea –radically interesting as it is- goes too far away from the original conception of Jack Shepherd, the idea hits the scrap pile. That, after all, is what writers meetings are for.
Clearly, Iain is a primary character. If you treat him as a cinematic character, then change and transformation becomes an important issue. The problem is, SLM is predicated on a television format. If you create him for a television format, then change and transformation become less important. What becomes important is how he manages to “keep his head when all about him are losing theirs,” so to speak. You see, he has to remain an anchor of a kind, something dependable and reliable as an identity. For him, character is destiny, as the saying goes. Iain CAN however, grapple with his identity in a thematic or metaphorical way. But how does he do that?? This is the character’s struggle and the writer’s conundrum.
As for Iain’s present frame of mind, and the notion that he may be “painted in a corner,” I have an idea I’ll throw at you in a couple of days; it will come as a Private Message. You’re free to drop it into the dust bin if you like; as I say, I’m not a good role player, but I think I see a situation that will allow Iain to pole vault out of the corner without involving stakes to the chest, or the existence of ghosts. Will it be okay if I communicate with you further on this?
Pax.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:46, Sun 11 July 2010.
