The stagnation of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, MCU, has become a focal point at the time of this writing. The premiere of She Hulk has split the fanbase, and indeed Marvel's community is the most divisive in its history. Content is standard on a good outing, and worse than ever on a bad one. With this in mind, it can be calming to look at what makes this sprawling library of movies special; it can even be interesting to galivant about in its source material. Nowadays we can take the MCU for granted, but like it or not, it is truly a one of a kind experience. Interconnected movies, shows, and novelizations is an incredibly difficult feat. The fact that fans are only questioning its quality now is a miracle. The only equivalent to this sort of interconnectedness are in other forms of media. Games, books, and yes, comics all have examples of this format. The MCU stands alone on its basis of films. The Marvel comics run in particular is a point of obvious comparison to these movies. Marvel has weaponized apathy in its comic runs. The consequences of this are extreme and unique to the comic genre. The Marvel movies use short form storytelling to create a larger narrative. In order to facilitate audience interest they put a lot of work into character investment. People get up in arms over these characters because they care about them. So when Marvel creates a fluke like Thor: Love and Thunder, it isn't only a blunder of a single high-budget film, but also of a long-standing character. The more mistakes the MCU acquires, the greater the damage to the whole project. Compare this to the comics. Marvel has created a fundamental status quo through their longform comic arcs. This means that audience investment is primarily attached to the character's fundamentals. If there's a bad comic run, Marvel tends to find a way to retcon back to their basics. This is bad writing; but the consistency of this crutch has resulted in an audience expectation. No matter how crazy a comic story gets, the audience has grown to expect a return to norms. This institutionalized apathy creates a buffer for other bad writing practices. The audience finds comfort in knowing that only the greatest decisions will stick around for a long time. The MCU does not have this buffer. Audience investment is still high with every arc, and descent writing is expected. The comics run has the benefit of expectations around that genre. People don't tend to expect great writing in comics; nonsensical plots are commonplace. By taking itself seriously the MCU has improved its quality and impact, but at the cost of its longevity. You simply can't write great stories forever; I salute the attempt to try.
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Whether a table top role-playing game (TTRPG), a videogame, or a written narrative, character work is an integral part of narratively driven experiences. Character-driven decisions drive a story to a new level, improving audience investment in a visual media, but also player investment in an interactive one. So, what are some good things to keep in mind when writing a character? It's okay to start simple. You don't have to let your audience know a character's deep insecurities and complexities right off the bat. Part of the fun of a character is discovering more about them over the course of the story. Comic books are a champion of this method; The Human Torch started off flat and robotic; he was literally an android! Taking a character at face value, then slowly giving them more to work with is what makes the entirety of the MCU tick, along Star Wars, and Shonen anime. The tenet method. Most often, a character shouldn't feel like a one-dimensional entity that is following orders, but this method can still be useful. When figuring out the actions your character is going to take: consider the medium they're in, what their purpose is in the narrative of said medium, and finally, what guides their personal decisions. The medium is crucial, as if you're playing a game of Dungeons and Dragons, you want to consider the fun of everyone at the table. Compare this to a TV show, where the purpose is solely to entertain an audience. Apart from general function, you also want to consider what this means for the overarching purpose of the story. Sure a scene of a building exploding could be cool, but if the character who caused said explosion is a self-proclaimed pacifist, that may not fit so well. This concept sounds simple, but many writers mess up when in the heat of the moment. Consistency is key, even in implementing inconsistent character traits, and that leads us to our third point, the tenets themselves. When writing a character, think about why you make the decisions you make, then consider what is different in your character's life. Does it affect their decisions? Make a list, mental or otherwise, and that way whenever your character makes a decision you can refer back to the "almighty tenets." Don't "Fly too close to the sun." When writing a character, or multiple, you can have so many ideas at once that it might be tempting to just throw them all in! Not only can this make a character feel inconsistent, or like a series plot points rather than a character, it can also damage their relatability to the audience. Instead, save those ideas, there are many characters to come, and they might be a better fit. Of course, the hardest part of any creative process are the ideas you simply have to let go. This can feel awful, but there is a reason more than one story exists. In time those ideas that got chopped can return better than ever! Take these tips at your own leisure. While it's good to actively think about your characters, no one way is correct, and focusing too much on the technical can stunt your voice's presence. The best piece of advice is to do what you feel is best for your story, and to have some fun creating someone that may be loved for years to come. (The following contains Mentions of violence and other acts that may not be safe for young viewers of those easily disturbed or not wishing to be exposed to such content) The comedian serves as a crucial device for characterization and plot within the first three chapters of The Watchmen. Not only is his very presence a mastery in dramatic irony, but his alienation from the team, and the world around him only deepens this sense of solitude. Through the external lens, we receive a unique perspective of the core values of the group at large. Though displayed as the funny man, the comedian, he has the harshest views on the reality in which he lives in. This ideology is even directly compared to that of a much darker character, Rorschach, who even acknowledges that the comedian “gets it”. The comedian sees the darkest sides of the world, and through his own cruel manner of mockery, which is often disgustingly harmful to those around him, he is cast from the world at large and labeled scum. Through context we quickly learn of Sally Jupiter’s seeking of attention, in a gratuitous scene involving sexual assault. We learn of Dr. Manhattan’s apathy in a stunning display of indifference after the comedian guns down a woman which he impregnated. We even learn of Nite Owl’s lack of purpose; through the same scene learning of the self-destructive nature of the society around him, and how they are doomed to die. The comedian is never in the right through his actions, but through them we find all too horrific truths about the characters, and world he inhabits. Eddie Blake is a sick human being who, like a funhouse mirror, is discarded at the less respected corners of society, only able to view others as they view him. Many creators strive to drive emotion into the hearts of their audience. And while important, if this mentality is overemphasized it can diminish a terrific narrative.
Take the ending of Game of Thrones (GOT). Many considered the finish to the overall stellar show to be a catastrophic failure. Why? A perceived breach in character. In an attempt to make a large finale that would strike the biggest chord, the writers broke one of the core building blocks in audience investment. From the reception you can tell it wasn't pretty. Compare the conclusion of GOT with a show like Gravity Falls for example. The finale itself, Wierdmageddon, displays the highest stakes and action we've seen in the whole show; along with a heart wrenching change to a beloved character and a satisfying defeat of an antagonist -- an event teased since the first episode. But rather than stop on that note, the writers decided to end on the two children getting on a bus and leaving the small summer town. It feels like a proper conclusion, like every decision would eventually lead to that point. And it yields a huge gut punch, because even though you expected it, it produces such a wide range of emotions. It almost replicates leaving a real beloved place. Game of Thrones also ends with a goodbye and sendoff. But because it doesn't elicit the correct emotional response, this arguably same set of actions results in audiences panning it almost universally. The lesson is simple. Emotion should come from your story -- not a shocker. It is okay to want your audience to feel something. But their investment counts for more than a surprise. The world of emotions you've created counts for more than the singular emotion from a death, ending, or otherwise. Don't ruin your story at the expense of an emotional hook. Many consider such icons as J.R.R. Tolkien and Stan Lee as examples of mastery in their respective fields. But notable differences between the two arise when you consider the roles they play in their respective media. Tolkien has the right to claim full responsibility for the success of his novels (The Lord of The Rings, The Silmarillion, The Hobbit). Not only did he write them, he created the many intricacies of Middle Earth and the creatures which inhabit it. He crafted beautiful lines, memorable quotes, stories told through time, and rising interest of an entire generation in fantasy. Because Tolkien was solely responsible for the construction of these tales. Stan Lee, though a prominent member of Marvel -- and often the most recognized member -- was part of a team of artists, writers, inkers, and so on. He thought of many terrific characters and wrote them into life over so many issues, but without artists like Jack Kirby beside him, Lee could never have created such an impact. So, which is better? Well, the idea of exercising full creative control is exciting but risky. You take no chance of your work being altered, but it also puts all the pressure on one individual. If somebody were to have a problem with The Silmarillion, they’d have no one but Tolkien to criticize, while Lee is only one contributor out of many responsible for one issue of Marvel Comics. A team can be creatively liberating for putting less leverage on a sole individual, but can also be inhibiting, as the different participants work to keep each other happy. No one can have a sole vision in a team-based environment, as there’s simply too much distance to cover. One has to settle for an altered version that, though unpredictable, still fulfills all requirements. The singular individual’s capabilities versus an entire team’s worth will always be a question; and many mediums have adopted less or more for the sake of efficiency. There is no proper answer, but if the art benefits from one over the other, the piece comes before any one person completing it. Complacency is the death of creativity. Though many are aware of this fact, few strive to relate it to entertainment. Whether something to mindlessly watch or a masterwork of the human mind, the corporation just wants to head home for the night with more money than they spent. So, behind the trends as usual, let’s discuss some “assembly-line whimsy” that The Mouse - Disney- has cooked up. The Mandalorian, despite its many flaws, had a number of memorable setpieces, and cheesy action props that were a joy to fans as well as casual viewers. So when Wandavision was first announced, it was only fair to assume the same: yer another beautiful image, but nothing truly new. The Falcon and The Winter Soldier didn’t even attempt that. It was a Marvel blockbuster through and through, albeit for the small screen. Many viewers watched Wandavision solely because it was Marvel, and the company took full advantage of prior expectations. Those expecting a cheesy callback with some B-list superheroes were quickly treated to a darker undertone in the very first episode. It was incredibly executed, filled to the brim with charm, and I didn’t really like it. The pilot was quirky and decently entertaining, but I was much more intrigued by the opening of Marvel’s next installment. The Falcon and The Winter Soldier opens exactly how you’d expect it to: Action! Character development! Repercussions of the infamous Endgame! While this is all well and good - arguably even more engaging than Wandavision’s setup - it is also premeditated. Of course Marvel fans are going to love this! And that’s ok. But once the viewer dives into the respective shows, it becomes abundantly clear which is more worth your time regardless of its ties to Marvel. In much the same way that The Mandalorian would be toast without its connection to Star Wars, The Falcon and The Winter Soldier wouldn’t exist without the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s - MCU’s - abundant success. Wandavision also relies on the MCU, but for a different purpose. In 2017 the visual novel game Doki Doki Literature Club rocked the horror genre, and the gaming community as a whole, in large part due to its clever marketing and manipulation of audience expectations. Wandvavision employs a similar strategy by leaning into the sitcom/spoof side of the show for around a third of the total runtime before diving fully into the dark truth behind it all. Can one say objectively which of The Mouse’s new forays is better? Never. But what a viewer can easily prove for themselves is that a show doesn’t have to be normal to be good, and that utilizing normalcy in pursuit of creativity can have enchanting results. The Group of Four is an icon in roleplaying games (RPGs). The positions are well-known and beloved. You have the fighter, with their open and personal fighting style; the skilled member, with their seemingly endless ways to maneuver around and through situations; the magic-user, with their array of spells and mystic knowledge; as well as the support. What is support? They serve as the healer and glue of the characters. Every player has their own position to dominate, and makes up for their party’s weaknesses, making the format heavily favored among many video games and Table-top RPGs (TTRPGs). However, this route is systematically less efficient than a Five-Man Band or even a Party of Three. What do these two alternatives have in common? They’re odd numbers. This small change may seem ridiculous, but through this tiny differentiation they elevate themselves above the titular four. Having an odd number of players allows for less infighting, as majority rules determine all decisions. (No ties.) Meanwhile, The Group of Four has the potential to split into even groups, and as such can be left bickering over one subject for a longer margin. It also encourages splitting of the party which raises the potential for total party kills. The Five-Man Band also allows for more flexibility between occupations, and creativity soon follows. One member will always be at least partially skilled in another's forte, and this provides more stability, along with giving multiple members of the party something intrinsically in common from the start. It also rewards those whose talents are broader, and allows them to use the full ensemble. The Party of Three on the other hand, provides hyper-positioning for those who wish to dominate one field and one field only. It also encourages newer or shyer players to roleplay more effectively, as they take up a larger portion of the group. Of course there is nothing wrong with playing in a Group of Four, and some will always prefer it. Not to mention that many games are balanced with a party of four in mind. But from a narrative perspective, or even a design one, it may not be the pinnacle that we have made it out to be. We’re all desperate for entertainment in these trying times. And providers are eager to meet that demand — even if it means putting out low-quality content. Where once there was an expected level of quality before any title could reach its audience, just being made is enough. Now more than ever, media has gotten to the point where average content dominates the “most viewed” section of Netflix. Where even a mediocre show can be praised and adored because of its connection to a much better property. Where a game that’s been in development and delayed for so long gets rushed anyway and fans are forced to wait even longer for updates to fix flaws. Meanwhile, obscure content of much higher quality wastes away, becoming buried in the endless torrent of streaming services. Yes, hopping on a bandwagon can be invigorating and inclusive. But we only have so much time to consume content. It is imperative to give the little guy a chance. Without change, previously good properties become stale, and without change across all genres the market becomes stale. Next time a streaming service comes out with its biggest hit, decide for yourself if you like it — or if it's just wasting your time. The message of a story is something that always gets brought up in school. Gatsby’s “old money vs. new money” and Star Wars’ take on faith are part of what makes them such classics. But another titan that has made its mark with themes is Pixar. So many studios have tried to replicate the Pixar formula, but it’s less of a formula and more of an ideal. The best features of the company have something to do with life. They breathe an essence such as passion, family, and acceptance into their work that makes it greater than just an animated movie. Yes, it’s for kids. Yes, they are far from flawless. Yes, Pixar hasn’t been as effective in recent years. But they have changed lives, and shaped the outlooks of many. This is all being said of course, because Pixar’s newest foray "Soul" dropped this Christmas. The expectations were low, as Onward was something of a disappointment. But Soul was living! It may not become another Incredibles or Wall-E, but the film has one the best messages of any Pixar movie, even expanding on the center of smash hits like Coco and Inside Out. Today marks Christmas of a hard year for many people, and a time of family and acceptance in many cultures. To further emphasize some unity, I highly recommend that everyone who can watch Soul. It’s cheesy, but we’re all in this together. Life is still worth living: Happy Holidays all! Rey Skywalker is one of the worst Star Wars characters put to screen -- and, no, it isn’t because she’s a girl. The more franchises come and go in the modern era, the more patterns become clear. Recently, “strong female protagonists” are a popular flavor. This is not meant to be a sexist statement, but a number of the characters born of this mindset aren’t very compelling. The aforementioned Rey is a prime example. She has little obstacles to overcome, and her execution of overcoming said obstacles is sloppy because she has to succeed. But she is not alone. Another from The Mandalorian is Kara Dune. We get just enough background to understand her basic motivation, which are broken for reasons undisclosed from the audience. So aside from her lack of personality Kara is just another character who blasts things, and honestly has no purpose beyond carrying Mando’s guns for him and being a female protagonist. And, no, the reason for this lack of complexity isn’t because they are women, as plenty of other fictional characters prove (see Star Wars’ original heroine, Princess Leia, or Shallan from Brandon Sanderson’s The Stormlight Archive), but rather due to the perception of them as women, primarily by male writers. To further explain, when Rey was first revealed at the announcement of The Force Awakens, she was described as a “strong female lead.” Great! We can always use some more of those, but women are people, just like everybody else, and should be deserving of the same treatment as every other character. When a female character is written, their gender shouldn’t define them. The mindset shouldn’t be “awesome girl”, but rather “awesome and a girl”. If more characters were born in this light, the divide between genders would wane until eventually it disappeared. We would no longer get bland characters solely defined by their gender, whilst also receiving better characters of both sexes in equal part. |
AuthorMcRae Walker, an 20-year-old writer and lover of many dorky topics. Archives
September 2022
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