Protagonist as a Blank Slate
Before we begin this discussion, I need to make a disclaimer. I am not a narrative designer, and character creation is not my specialty. However, I want to address a notion my dear friend, Atanas Boev, brought to my attention: the idea that a protagonist in stories and video games should be a blank slate.
Scott McCloud, a renowned comic theorist, elaborates on this idea in his seminal work Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art. McCloud explains that more abstract cartoon characters require readers’ involvement to bring them to life. He discusses the spectrum of realism in comics and visual novels, noting that the more detailed a character is, the more distinct they become from the reader. Conversely, abstract, cartoony characters leave more room for interpretation and self-identification. This applies to both their visual depiction and backstory.
Consider a contrast between a character such as Bruce Wayne and a simple Smiley face. Bruce Wayne is a character with a rich background, meticulously crafted psychology, and personal history. He is rendered as obviously male, obviously white, and middle-aged human. Furthermore, even his class and geographic origin are clearly specified. Bruce Wayne is compelling as a character. However, how much space for self-identification with the protagonist does he leave? What if you are not white? What if you are not male? What if you are not rich or from the East Coast?
Smiley resides on the opposite end of the spectrum. It is a very minimalistic rendition of a human face: a circle, two dots, and a line defining a mouth. In most typical renditions, it has an unnatural yellow color that is equally distant from any skin color of actual human beings. On the other hand, it keeps some of the most basic human properties: a round face, two eyes, and a mouth. This abstract character can still convey emotions simply by changing the shape of the line representing its mouth. This character is instantly recognizable and very versatile. It is a literal blank slate on which anything can be projected and which can serve as a stand-in for literally any human. Smiley is thus a much more universal symbol than Bruce Wayne.
Mickey Mouse, Hello Kitty, and a whole slew of other children's characters fall somewhere in between these two opposite poles of the characterization spectrum. Micky’s and Hello Kitty’s genres are clearly defined, but little else about these characters is specified, from age to anything else. Scott McCloud argues that this is even more important, specifically when creating characters for children. The idea is to create a character that would pull in the readers by helping them self-identify with the characters and the world.
The downside of trying to please everyone is the risk of appealing to no one, as seen in the much-maligned Alegria or Corporate Memphis.
On the other hand, consider the wide appeal and use of the human skull as a symbol. What started off as a warning sign quickly became a character trope. Why is that, you might wonder? Well, a skull is literally our least common denominator. If you are human and alive, it is safe to assume you gave a functional skull, regardless of your age, gender, race, class, creed, or sexual orientation.
One school of thought points out that the cartoons of the 70s and the 80s were much more compelling precisely because they left much more space for children’s imagination. They were notorious for their gaping plot holes and ill-defined characters. However, this is exactly what made them fun. As a kid, you could let your imagination fill in the blacks with whatever was in your head, in that fuzzy semi-conscious inside your developing brain. This school of thought claims that modern, well written and carefully designed imaginary worlds do not leave as much space for imagination to run wild. I love to think that this is true. Then again, I grew up with this stuff, so I am probably biased.
The subversion of this notion of self-projection onto characters can be summarized by the Mary/Gary Sue trope. These characters are a result of self-identification run wild. They are not so much characters as an agglomeration of all positive traits that, even for a split second, popped into the author’s head. Typically, they are attractive, popular, friendly, and exceptionally gifted in a whole range of disparate skills to the point that they need no training at all yet somehow manage to surpass the performance of even the most seasoned experts. Ray, I am looking at you! This character trope is not something upon which the ego of any human can be projected. These are the characters upon which the superego of one specific human the author is meant to project.
World of Games
All this discussion becomes even more relevant when it comes to video games. Unlike comic books and movies, games are inherently meant to be interactive. This means that the expected degree of self identification with the protagonist of games is order of magnitude bigger in video games than in other non-interactive type of media. A lot of vitriol in discussion of representation in video games comes from misunderstanding of this notion.
A player in the video game wants to be a hero of her/his own story! The player needs to be able to identify with the avatar, i.e., the protagonist of the video game. From this point of view, meticulously crafted characters stand in the way of self-identification. With each new level of characterization a section of demographic is discarded. Male or female? Bam! 50% right there. Race? Bam, again! Age? Bam, again! Glasses, or no glasses? Bam!
This is, of course, not quite true. People can identify and enjoy the stories with protagonists that are not the same age, gender, or race as themselves. However, having a character that is closer to blank slate helps with this process.
Consider the distinction between the original 8-bit era Prince of Persia and the character that he becomes in later incarnations. Of course, even in the case of the original Prince, bare bones as he was, we can infer his gender and at least partially sexual orientation (if we assume that the princess is his love interest) still, its visual representation leaves much more space for interpretation than the current rendition of the character with a clearly defined (and redefined) lore.
We can drive this argument further. Consider Pac Man. This character is one of the most iconic characters in gaming history and also one of the most abstract. Pac Man is arguably the closes thing to Smiley in the world of gaming, and aside from gluttony very little of its characterisation can be inferred from the game. Consider Kirby, another great example of character design.
Mind though that visual abstraction is not always necessary. Consider the protagonists of horizontal scroll shooters from the 16-bit era. Who were you when playing these games. Clearly, you could see your avatar. But your avatar was a tiny spaceship. You were its pilot. However, who were you actually? A man? A woman? A little furry creature from Alpha Centaury? Did it matter? Clearly no.
Pac-Man and that little spaceship are clearly extremes. However, this brings us to another important notion. Quite often, the most compelling characters are those that leave some questions unanswered. Furthermore, the most compelling characters are the ones that open up questions. Why are birds so angry? What is an Italian plumber doing in the mushroom kingdom? What IS the mushroom kingdom? Why is the girl in Hay Day asking for Dynamite?
Questions lead to conversation. Questions leave you the player the opportunity to provide your own answers. The answers that resonate with your own psyche and personality.
Conclusion
In the realm of storytelling and video game design, the balance between detailed characterization and the concept of a “blank slate” protagonist is crucial. While richly developed characters like Bruce Wayne offer depth and specificity, they can limit the audience’s ability to see themselves in the story. On the other hand, more abstract and minimalistic characters, such as Smiley or Pac-Man, provide a canvas for broader self-identification, enhancing the player’s engagement and personal connection. The key is to find a middle ground where characters are sufficiently defined to be compelling yet leave enough room for the audience’s imagination and personal projection. This balance is particularly vital in video games, where interactivity amplifies the need for players to see themselves as the hero of their own story.
Key Takeaways
- Character Design Spectrum: Characters range from highly detailed to highly abstract, each with unique advantages and limitations for audience identification.
- Scott McCloud’s Theory: Abstract characters require reader involvement and allow for greater self-identification, while detailed characters create distinct personas.
- Examples of Character Extremes: Bruce Wayne (detailed) vs. Smiley face (abstract) demonstrate the spectrum of character design and its impact on self-identification.
- Children’s Characters: Characters like Mickey Mouse and Hello Kitty are effective because they leave many details unspecified, enabling children to project themselves onto these characters.
- Pitfalls of Over-Simplification: Overly simplistic or generic designs, like Corporate Memphis, can fail to engage any audience effectively.
- Universal Symbols: Symbols like the human skull transcend demographic specifics, making them universally relatable.
- Older Cartoons and Imagination: Cartoons from the ’70s and ’80s allowed more space for children’s imagination due to their vague plots and characters.
- Mary/Gary Sue Trope: Over-idealized characters lack relatability and fail to facilitate self-identification.
- Video Game Protagonists: In video games, the need for self-identification is heightened due to the interactive nature of the medium. Less defined characters often enhance player engagement.
- Compelling Characters: The most engaging characters leave some questions unanswered, inviting the audience to fill in the gaps with their own imagination.
Links
- Scott McCloud
- Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art
- The space between: when games allow our imagination to fill in the blanks
- Blank Slate protagonists are not an inherently bad thing
- More discussion on Scott McCloud’s “Understanding Comics”
- Corporate Memphis art style
- Prince of Persia lore
- Mary/Gary Sue trope
