#Yes. I do have anxiety. As someone who mains Paladin the fear of running a new dungeon is high.

[sol1056]

character arcs as questions, followup

I’m going to quote only some of the responses (and break a few up to separate out the topics), since a lot of them overlap. 

a note about Yuuri on Ice 

truth and lies character arcs

the difference in the midpoint

learning lessons: Yuri, Hunk, Lance

the need for agency

Behind the cut. 

a note about Yuuri on Ice

@jeannettegray @cristak and the anon who sent me the two-parter about Yuuri all had various observations: Yuuri didn’t need the gold, his story isn’t over yet, his anxiety was secondary to his romance. For a more thorough meta on Yuuri’s arc, I’ll send you to @caramelcheese​​. Her meta goes deep, and maps pretty close to how I see that story. 

I used YoI as an example because structurally, Yuuri’s story is not a change arc. He’s not all that much different at the end from who he was at the start; he began as one of the top six in the world, and ended there (unreliable narrator issues aside). As someone raised in a loving and supportive family, he's new to romance but love itself is not a wholly unfamiliar experience. 

You can debate the exact nature of his question, if you like. Structurally, his story still isn’t a change arc, and that was my point. 

truth and lies in character arcs

another anon:

...you gotta think of your characters stories from a want vs. need perspective as well. Maybe. Our character wants to win something, but importantly, needs to learn something and the external validation/reward is less important than self-validation/growth...

If you’re writing a change arc, then yes. That type centers on the conflict between the lie the character believes (influencing what they want), and the truth they must learn (what they need to do or be).

That lie is really just a coping mechanism. It’s something they learned would keep them safe, and it did --- until the instigating event pushes them into new world. Now, what once helped becomes their greatest harm. 

The longer they cling to those lies, the greater the narrative punishes them (the try/fail cycle). Their dark night of the soul is when they must let go of their lies and face their truth. Doing so will change them, often radically, as they become their authentic selves. 

But that’s not the only kind of arc you can write. 

I’ve talked about the different kinds of character arcs before. I didn’t go that much into flat arcs, but I did call out two: 

In a maturity arc, external factors force the character to overcome doubts or disadvantages, which in turn are the key to victory. Wonder Woman being temporarily overwhelmed at the magnitude of the fight she’s taken on is a midpoint of a flat arc. She fights her demons, reaffirms her truth, and gets back in the fight.

In an alteration arc, the character has a change of perspective. A corporate successful attorney sees the damage they helped cause, and their midpoint is a re-evaluation. The second half of their story, they’ll fight using the same tools, but now in a different direction. Other than that shift in their view, they’re still mostly the same.

Any arc can be posed as a question, of course. A maturity arc is just the easiest, because it really is a yes/no question: can the character do X? With their truth already in hand, the try/fail cycle doesn’t punish the character for clinging to a lie. It punishes the character for refusing to let go of that truth. 

Yoon-Hee has to get through the civil exams undiscovered, survive dorm life among boys, and evade a professor who knew her father. Yuuri has to run a gauntlet of competitions to re-establish himself, effectively starting from scratch all over again. Shiro is tortured, tormented, forcibly ejected from his lion, brutally wounded, and loses potential allies too soon; even his own lion seems to be working against him.  

None of these three ever really question whether their goal is good; instead, they doubt their ability or worthiness to achieve the goal. They ask: how much longer can I keep this up? What if I’m not up to this? Can I really do this? 

Kim Weiland describes it as: “In short, they have a Doubt—and it keeps them seeking throughout the story, even as the undeniable power of their conviction in the Truth transforms other characters around them.”

The character holds their truth in defiance of the world’s lies, and in the end, the character doesn’t change all that much. Instead, they change the world. 

Unless, of course, the answer is no.

the difference in the midpoint

If the dark night is resolved with the realization they’ve been going about this all wrong-headed and need to try something new, it’s a change arc. If the dark night pivots on self-doubt over whether they’re able or enough, it’s a flat arc.

If Yoon-Hee had hit the midpoint and realized she’d been believing a lie that said education is the only measure of worth, and then threw herself into finding a husband, that’d signal a change arc. When she picks herself up, determined to work harder towards her goal, that confirms she’s got a flat arc.

If we say Yuuri’s midpoint is his breakdown in the parking garage, a change arc would dictate he must realize he’s been believing a lie. That doesn’t happen; his midpoint revolves around believing in his own ability, and his need for Victor to be there when Yuuri falters. It’s a high-stakes and intense moment, not a brooding midpoint like Captain America often gets. But it’s still a clear flat-arc style of midpoint.

Shiro’s midpoint is more complex than the other two examples, as he arguably goes through it twice. One dark night begins at the end of S1 and continues to the middle of S2; the other covers S3 to the end of S6. In at least the first case, Shiro’s choice is to double down, fight Zarkon, and end up bonded stronger with Black. In S2, Shiro regains his certainty, confident that his answer will be yes, as long as he stays true to himself. 

learning lessons: Yuri, Hunk, Lance

from another anon:

let’s say ... the main character is very self-centered but needs to learn to become part of a team ... what’s more satisfying, getting the gold medal in the end or getting a strong team/friends and seeing that external rewards don’t matter as much as personal/interpersonal ones?

Any arc can create a satisfying story, so long as the arc is brought to its natural conclusion. It really depends on the character, and what kind of story the writer wants that character to experience. 

In YoI, the younger Yuri has a classic change arc. He believes a lie in which a gold medal would validate his self-worth. The best instigating events are ones that appear to satisfy the lie so thoroughly that the character simply cannot refuse, but at the same time, sets the character on a path towards that midpoint realization. 

A chance to use Victor’s routine is exactly that, wrapped up in one gold-medal package. But like every good instigating event, there’s a stinger in the tale: the routine assigned requires Yuri be true to himself --- expressing selfless agape --- rather than cling to the persona he desperately wishes were true. In that, Yuri’s arc is also a failure: he doesn’t change. He clings to the lie he believes, and the story hands him a gold for the effort. 

on the previous question-arc post, @speakswords commented:

Lance and Hunk have questions, they've just been abandoned by the storyline. Hunk’s was something like 'can he step up to plate to do a job that must be done even if he doesn't want to?' Lance's was something like 'can he prove his worth.' ... Lance's question has answered with a resounding no, despite the narrative setting up and providing all the necessary pieces to give Lance's arc a yes answer. 

Hmm. I think what muddies those examples is that fear (Hunk) and insecurity (Lance) can also be expressions of self-doubt. After pondering it, I can’t actually tell. If either ever got a clear outline for their development, that outline got tossed or watered down. I won’t say bad writing so much as... well, an ensemble’s tough to write well. Sometimes characters get handed shortcuts instead of actual arcs. 

What I’m thinking happened to their arcs is they got switched mid-stream from a change arc to a flat arc. That would take as many words to explain as I’ve already written, so if you want me to keep going on that, send an ask. I’ll put it on the list and tackle it as its own post. 

the need for agency

on my post about Shiro’s arc, @gundamgirl17 commented:

While I disagree that withholding agency for Shiro is inherently wrong ... [I want] him to grow and complete his arc and have a happy ending as much as the next person, I don't see anything inherently wrong with the writers making him a tragic character instead.

I respectfully disagree in the strongest possible terms: withholding agency is absolutely wrong by every storytelling measure. 

Chuck Wendig (as usual) puts it best: 

Character agency is, to me, a demonstration of the character’s ability to make decisions and affect the story. This character has motivations all her own. She is active more than she is reactive. She pushes on the plot more than the plot pushes on her. Even better, the plot exists as a direct result of the character’s actions.

A story that negates a character's choice, or blocks the character from acting on that choice, is a bad story. I don’t mean bad/good in the sense of message or morals. I mean bad writing, plain and simple.

We never saw the crucial decision points onscreen: when and why did Keith accept his role after so long being reluctant? When and why did Shiro stop being a paladin? When and why did Allura decide she returns Lance’s feelings? When and why did Lance set aside his easy-going perspective and turn so grim? The one time we saw a character grapple with anything --- when Hunk decided to rescue his family --- the story never let him follow through. If he had anything to do with his family’s rescue, we never saw it.  

I am totally sympathetic with those fans who seek the silver lining, who say Shiro’s pride in Atlas is a sign he’s moved on, has a new place, and will do well there. But I never saw him choose that. 

Shiro’s arc began as a question. At the end of S2, the story answered, and said no. Shiro had fought and struggled and tried, and in the end, he paid for his convictions with his life.  

Whatever he’d learned in the time since, the story didn’t let him act upon it. Whatever he might’ve seen as his options, the story didn’t give him a chance to consider or decide. Whatever he might’ve felt in regret or hope, the story refused to show. The story required he fill a specific space, the plot required that he be happy about it, and the writing hollowed him out to make it so. 

The most common complaint I’ve gotten post-S7 --- beyond representation, plot logic, or shipping --- has been about S7′s lack of heart. Some of S7′s lingering hurt comes from a sense of those broken arcs, and the way that brokenness turns every win into a loss from another angle.

What broke those arcs, though, was the story reducing the characters to puppets, pushed around by the story. It turned a complicated narrative into a recitation of events, play-acted by empty characters. I have my theories on what sent everything in this direction, but I’ll leave that for another post.