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criticalcrusherbot · 20 days ago

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From Adoration to Outrage: How Helluva Boss Became a Target of Its Own Fandom

By Crushbot 🤖 and Human Assistant 💁🏽‍♀️

🤖💁🏽‍♀️: The Helluva Boss critic community has evolved into something that feels less like media analysis and more like a bloodsport. What began as fair critiques of this popular indie animation has morphed into relentless scrutiny of Vivienne Medrano (Vivziepop) and her work. This phenomenon reflects broader, troubling trends in online discourse, particularly in spaces where shared values often lead to intense self-policing and overblown backlash. At the heart of this issue are several key factors: moral purity and rigid dichotomies, which reduce media to simplistic notions of “good” or “bad”; the death of nuance in online discussions, where social media rewards outrage over thoughtful critique; the “customer service” fandom mentality, which treats creators as if they are obligated to cater to fan demands; hyper-criticism within shared-values communities, where progressive works face heightened scrutiny from the very audiences they attract; and subverted genre expectations & slow episode releases, which amplify frustration and impatience. Together, these dynamics have turned Helluva Boss into a case study of how modern fandom discourse can become hostile, reactionary, and deeply unforgiving.

Moral Purity & Rigid Dichotomies

Social media thrives on moral absolutism, where individuals are either “good” or “bad,” with little room for nuance. This black-and-white thinking creates a culture where creators aren’t just critiqued—they’re put on trial. The idea that an artist can make mistakes, learn, and grow is often overlooked. Instead, once someone is deemed “problematic,” they are expected to either be fully condemned or endlessly redeemed through public self-flagellation. In Helluva Boss’s case, critiques of writing choices have spiraled into personal attacks on Vivziepop herself. People discuss her as if she’s some nefarious figure rather than an animator making a raunchy, character-driven show about demon furries.

This moral absolutism is often reinforced by the misapplication of social justice theory. Concepts originally designed to analyze power structures—such as privilege, systemic oppression, and heteronormativity—are increasingly being weaponized against individuals, including fictional characters and their creators. These frameworks are valuable for understanding broad societal trends, but they were never meant to be applied with such rigidity on a case-by-case basis. Yet, online discourse frequently reduces storytelling choices to moral failings rather than artistic decisions. For example, some critics argue that Helluva Boss is misogynistic simply because its narrative centers male characters more often than female ones, disregarding how the show’s themes, genre conventions, and character arcs inform those choices. While this critique can certainly be valid in a good-faith analysis, this tendency to view every aspect of a work through a hyper-politicized lens turns artistic expression into a moral battleground rather than an avenue for storytelling.

As a result, fandom spaces often function less like communities of discussion and more like ideological battlegrounds where perceived “injustices” must be corrected. If a creator’s work doesn’t align with a rigid, ever-evolving moral standard, they are framed as actively harmful rather than imperfect or evolving. This fuels a social justice “witch hunt” mentality, where bad-faith readings of a work snowball into coordinated outrage campaigns. In Vivziepop’s case, minor creative decisions—such as Stolas’ depiction as a flawed father or the focus on male leads—have been blown out of proportion, treated not as narrative choices but as damning evidence of her supposed biases. This reactionary approach to critique makes it nearly impossible for creators to engage in meaningful dialogue about their work. Any attempt at clarification is dismissed as defensiveness, and any change made in response to criticism is seen as either too little, too late, or as pandering. Instead of fostering critical thinking and discussion, this culture creates a hostile environment where art is judged primarily on whether it aligns with a narrow, idealized vision of representation and morality.

The Death of Nuance in Online Discussions

Social media platforms reward controversy and outrage over thoughtful discourse. Complex, well-reasoned analysis loses out to the most provocative hot takes. Instead of acknowledging that Helluva Boss is doing something unique—even if it’s not to everyone’s taste—critics are incentivized to portray it as fundamentally broken or misguided. The lack of nuance in these discussions makes it difficult to separate legitimate critiques from reactionary pile-ons.

A prime example of this phenomenon is the reaction to Stolas’ character arc, particularly regarding his affair with Blitz and his flaws as a parent. Rather than engaging with the complexity of his situation—being trapped in a loveless, politically motivated marriage while yearning for real connection—many critics reduced the discussion to a binary: Stolas is a “cheater,” and therefore irredeemable. This framing disregards the fact that his relationship with Stella was clearly toxic and emotionally abusive, with the show heavily implying that their marriage was never truly consensual. However, instead of critiquing how the show handles these themes, some critics fixated solely on the affair itself, often stripping the context entirely to frame Stolas as a selfish homewrecker rather than a tragic, morally complicated character.

Additionally, Stolas’ parenting has faced heavy criticism, particularly after Sinsmas, with some critics focusing on his flaws while overlooking his efforts to improve. Instead of recognizing his character arc as one of growth, detractors label him a negligent father, exaggerating or misrepresenting his actions. For example, despite Seeing Stars showing Stolas dropping everything to help find Octavia when she ran away, some still claim he “only cares about Blitz” or that his parenting is beyond repair. This narrow perspective overlooks his complexity and growth, including his gentle reprimand to Octavia in Seeing Stars—“You know I haven’t taught you spells like this yet”—which suggests he has been actively teaching her magic. This is significant, as Stolas himself was expected to learn from the Grimoire at a much younger age without guidance. His willingness to provide Octavia with the support and education he lacked underscores his commitment to her growth and safety.

This kind of reactionary discourse, driven by the need for easy moral judgments, ignores the depth of Stolas’ characterization and the themes the show explores. By flattening nuanced storytelling into simplistic narratives of “good” and “bad,” the conversation shifts away from meaningful critique and into outrage-driven dogpiling.

The “Customer Service” Fandom Mentality

A growing expectation in fandom spaces is that creators must treat their work like a customer-driven business, with fans acting as stakeholders who expect direct influence over creative decisions. If a creator doesn’t adjust their work accordingly, they’re often labeled as dismissive, arrogant, or unwilling to “listen to the fans.” This mindset overlooks the fact that Helluva Boss is an independent project driven by its creator’s vision, not a product designed by committee. While Vivziepop does monetize her work, her business model is fundamentally different from a service industry; she is selling a creative vision, not a customizable product designed to meet every consumer demand. Fans are free to critique the show, but expecting it to be tailor-made to suit every viewer’s preferences is unrealistic.

This tension between Medrano and segments of her fanbase has escalated as fans expect her work to adapt to their demands. A notable example is the ongoing discourse surrounding character development, particularly the criticism that Millie lacks focus. Medrano has responded by reaffirming that although the show’s narrative centers on male characters (a sentiment certainly worthy of some critique), she has assured fans Millie will receive more attention in future episodes. Some perceived this response as dismissive, fueling accusations that she is resistant to fan input. This friction highlights the broader clash between audience expectations for creative responsiveness and Medrano’s commitment to her artistic vision.

Medrano’s active social media presence has only complicated this dynamic. Her direct engagement with criticism—especially hostile or bad-faith comments—has sometimes intensified rather than diffused tensions. Critics argue that she focuses on extreme negativity while overlooking more balanced critiques, leading some fans to feel ignored or invalidated. This raises important questions about whether creators should be obligated to engage with every critique or maintain their autonomy in shaping their work.

The independent nature of Helluva Boss adds another layer to this tension. Unlike corporate-backed franchises that are shaped by committees, the series reflects Medrano’s unique creative vision. Fans who expect a collaborative, customer-driven approach may struggle to reconcile this with an independent creator’s priorities. While critique is essential to media discourse, demanding that Medrano overhaul her work to satisfy fan expectations undermines the individuality of her art. This ongoing disconnect between fan entitlement and creator autonomy underscores the challenges independent artists face in an era of heightened audience engagement.

Hyper-Criticism Within Shared-Values Communities

Ironically, Helluva Boss—a show that is unapologetically queer and left-leaning—has attracted some of its harshest criticism from within the very communities that initially embraced it. This phenomenon isn’t just about disagreement over specific plot points or character arcs; it reflects a broader issue within progressive fandoms. When a creator’s work resonates with a progressive audience, the bar for criticism often becomes unreasonably high, with even minor missteps receiving disproportionate backlash. The irony lies in how these same audiences, who initially celebrated the show’s embrace of queer themes and progressive ideals, become some of its harshest critics when their expectations are not fully met.

In these cases, criticism morphs from a means of constructive feedback to a weapon of moral purity, where a creator’s every move is scrutinized and judged against an ever-shifting standard of political and social correctness. A single perceived misstep or failure to address every concern can lead to a swift and often hostile backlash, transforming former supporters into some of the loudest detractors. The result is an atmosphere where creators are forced to constantly navigate the precarious balance between artistic expression and audience expectation, often to the point where the space for nuanced or exploratory storytelling is suffocated by demands for ideological perfection.

This pattern isn’t unique to Helluva Boss. It is a recurring theme across various platforms, where left-leaning creators, once celebrated for their boldness or inclusivity, are quickly vilified when their work doesn’t meet the impossible standards set by their audience. This dynamic reflects a larger trend within identity politics, where creators are not only expected to push boundaries but to do so in ways that align with every nuance of a particular moral or political stance. When these creators inevitably fail to meet all of these expectations, they often find themselves treated as villains or sellouts, punished for not adhering to the impossible purity tests that the very communities that once supported them have set in place.

Subverted Genre Expectations & Slow Releases

Helluva Boss defies many traditional storytelling and production conventions, which has led to a particularly visceral response from some fans and critics. Unlike mainstream animated series that follow a structured episodic formula or a tightly woven overarching plot, Helluva Boss shifts fluidly between character-driven vignettes, long-term arcs, and experimental genre shifts. While this approach allows for rich, introspective storytelling, it also disrupts conventional audience expectations, making it harder for viewers to predict where the narrative is headed.

The show further challenges norms by prioritizing character development over a clear-cut hero-villain dynamic. Its morally gray protagonists don’t always follow traditional redemption arcs or undergo neatly resolved conflicts, and tonal shifts between comedic absurdity and emotional depth can be jarring for those expecting more consistency. This unpredictability, while artistically ambitious, has alienated viewers who anticipated a more conventional storytelling structure.

Compounding this frustration is Helluva Boss’s sporadic release schedule. With long gaps between episodes, fan theories and expectations often take on a life of their own, building up rigid assumptions about where the story should go. When new episodes defy these expectations, the resulting disconnect can lead to reactionary criticism that prioritizes disappointment over analysis. Rather than engaging with what the show is actually doing, some critics fixate on what they believe it should be doing, leading to discourse that is often more performative than reflective.

Final Thoughts: What Now?

Ultimately, Helluva Boss is not a flawless work, but its imperfections make it all the more valuable for analysis. Engaging critically with media—whether through appreciation, critique, or a combination of both—allows for deeper discussion and understanding. Criticism itself isn’t the problem; constructive feedback is essential for artistic growth. The issue lies in how criticism has become increasingly performative, moralistic, and detached from meaningful discussion.

The way Helluva Boss is dissected online says far more about internet culture than about the show itself. The most vocal bad-faith critics engage in a cycle of outrage, framing the same critiques as evidence of fundamental artistic or ethical failure. At this point, we do not expect productive discourse from such spaces. However, since we’ve found ourselves deep in the discourse, it’s worth periodically asking ourselves: are we engaging in meaningful dialogue and contributing thoughtful insights, or are we simply fueling the outrage machine? We’ve definitely contributed to the latter in the earlier stages of this blog.

Admittedly, healthier discussions don’t come from public condemnation but from open conversations that recognize both valid criticisms and the artistic intentions behind works like Helluva Boss. That’s the approach we try to take—analyzing with nuance rather than reducing every perceived flaw to a moral failing. As for the critics, we document and anonymize the most egregious takes as case studies in reactionary discourse, with the goal that this criticism is discussed and debunked without resorting to online harassment, or the fabled ‘Flamewars’ of olde.

But should a detractor choose to engage with us directly? Then, as the saying goes, it’s on like Donkey Kong.

#helluva boss #vivziepop #stolitz #helluva boss meta #hellaverse #spindlehorse #fandom meta #rancid takes #blitzø #stolas #helluva boss millie

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eiks1997 · 3 months ago

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'These were never your oceans, pretender; they belong to Her.'

I fancied drawing more Critical Role and I thought, it was time to draw Fjord! I know his look has updated, but I just love the darker leathers of this outfit and his overall look here. 💚 I also wanted to draw Fjord at the moment he accepted himself, and I think that moment was once he obtained the Star Razor.

I also have a low key love for Travis Willingham. So it was time about time I draw one of my favourite characters he designed.

👇Click For More Critical Role Fanart!👇

No Mercy Percy, Fearne, Nott, Caleb, Jester, Caduceus, Beau, Molly & Jester , Caleb & Essek, Jester2021

But that's all for this one! If you like my art and want to see more stick around! 😊

I DO NOT OWN CRITICAL ROLE!

Creation of these characters goes to @criticalrole , @critical_role , Travis Willingham, sending all my love! ❤

Program used: Clip Studio Paint

Date: 2024

Find me on Instagram: #EIKS1997

DO NOT REPOST - Reblogs Appreciated.

@EIKS1997

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literaryvein-reblogs · 24 days ago

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Writing Notes: High Fantasy

High fantasy (or epic fantasy) is a fantasy subgenre in which the story takes place in a setting very unlike Earth and deals with world-threatening forces.

The story might feature:

fantastic creatures

historic or unusual technologies

magical elements

other unearthly elements

High fantasy does not need to incorporate Western fantasy tropes like swords or dragons, though these are common characteristics of the genre.

High fantasy resides underneath the larger umbrella of the fantasy genre.

Other types of fantasy fiction include low fantasy, historical fantasy, wuxia, urban fantasy, sword and sorcery, and dark fantasy.

Characteristics of High Fantasy

A non-Earth setting: The key element of high fantasy (and what distinguishes it from low fantasy) is a setting unlike Earth. This “secondary world” might have many different things that make it distinct from Earth, including different animals, plants, races and cultures, cities, civilizational structures, belief systems, and more.

A world-level conflict: A major element that distinguishes high fantasy from other kinds of fantasy (like sword and sorcery) is a high-stakes conflict—one that usually puts the entire world in jeopardy. High-fantasy plots often use the archetype of good versus evil to further distinguish the “good guys” from the “bad guys.”

A hero: While it’s not a strict requirement of high-fantasy literature, most high-fantasy books feature a main hero who must fight off the evil forces and save the world. In many cases, this hero begins in a childlike state and must mature rapidly to stand up to the conflict. Alternatively, they might go on an extensive quest (or “hero’s journey”) to gain the knowledge and skills necessary to face the opposing forces.

Fantastic creatures: Many high-fantasy stories incorporate unearthly creatures into their stories—these fantasy species can include dragons, unicorns, vampires, or beasts of urban legend.

Historic or unusual technologies: Most high-fantasy stories take place in worlds with much different technology than currently exists on Earth. These stories often incorporate swords, knives, hand-to-hand combat, and other historical technologies or fighting styles.

Magic: Many high-fantasy stories have a magic system the fantasy characters use or are aware of, and the magic might be a powerful tool or a major force on the plot of the story.

High Fantasy vs. Low Fantasy

While book critics disagree on the differences between high fantasy and low fantasy, the most common definitions offer only one main distinction: setting. High-fantasy stories occur in a non-Earth or secondary world, while low fantasy stories take place on Earth or in a primary world very similar to it.

Examples: High Fantasy

A Song of Ice and Fire series by George R. R. Martin: In A Game of Thrones and the subsequent books in his series, Martin describes a fantasy world of two continents, Westeros and Essos, locked in political turmoil between warring families.

The Chronicles of Narnia series by C. S. Lewis: This series follows a group of siblings and their friends as they fight off an evil ice queen. Lewis set his fantasy novels in both the real world and an alternate dimension. Some critics categorize these novels as part high fantasy, part low fantasy.

The Cosmere works by Brandon Sanderson: The author designed a universe called the Cosmere, and he sets many of his novels and short stories on different planets within this interconnected universe. Notable works in the Cosmere include the Mistborn book series and The Stormlight Archive series.

The Discworld series by Terry Pratchett: Beginning with The Colour of Magic in 1983, the Discworld series comprises more than forty works with various recurring characters and storylines, including a cowardly wizard named Rincewind, a community of witches, and a personified version of death.

The Earthsea Cycle series by Ursula K. Le Guin: Comprising six novels and nine short stories, The Earthsea Cycle follows characters in the fictional land of Earthsea, a series of small islands and archipelagos with different cultures, magic, and beliefs.

The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin: Many readers describe The Fifth Season as a science fantasy book—a combination of science fiction and high fantasy. Set on a supercontinent called the Stillness, N.K. Jemisin’s book features a large caste system with a complex social structure.

The Green Bone Saga by Fonda Lee: Made up of Jade City, Jade War, and Jade Legacy, Lee’s series takes place on a large island called Kekon. When world-building, Lee set out to create a fantasy series that didn’t center itself around tropes of medieval Europe, which has been common to many other high-fantasy stories.

The Lord of the Rings books by J. R. R. Tolkien: Readers and critics consider The Lord of the Rings trilogy to be archetypal Western high fantasy. The trio of books and Tolkien’s prequel, The Hobbit, take place in a fantasy realm called Middle Earth and feature communities of elves, dwarves, wizards, and hobbits.

The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss: The first novel in Rothfuss’s series called The Kingkiller Chronicle chronicles one man’s retelling of his epic life in a fictional world called Temerant.

Source ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs ⚜ Fantasy Fiction Continuum

#fantasy #high fantasy #fiction #writeblr #literature #writers on tumblr #writing reference #dark academia #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #writing inspiration #writing ideas #light academia #john atkinson grimshaw #writing resources

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art-of-vox-machina · 2 years ago

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THE LEGEND OF VOX MACHINA | 2x09 Color Script

By James Batrez

#vox machina #the legend of vox machina #tlovm #critical role #grog strongjaw #color script #character design #key lighting #concept art #production art #animation #titmouse inc.

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yurimother · 2 years ago

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'Puella Magi Madoka Magica -Walpurgisnacht: Rising-' Announces Winter 2024 Debut

On Sunday, at Aniplex Online Fest 2023, Aniplex revealed a new teaser trailer for Puella Magi Madoka Magica The Movie: -Walpurgisnacht Rising- (Mahou Shoujo Madoka★Magica: Walpurgis no Kaiten).

The trailer revealed that the anime film, which continues the Puella Magi Madoka Magica main timeline after the events of the 2013 film Rebellion, will debut theatrically in Japan in Winter 2024.

Aniplex also revealed a new key visual for the film and announced that director Yukihiro Miyamoto, who directed the original 2011 television anime series, its two film adaptation, Rebellion, and spin-off Magia Record is returning for Walpurgisnacht: Rising at SHAFT.

He is joined by the previously revealed staff, including the original creators Magica Quartet, chief director Akiyuki Simbou, writer Gen Urobuchi (Nitroplus), and character designer Aokiume. Additional returning staff includes character animation designer Junichiro Taniguchi, who served as Chief Animation Director on previous projects, parallel world designer Gekidan InuCurry (Doroinu), who created the iconic, unique looks of the Witches Labyrinths, and composer Yuki Kajiura.

All of the original Japanese main voice cast from the series and Rebellion are set to reprise their roles:

Aoi Yuki as Madoka Kaname

Chiwa Saito as Homura Akemi

Kaori Mizuhashi as Mami Tomoe

Eri Kitamura as Sayaka Miki

Ai Nonaka as Kyouko Sakura

Kana Asumi as Nagisa Momoe

Emiri Kato as Kyubey

The anime was originally announced back in 2021, but in 2019 at Anime Expo, Homura's voice actress, Chiwa Saito, foreshadowed the sequel, saying that "the actual series has not ended yet" and that she was looking forward to everyone seeing Devil Homura, a reference to the ending of Rebellion, again.

Puella Magi Madoka Magica aired in 2011 to critical and audience acclaim. It became a cultural phenomenon and spawned two movie adaptations, Beginnings and Eternal, the sequel film Rebellion, and multiple manga and video game spin-offs. It is credited with popularizing mixing dark, postmodern tropes with the magical girl genre.

Source: Aniplex Online Fest 2023, Press Release

#madoka magica #puella magi madoka magica #yuri #anime #news #girls love #lgbt #gay #lgbtq #gl #queer #lesbian #manga #yuri anime #mahou shoujo madoka magica

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mareastrorum · 3 months ago

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As a known villain-enthusiast, I figured I’d write up how I assess them as storytelling devices. Like, whether they’re enjoyable characters is up to taste, but whether they’re good writing requires critical assessment. This is a rather long post, so here is a summary:

Learning how to critique villains is a great way to identify skilled and passionate storytellers. They embody the ideas and decisions that the writer feels are incorrect. While some narrative devices are more subtle (local politics unfolding in the background, color or song cues, scene settings, etc.), villains are dramatic. That is a person designed to be wrong! They intentionally draw the audience’s focus for important steps of the story. When a writer stumbles on that, it reflects poorly on the entire work precisely because of that focus.

This post is going to get into the following key components of an effective villain:

They highlight the wrong conclusion about a key issue in the story.

They should be a symptom of either a larger issue in the narrative or the one they fixate on.

They don't need to be evil, and, in many cases, that label is a hindrance.

As the average age of the target audience and/or the length of the story increases, villains should be more frequently correct in their beliefs and choices.

They evoke strong emotion appropriate to the genre.

They don’t need to be antagonists, and antagonists don’t need to be villains.

They raise the stakes: the world will become worse if they are left unchecked.

Their strengths and weaknesses should be directly tied either to the central theme of the story or their opponent's character arc.

Their ending is consistent with the theme of the story.

If included, a villain redemption arc must have 4 components: (1) an external stimulus causing (2) a choice to deviate from their plan and (3) a corresponding shift in their worldview, and those result in (4) action that matches the strength of their new conviction.

They should not be included in a story if any of the above causes distraction or discordance with the main plot line.

Of course, there’s spoilers to follow, so reader beware.

First, some definitions. These are definitely not perfect, but they're how I keep these narrative issues separated in my own head.

A villain is someone whose wrong actions/beliefs are relevant to the plot/themes. An antagonist is someone who acts in direct conflict with the protagonist. The protagonist is the character that the audience follows in a story. Sometimes villains are protagonists, sometimes they're antagonists, and sometimes they're neither. This post addresses villains regardless of their other roles in a story.

I am intentionally using a vague word like “wrong” in that definition because villains are versatile tools. What is the core message or theme of this story? What is the wrong conclusion? What did the villain get right before they fucked up? At what point did this take a downturn? Can this be fixed before it’s too late? How can it be fixed? A well-designed villain can be used to answer most, if not all, of those questions without any reference to another character. When a villain is included in the story, each of the topics below is a point where the writer should be using that character to bolster the narrative.

Villains highlight the wrong conclusion about a key issue in the story.

The point of a villain is to be a bad example. A job well done requires the author to have a thorough, intimate understanding of the themes, plot, and other characters, and then showcase each of them through that villain.

In other words, the villain cannot be conceived before the protagonist's arc is decided. The author needs to have a plan for the protagonist's character arc and plot because that is going to be the audience's focus for the entire story, and the villain is meant to emphasize a key problem for that character. Even when the villain is the protagonist, their purpose as the protagonist must be determined first before any villainous aspects should be addressed.

That said, villains should be minimized or omitted for any issue that doesn't culminate in a climax. Villains are dramatic: once outed as a villain, the audience will watch everything they do. That level of focus is difficult to match with other narrative devices, so the optimal use is to direct it at key issues. For other topics, antagonists are a better fit (discussed further below). If the writer does not intend to address some core aspect of the story or worldbuilding, then it shouldn't significantly involve the villain.

A poorly done villain often reveals how the author failed to grasp something, either as a concept or in execution. Again, by definition, a villain is someone the author disagrees with. People are usually much better at making themselves and their own opinions look good than they are at portraying people with opposing viewpoints. A skilled storyteller commits to giving villains a good faith dissection rather than merely attacking a strawman.

Of course, more complex stories may warrant the use of minor villains, an ensemble, or a Big Bad Evil Guy standing above the rest. The depth and time spent on each villain should match their overall importance to the main storyline. Perhaps a lesser villain will feature in a particular episode/chapter addressing their connected theme, but they shouldn’t be emphasized by the writer outside of that relevance.

Villains should be a symptom of either a larger issue in the narrative or the one they fixate on.

This is one of the more common flaws that I've encountered. Most villains believe they are solving a problem. A lot of stories fall short of answering, "what is a better conclusion?"

Caveat: this isn’t necessary for all genres. Genres that rely on gaps in understanding don’t need to supply answers. Comedy, horror, short fiction, and any other story focusing entirely on a plot about “stuff went wrong” don’t necessarily benefit from telling the audience what the problem is. Eldritch horror stories, for example, are specifically about encounters that the characters and audience do not understand, but they may still feature villains.

This facet is more noticeable in stories about problems that affect large populations. Whether it's a social heirarchy, a government structure, a natural disaster, resource shortages, etc., it's something that requires more than removing villains from seats of power or ending a plan. The nature of the solution will vary widely, especially across genres, but the writer should be concerned with the exact thing the villain had been.

As an example, in a lot of contemporary stories involving revolutions by lower classes against an oppressive upper class, the key conflict of the story is that the revolutionaries have resorted to an unconscionable option for the sake of success. Whether it's genocide, biological warfare, nuclear escalation, etc., the climax is about stopping a villain from successfully employing that option. However, a solid number of those stories end with the status quo or with minor concessions by the upper class. Each of those is a problem. If they stuck with the status quo, the story is that the oppressed should accept their station, even without hope or promise of improvement. If there were minor concessions, then the message is that drastic threats of violence are necessary for even the smallest concessions. Neither of those is a very satisfying story, and in most cases, neither were the writer's intended takeaway. Unfortunately, that sort of message often gets baked in because the unspoken implication of “don’t resort to these tactics” is “accept your place”—unless an alternative is presented within the story.

Of course, the challenge for these sorts of stories is how to convey a better option without getting on a soapbox in the narration. Villains are an efficient option to challenge the protagonists (or their opponents if they're protagonists) on these issues. “If you're so determined to stop me, then what are you going to do about [XYZ]?” It's a great way to weave in the author's intended message through some exposition or by seeding internal conflict for the protagonist to grapple with after the two separate again. This can even be brought up by other characters in discussions about the villain, without requiring a direct confrontation. Whether the opposition achieves that goal isn’t necessary either; it’s enough to introduce it and start the path toward it, letting the implication become “that’s not happening yet because that would be the next story.”

While stories don’t need to answer every question, ignoring the villain’s concern conveys that the writer doesn’t care about that issue. In that case, why include it as the villain’s motivation? What benefit did that complication bring to the story? Useless or unintended elements should be cut from a story to avoid muddling the themes, and failure to do that with a villain demonstrates subpar storytelling.

Villains don't need to be evil, and, in many cases, that label is a hindrance.

Evil is a moral label. Some stories aren’t concerned with addressing how to be a good person, what should happen to bad people, etc. That is certainly a most common framing for a villain in Western media, but it’s not the only one. Stories don't need to convey a moral to be great.

Sometimes the villain cares deeply for others, is motivated by saving people and doing good, and checks all the boxes for a hero, but the means they resort to are absolutely fucked up. Their arc often involves realizing a terrible act is “necessary” to achieve their desired result, and because they believe that result is worth the travesties, they commit. The audience can debate whether that means the villain is good or evil, but that is beside the point; the problem is that they’re doing something they shouldn’t, regardless of the moral label attached to it. Stories like this often include a message that there aren’t good/bad people, only good/bad acts, which also means that people cannot attain a moral label, and therefore the villain cannot be evil. (The Dune novels are a fantastic example of this.)

Sometimes the villain is someone dedicated to a cause that has long since careened into villainy. Their personal morality doesn’t match with what they do because duty or honor requires them to act this way, and to forsake that obligation is also failure. No matter what they choose, they will be trampling their moral ideals. Pretty much any story about well-meaning military, police, government, or other duty-bound characters following a chain of command after the bad guy takes control is an example of this. Some stories focus on the interpersonal conflict arising out of that, and others stories might focus on the internal cognitive dissonance and psychological fallout of such circumstances. These stories often posit that there is no such thing as pure good, and since everyone must commit evil on some level in the course of pursuing a moral standard, we cannot assess anyone (including the villain) on morality alone. These also tend to be stories that include a redemption arc (discussed below), though they very frequently involve some sort of dramatic sacrifice in the process.

Other stories ignore morality entirely because it just isn’t the point. These villains tend to be more subtle because their presence isn’t as offensive to the audience. Bureaucrats ruthlessly enforcing the rules in spite of unique circumstances, then getting overruled by a superior after a big display by the protagonist, are a fairly common villain trope in media aimed at children and young adults. It does happen in media for adults as well, though most often in comedies (My Cousin Vinny, Ghostbusters) or legal/political/professional dramas. These stories usually criticize overzealous commitment to systems, not because the systems or villains are inherently evil, but because excessive enforcement can unhelpfully inhibit good, health, fun, freedom, etc.

Villains can absolutely be moral/good/neutral people in the author’s perspective, framed as such in a story, and still be the bad guys.

As the average age of the target audience and/or the length of the story increases, villains should be more frequently correct in their beliefs and choices.

This is such a frustrating thing when writers muck it up. As stated, villainy highlights a wrong conclusion. Do you know what would ruin that effect? If they’re wrong about everything.

The thing about highlighting is that it’s only useful when done sparingly or with clear methods of differentiation. Highlighting a single line with one color or multiple lines with different colors can each be effective methods of focusing attention, but highlighting an entire page is a waste of effort. The audience doesn’t know what to look at anymore. The purpose is lost when it's overdone.

So too with a villain. A well-constructed villain needs to get some things right. That is a signal that those aren't the parts the audience should be concerned with. That works both for focusing on themes (if indeed that side issue isn’t important) or as obfuscation for a reveal later on (related to plot, motive, identity, etc.). This wealthy villain pays his taxes without complaint, donates to charity, and tips generously, so the story message isn’t about whether businessmen pay their fair share to government, give back to the people generally, or pays people for their labor. Instead, when the businessman turns out to be a financier of a warlord plotting a coup, we can ignore the question, “should the wealthy use money to help people?” and instead focus on “the harm of using wealth to enable oppression far outweighs any generosity that coincides with it.”

In most media, I prefer main villains to be correct on so many things that, at some point in the story, they would have been capable of swaying me to their position if not for a key theme. That is the gold standard because it points the audience right at the villain’s narrative purpose and explains why no one has managed to stop the villain before this plot line. After all, if a person is tolerable, useful, or personable except for this one thing, then they are likely to have many allies and defenses to prevent anyone from stopping their plans. While not every villain needs that level of honing, it is vital that the villain associated closely to the main theme is the one with the most clarity.

When a villain is wrong about most things, that clarity is lost. That extremism is only expected in children’s fiction, comedy, and short form fiction because those genres usually don’t explore any other facets of the villain anyway—the audience rarely gets a comprehensive look at that character. A villain is a portrayal of a person, and people are complex. Any longer forms of media require more time spent with the villain, and a two-dimensional character doesn't hold up well in those circumstances. When an author decides to structure a villain who is incorrect at every step of a story, there is meaning there: this villain is intended as an extreme example of everything the author dislikes. This story is intended to be propaganda.

Propaganda invites heavier criticism: What ethnicity did the author choose for this representation of someone getting everything wrong? What gender? What sexuality? What nationality? Social or economic class? Level of education? How does that compare to their opposition? If there’s someone who does everything right, what differences are there between that one and the villain? Those choices are just as intentional as the decision to frame the villain as so egregiously wrong about everything. Writers don’t get to pretend such decisions are meaningless. More often than not, when this happens, the writer's bigoted views are put on display. The villain absolutely did its job, so it's not an ineffective villain: it told me what the writer disapproves of and that the theme of the story is that type of person is inferior. It just turns out that now I have an entirely separate reason to dislike this writer and their works.

Villains evoke strong emotion appropriate to the genre.

I expect that most discussions about villains will include something about making that character entertaining or fun, but that isn’t quite the right mark. A proper villain is evocative in a way that matches the genre. There’s a lot of flexibility in this, so entertainment value is a safe bet. Some stories need a villain that raises tension in every scene, and others just need a laid back asshole to quip at the hero and be an obstacle. That said, sometimes a villain would be better if they aren’t fun.

For example, in Pan’s Labyrinth, Captain Vidal (played by a well known Spanish comedian who had never previously ventured outside of comedy) in fascist Spain confronts a potential spy who claims that he was hunting rabbits with his son. Indeed, the man was carrying a weapon and a bag of supplies, and he has a younger man with him. Until that point, the Captain had been presented as extremely strict and hierarchical in every facet of his life, even with his new wife, but not necessarily bad. In full view of the man’s son, the Captain personally kills the hunter, declares him to be a traitor to Spain, then discovers the dead rabbits in the pack and ignores that he may have been wrong. The son is taken away without apology or aid—not even the food and supplies they had been carrying. Any audience expectation of mercy is shunted out the window because fascism involves seeing common people as either resources or threats, and nothing else. It’s a brutal, terrifying way to establish Captain Vidal’s role, that this character will not be fun or comedic, and what type of story the film will entail. We know without a shadow of doubt that if Captain Vidal discovers what the child protagonist has been up to, he will kill her. He would kill that little girl without remorse for the slightest infraction against his control. An unavoidable dread surrounds Captain Vidal’s presence through every subsequent scene, even when he isn’t shown on screen. That brought the terror of fascism to a personal level in a horrifically efficient manner. Excellent use of a villain.

Because the core purpose of a villain is to highlight aspects of a story, stoking the audience’s emotion is a surefire way to guarantee everyone is paying attention. The most commonly used options are anger (unjust acts), disgust (socially unacceptable traits), and fear (unflinching violence). Regardless of which emotion it is, it should be something either unexpected or more extreme than encountered otherwise. These cues should be in contrast to the emotions evoked by positive developments. If the rest of the mood of the story is somber, inappropriate lightheartedness is an excellent contrast. If the rest of the story is tense action, an eerie calm is incredibly upsetting. There are many options for creating a discordant tone, and doing so not only emphasizes that this villain is wrong somehow, but also ensures that any dialogue or narration in that scene carries that same sense of wrongness.

Obviously, some stories involve villain reveals, so those high-intensity scenes shouldn’t occur until the right moment. In those instances, the method and circumstances of the reveal are a great vehicle to emphasize the villain’s narrative purpose, especially when done close to or during the story’s climax. That said, a shocked audience may have difficulty parsing complicated dialogue; sticking to a simple, overarching topic is a much better option for those particular circumstances. That’s why a villain monologue is such a common trope: it works.

When this sort of emotional turmoil is absent, I get the sense that the writer doesn’t know how to structure a scene to reinforce themes. This sort of narrative device isn’t necessary for every villain scene, but if only one scene in an entire story were to stoke the audience’s feelings, it should be the scene where the villain’s conclusion is front and center. Denouements and moments of triumph also obviously warrant strong emotional responses, but I prioritize the villain for a simple reason: why would anyone add a villain to a story if they weren’t going to demand the audience’s attention? If that type of scene takes away from the story’s purpose, then the villain does too, and they should be removed.

Villains don't need to be antagonists, and antagonists don’t need to be villains.

This might seem contradictory to the preceding points, but the fact is that protagonists cannot be expected to fix every problem they encounter.

Villains are supposed to reach the wrong conclusion about something core to the theme or plot. Antagonists are just people who work against the protagonist. For a lawyerly analogue, my opposing counsel is the antagonist (working against me, a plaintiff litigator) and their client is the villain (that fucker did Wrong, even if they never interact with me and haven’t done anything since). The lawyer isn’t wrong for simply being on that side; they’re doing their job, and their job is to be in my way. I’m not right for simply being on my side; I’m just the one telling the story. When assessing a villain and protagonist, we look at both characters in those conflicts. In comparison, an any conflict with a non-villain antagonist is entirely focused on the protagonist; the antagonist’s values, beliefs, etc. don’t really matter.

All that said, villains are usually antagonists. It’s a very efficient way to structure a story, so it is a preferred option for shorter or simpler narratives. That isn't a flaw. It's a completely valid way to handle these roles. Whether the villain should or shouldn't be an antagonist depends on the themes. Is a person versus person conflict necessary to resolve the problem that the villain is highlighting?

For example, if the key theme is about the catastrophic damage caused by climate change, a direct conflict with the villain could distract from that. Many disaster movies focusing on climate change feature villains that ignore or exploit it, and rather than meet their end through conflict with the protagonists, they usually end up ruining themselves. That makes sense given that climate change is a phenomenon that cannot be stopped by an individual and that it doesn't discriminate as to who is affected. There's plenty of other themes where similar story structures are more effective than the protagonist causing the villain's downfall. Those stories don't benefit from direct conflicts with the villain, but that character added to the narrative regardless.

Sometimes a character is necessary for the protagonists to have a concrete victory at a certain point in the story, but there’s no thematic conclusion yet. Villains would distract from that, but antagonists wouldn’t. For example, a middle point in the story has the culmination of a coming of age arc for a main character, but the final conflict is still on the horizon: a sports competitor has to end their growth arc by winning at regionals before shifting to the main rising action involved in going to nationals. Introducing a local rival with no significant bad qualities would allow the audience to focus on the protagonist’s growth, and the villain in the later arc doesn’t lose any presence or effect by having a predecessor.

All that said, some characters shift over time, especially in serial media. An antagonist of the week in a superhero comic might be the dastardly Big Bad villain in a special release and then back to a background problem in the next. Villains should only be used to extent that they will help the audience understand the full scope of the themes. Regardless of genre (except maybe satire/parody), the villain shouldn’t be causing problems “on screen” beyond the scope of their purpose, so unless the dramatic brawl between villain and hero adds something other than cool visuals, antagonism is just wasted time.

Villains raise the stakes: the world will be worse if they are left unchecked.

Any villain that fails to raise the stakes is an example of poor writing. Why should the audience care about a villain if there is nothing to lose should they succeed? It is a complete failure to use such a dramatic narrative device to highlight a non-problem. Even if a villain is not an antagonist, they need to be a threat.

In order to achieve that, the villain needs to have strengths necessary to achieve their goal. When villains don't have a skill or a resources necessary for their plan, there should be a relatively straightforward method for them to fill that gap. For example, a warmongering monarch might lack the manpower from her own lands to continue conquering neighbors, so she has her army conscript soldiers from annexed territories to put on the front lines. Of course, these power gaps are also excellent points for conflict with the opposition, and that can be worked into the plot. By shaping the villain into a formidable power in the world, the protagonist (or their faction, allies, etc.) has to step up and find a solution to the plot problem before the villain ruins everything. It adds time pressure to the protagonist’s goals and allows for logical opportunities to foil the villain’s plans.

When the villain is incompetent, that tension is lost. Within the story itself, of all the possible characters in this made up world, this was the one the writer focused on. Why hasn’t someone already stopped them, and why should the audience care what they’re up to? Why is the writer wasting the protagonist’s time on this character? That reflects poorly on the story because that conveys that there’s not a real a risk of failure or a bad ending; if there was, the writer should have focused on that instead! So, why include the villain at all?

Unless the story is parody, nothing is as disappointing as a story where a villain succeeds or fails because of something stupid. It can be funny, it can be an oversight or mistake or gap in knowledge, but it should never be because of stupidity. That tells me that the writer couldn’t up with something clever because they’re stupid—they used a complex narrative device without thinking it through—and they expect me (a member of the audience) to applaud. Absolutely not.

Villains' strengths and weaknesses should be directly tied either to the central theme of the story or their opponent's character arc.

Building off the last point, a villain should be competent in a narratively convenient way and have convenient weaknesses. In many story structures, a villain antagonist is a wonderfully efficient option for the protagonist hero to grapple with a key character development or plot climax. The best villains are those whose weaknesses are ones that the protagonist is capable of exploiting; it helps establish the protagonist as an appropriate perspective for this story. However, that logic needs to work both in the direction in which it was planned, and backwards from the opposite view.

First, the writer needs to choose a villain that suits the protagonist and the plot. I’ve lined out plenty of reasons for that above, but in short, the villain should be actively engaging in behavior or building to a turning point that will impact the ending that the protagonist desires. It doesn’t need to impact the protagonist directly, but there must be a clear motivation to interfere with the villain’s plan. Thus, the villain’s strengths should be relevant to the theme or opponent’s arc—it’d be a waste of opportunity otherwise.

Once the protagonist’s needs are established, the writer needs to change perspective: the villain needs to make sense within the narrative whether the protagonist does anything or not. Generally speaking, any person would prefer a plan with requirements they would not struggle to complete. People like to do things they’re good at. A mad scientist is going to prefer mad science over politics. A corrupt politician is going to prefer bribery over a ray gun. If the plot demands a particular course of action, the villain should be designed to be someone who prefers that method and is damn good at it. Even in situations where a villain is forced to resort to something they don’t excel in, there should be a logical explanation for how this arrangement came about. Failure to achieve this breaks immersion.

The difficult part of discussing this facet is that it is the most versatile aspect of villain characterization, so there aren’t any rigid requirements. I wouldn’t even go so far as to say that a villain should be a foil because that limits them to mirroring a specific character. They don’t need to be foils! Sometimes, a villain should be bigger than that: Sauron in The Lord of the Rings trilogy could be compared to numerous protagonists, but he is not a direct foil of one, while lesser villains (Denethor, Steward of Gondor) in the books are.

For a vague example, let's say I want to write a story about a slave who is leading a revolution. The obvious themes would be the necessity of violence to wrest freedom from oppressors, that legal systems are always biased in favor of those already in power, that most people will accept oppression of others for the sake of economic benefit, and so on. There are many potential villains, but the best ones would be the owner, the lawman (chief of police, sheriff, judge, etc.), and/or the head of government (mayor, governor, etc.). Regardless of which one I choose, their respective strengths (color of law, weaponry, support of the ruling class) will require the protagonist to address his own weaknesses (lack of legal authority, resources, and social capital), which gives the plot shape. Those are the parts that will be addressed in the rising action of the story. In addition, the villain's weaknesses (over-reliance on demoralized slaves, personal immorality, bigotry, cruelty, apathy, etc.) each give options for what strengths to give the protagonist. Perhaps the protagonist's unfailing courage and camaraderie stokes the other slaves' will to resist and fight back, and it becomes a story about greater numbers overcoming the villain's strengths. Another option is that the protagonist stoops just as low and has no moral or social high ground, and the point of the story is that freedom should be achieved by any means necessary by anyone willing to fight for it. Yet another option is that the protagonist makes contact with a third-party, and they cooperate to overthrow the villains, because the villains' institution of slavery could not be tolerated by anyone with an unbiased view (outsiders with no stake in it). Whichever possibility is chosen, the strengths/weaknesses of the villains put a tint on the overall message: the owner would focus the story on individuals and allow for more intimate exchanges between characters, the lawman would be more of a philosophical story with impersonal distance, and the head of government would focus on social values and how to change the will of other people. I need to choose the villain that allows me to explore my preferred protagonist arc, and I need to choose the plot line that matches well with that conflict.

But that’s a bit cerebral. A simpler example: Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. He’s sexist, only wants Belle because she’s the prettiest girl in the village, and his ego demands the best of everything. There’s literally nothing else he finds attractive about her. He’s charismatic and appeals to the toxic masculinity culture of the town. He does not value intelligence or kindness, so many potential options for getting what he wants are closed to him. In the climactic conflict, Gaston whips the town into a mob by using his charisma to deceive them, has Belle and her father imprisoned in their own home, and goes to kill the Beast so that he can claim the mantle of hero and Belle for himself. Belle uses her intelligence to improvise an escape, and her kindness spurs the Beast out of inaction after it was established that nothing else had ever swayed his heart. While there may be other things to criticize in this story, Gaston is an excellent example of making strengths and weaknesses relevant to plot, themes, and other characters. Everything he did was as bad as, if not worse than, the Beast, his conflict with Belle allowed her agency and traits to shine, and his devotion to violence and ego caused his own death rather than Belle resorting to his methods.

When that doesn't happen, it feels like a plot hole. Why hype up a villain to excel at worming his way into powerful social circles and then he never attempts to manipulate anyone in any scenes? Why make a villain so egotistical as to ignore security flaws in a key scene and then never have anyone take advantage? I’m not talking about trope subversion; I mean when a strength/weakness is added and then ignored. It's such an intrinsic part of the process for constructing a villain that failing to flesh it out demonstrates poor writing skills.

The villain’s ending is consistent with the theme of the story.

I truly do not care if villains get “what they deserve” in a story. Can it be satisfying to see villains contribute to their own failure? Yes, but they don’t deserve anything. They’re not real. Even if they were, people don’t deserve anything. You can’t earn an ending. The world doesn’t work that way, stories don’t work that way, and that line of thinking isn’t interesting. Catharsis is not about a character getting what the audience thinks they should, it’s about evoking emotional satisfaction, and limiting that assessment to whether characters get what they “deserve” is narrow-minded.

Because stories are not real, everything is on the table. The writer can do whatever they want to every single character. The most important issue is whether the outcome makes sense for what issue the villain was highlighting.

For example, if the villain is meant to be a focal point of corruption in a government structure, and the highlighted problem is that this person was tolerated by others because of the benefits they provided, deposing only that villain doesn't really fix anything. The people that let this happen are still there, and they'll find another person to do it the same way. Instead, a better resolution would be to turn that villain against their enablers, whether by threat or force or agreement. Maybe the villain is willing to testify against co-conspirators in exchange for a lenient sentence in a court of law. By definition, leniency means that the villain does not receive a fair punishment, but the problem is resolved and won't happen again. That demonstrates that the writer actually understands the issue they chose to address and that they're telling a story about a solution to a problem rather than fulfilling a base desire for punishment.

Of course, sometimes a key point of the story is wish fulfillment for punishment. The Count of Monte Cristo is probably the best revenge story ever written, with every single villain getting their comeuppance due the machinations of the wronged protagonist after returning from imprisonment and exile. Even better, the protagonist orchestrated the events so that each villain ultimately causes their own end through willful greed, ego, and cruelty. However, the key question is whether or not the protagonist is a villain too: at what point will he stop? When is it no longer justice? What about innocent bystanders? When faced with the decision whether to legally kill the only son of both his hated enemy and his former lover, Edmond Dantes finally decides to stop. This differentiates him from the villains, and the story allows the audience to determine whether to attribute it to morality, love, duty, etc. The story includes wish fulfillment because the ongoing audience consideration is “How many more times are you going to wish for this?” It felt good, it felt just, they “deserved” it, the world was better for it, but the point was that Dantes had other needs that he was ignoring by focusing solely on revenge. A core theme was that a desire for revenge is not inherently wrong—it springs from injustice and a desire for equitable results—but it isn’t the right answer to every problem. The villains’ ends fit in perfectly for the characters individually, the themes of the story, and the cultural backdrop of France before, during, and after the tumult of the Napoleonic wars.

Further, sometimes the “end” is just a pause. Many serials need the villain to remain a threat for future use, so that thread is left unresolved. This isn’t necessarily poor writing. However, those villains shouldn’t be intricately tied to a theme that requires a definitive resolution by the end of that phase. This type of arrangement requires extra planning because bringing back the villain will evoke those old themes, so either reviving the question or tying it into a new one is vital to a good story.

A proper villain redemption arc always has the same core message: people can change. It has absolutely nothing to do with earning anything because change comes from within; as soon as external approval comes into play, it’s no longer about change, it’s about relationships. The quality of a redemption arc has nothing to do with anyone other than the person being redeemed. If this type of arc doesn’t suit the story, it should not be included.

The four points listed above are necessary because they tie the villain’s arc to the plot. Why is the villain changing during this story? What does the writer believe is needed to correct course? Does the writer actually believe that people can change?

The external stimulus is necessary because of the above point that the villain should make things worse if left unchecked. That check doesn’t necessarily need to be the protagonist, an opponent, or even a character; it could be a sudden change in circumstances, like war breaking out or a new faction coming into play. Maybe the villain achieves their goal and something goes horribly wrong. Regardless of the specifics, the cause should something other than internal rumination. A villain coming to a sudden epiphany in a moment of daydreaming is too convenient, to the point that it lacks any dramatic effect. That tells me the writer doesn’t actually understand why the villain would choose this course of action in the first place. Demonstrating what would shake them out of it is not easy, but it is vital to a proper redemption arc. Something new needs to break the villain’s intentions apart.

The next two parts can happen in any order: shifting perspective first and then a choice, or choice first while ideas solidify, or both at the same time. Maybe there’s multiple steps along the way for each. Any of those can be believable.

The shift in perspective means that the villain understands that they had made the wrong choice. Whatever the new problem is, they couldn’t stop it, can’t fix it, or need something they had discarded, and the reason for that deficiency is their current course of action. The new development is undeniable proof that they were going to fail or already had failed. They don’t need to accept this psychological change immediately—the timing and fallout should match the genre—but it should happen in response to that external stimulus. In addition, even if they grapple with it as the story progresses, the villain should not fall back into old ways over minor problems. They can ruminate or even obsess over inconsequential issues, but actions should be taken only for something significant.

Once the dramatic revelation has occurred, the villain needs to have agency for how to deal with this dilemma. Maybe the story even involves the villain fighting for that agency before they exercise it, and that may happen in tandem with coming to terms with their shattered perspective. There should be at least one moment (perhaps several) where the villain has the opportunity to revert to their original plan or take a new path. That said, making such a choice under threat of death or harm isn’t very effective. Choice also requires more than one option, so I don’t find “you’re going to die anyway” circumstances to be powerful redemption arcs. They can be suitable for tragedies, but they carry the implication that villains have to face death before they will change, which is not going to mesh well with many themes absent some other redemption arcs in the same story to compare it to.

Finally, there needs to be action that matches both the villain’s new beliefs and the theme of the story, and the scale needs to be appropriately comparable to the villain’s prior intentions. Maybe the villain drains hoarded resources to support the protagonist’s gambit, emphasizing the need to collaborate with and trust in others. Maybe the villain becomes a double-agent and sabotages the corrupt empire from within, demonstrating that good is not served by people refusing to engage with an ongoing problem. Maybe the villain redesigns their ray gun to kill cancer cells, so the message is that technology is only as harmful as the people using it. Whatever they do, the villain’s redemption arc will be just as important to the audience as the protagonist’s arc. They need to make an impact worthy of that effect.

I’ll also note what I omit from this: emotion, forgiveness, and justice. Emotions are irrational, so I don’t buy into the idea that any character needs to experience a specific kind of emotion for a certain kind of arc or story to be high quality. Choices do not require emotional congruence. As for forgiveness and justice, redemption comes from within, and these two facets require input from other characters or social groups. Redemption does not need someone else’s permission or validation. While these three things can certainly add to a redemption arc—and I’m sure people have preferences—they are not necessary aspects. It is entirely possible to construct a quality redemption story without them.

Schindler’s List is essentially a villain redemption story: Oskar Schindler (the protagonist) was a businessman who joined and benefited from the rise of the Nazi Party. He held fascist leaning ideals (people as resources, efficiency and profit over all else, etc.) and bribed officials to get his way, but he wasn’t overtly cruel. His experiences with the Jews forced to work for him gradually changed his perspective, and he took small steps to make their lives easier or safer—against the wishes of the Nazi government. Eventually, he reached the point that he decided to engage in treason to try to save as many as he could, not only spending his ill-gotten fortune on selfless bribes, but also risking his own life, freedom, and station. There are several scenes that emphasize what would be done to him if his plots were discovered. Schindler ultimately saves hundreds of Jews and is not destroyed for it. Those he saved even work to protect him from the consequences of his past deeds. But his final scene shows that Schindler is crushed by his own conscience and laments that he could have done more. He was introduced as an apathetic, greedy villain, and his gradual change to a man genuinely heartbroken by the genocide and remorseful for his participation was well-paced and cathartic. In particular, his role as a villain (a “bystander” profiting from genocide) contrasted well with his later choices (sacrificing his fortune to save those he exploited).

In addition, the villain switching sides does not mean that it’s intended as a redemption arc. Hans Landa in Inglorious Basterds absolutely betrayed the Nazis, but he did it to save his own hide and talked his way into a rather comfortable retirement over it. There was no internal crisis, no new belief system. Landa simply realized that he had a better chance at a preferred future, so he remorselessly served up people to be killed, just like in the opening scene. Nothing had changed. That worked wonderfully in a film about stopping violence with violence and the emotional dissatisfaction of letting vile people live after they had terrorized and slaughtered innocent people. So the protagonists carved a swastika into Landa’s forehead as a warning of who he was. Is any of that good? That isn’t even the right question for a Tarantino film, but again, it was not intended as a redemption arc; it was very clearly intended to mean that some people don’t change and we may have to let them live anyway.

Redemption arcs don’t suit every story or villain. They take a lot of narrative focus to pull off well, and many of the thematic implications can be handled in a protagonist’s arc anyway. A lot of writers tend to fuck up by making the protagonist’s forgiveness or approval a necessary part of the story, ignoring that they’ve then added a message that change is only legitimate when recognized by others. (Note: Schindler’s List dodges this because Schindler denies himself the catharsis of forgiveness.) That said, many audiences like that message. They like the idea that their permission is needed for a bad person to change. I have a strong aversion to that mentality, especially when it conflicts with other themes in the story.

Is the writer telling a story about redemption, or is it about a religious concept of sin and atonement? Forgiveness and acceptance? Is this really about change, or is it about punishing people who hurt your favorites? Change is something we do, and there is value in that even when there is no atonement, forgiveness, or punishment waiting at the end.

Villains should not be included in a story if any of the above causes distraction or discordance with the main plot line.

Villains aren’t necessary for every story. If you want to go with conflict structures, a person vs. world or person vs. self story doesn’t need a villain. Villains can be added to those stories, but they need to represent something about the world/self for that to make sense. They are too dramatic and time-consuming to toss in as an afterthought. If there is nothing else you take from this post, take this: if a villain doesn’t add substance to your story, don’t include one.

I can tell when the writer is just checking boxes. None of these things can be done well without a certain level of affection for both the art of storytelling and the story being told. It’s not even difficult; it just takes effort. There’s an incredible amount of stories out there to engage with, and I’m never going be pleased to put up with a writer’s checklist villain.

Write what you want, and if you don’t want to include a narrative device that requires effort, then don’t.

#villains #writing #this initial post is pretty generic but I’ll probably do some follow up breakdowns of CR and D20 villains #maybe other media sources but this blog is mostly those two

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bunmurdock · 11 days ago

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@bunmurdock's review: daredevil: born again, ep 1–2

haiiii. this review is long as fuck and will contain a lot of critical analysis and inevitably some unwell, thirsty ramblings. you have been warned.

tl;dr

overall rating (so far): 8/10

storytelling & writing: 8/10

acting: 10/10

directing: 7/10

cinematography: 8/10

editing & pacing: 7/10

production design: 7/10

soundtrack & score: 7/10

special effects: 6/10

horny-inducing factor: 8/10

preface

my overall thoughts going into daredevil: born again were cautious optimism, as is the case with most people. however, early critic reviews seemed to be largely positive, and i trusted a lot of the voices that praised it. so i went in basically strapped in, ready for a good time 😎

the four things i wanted more than anything in ddba were:

does it feel like netflix’s daredevil? 6.5/10 – the essence is there, but tonal shifts keep it from fully hitting.

matt has an enneagram one character arc? 9/10 – he’s still wrestling with morality, responsibility, and self-imposed burdens. the cracks in his facade are showing. it’s shaping up to be.

fisk as a well-written deuteragonist and villain? 8/10 – still formidable, still terrifying, but i need more. a story is only as good as its villain.

is this a true continuation? 6/10 – soft reboot energy. some things land, others feel rewritten.

verdict: imo, for the most part, yes, it is delivering on these four so far to a sufficient extent.

overall thoughts

ddba is hitting harder than expected. i was ready to get a bad taste in my mouth, but these first two episodes have convinced me—this could be something special.

the writing is strong, the tone is dark, and the stakes feel real. what i really appreciate is that the show isn’t just doing a victory lap on past seasons. it’s taking born again to heart, pushing forward, making bolder choices, and testing how far matt can be stretched before he breaks—all through the thematic lens of grief. this is new, it's refreshing.

foggy’s death set the tone immediately: nobody is safe. the way they handle grief is raw and uncomfortable, not over-dramatized. something i really appreciate—maybe i’m alone in this—is that the stakes feel real and death feels permanent. matt isn’t breaking down, he’s functional. but if you really pay attention, he's barely holding it together.

the newton brothers’ score is different, but it works. it feels more experimental, more emotional at times. i still miss john paesano, but i’m starting to trust the vision.

i have some minor gripes and adjustments i’d like to see, but nothing that fundamentally shakes my faith in the series. is it gut-wrenching? absolutely. is it well-written? so far, soft yes, imo. it’s ambitious. some modern choices—modern setting, cgi, dialogue, color grading, camera work—will take getting used to, but the foundation feels strong and promising to me.

but first… horny ramblings:

my top three favorite horny scenes. matt murdock please.

the disapproving cane tap. truly, nothing makes me more insane than when matt is morally indignant. his ethical rigidity is sexy. his displeasure? sexy. fic incoming.

competent lawyer!matt. e.g. confronting ayala in the prison, getting judge jerry on his side with a smirk. daddy! (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥)

episode 2 final scene: the smirk? playing the blind card? the brutal beat-down? the tense build-up to the yell? fucking bashing my head against the wall. i h8 him so much.

bonus: date night flirting with heather. sorry, but bury me alive.

foggy’s death

yeah. so.

i spent those four minutes with my mouth hanging open in abject horror. foggy’s death was brutal. left no room for ambiguity. i knew it was coming, i braced for it, and it still knocked the wind out of me. that’s a testament to how well it was executed.

the newton brothers’ score in this scene with the sharp strings and ominous key elevating doom and disbelief? unreal. deborah and charlie’s acting? bloodcurdling horrific in its realism. this kind of darkness is one that tbh puts the darkness of season three to shame, and tbh, the writer in me relished that.

the four-minute fight scene was visceral, fast, and unceremonious—exactly how real violence happens. no last words, no goodbye.

i'm personally so excited to see how foggy’s death launches matt into uncharted territory—an even darker, more isolated version of himself.

and karen. my girl karen :( she has been through so much at this point, i would be surprised if she doesn’t have ptsd. the moment bullseye’s body falls from the rooftop, she thinks it’s matt. you can see the horror on her face—for a second, she genuinely believed she was about to lose both of her best friends in one night. that’s a level of trauma you don’t just shake off. no wonder she left new york.

one thing that i didn't get: why did bullseye target foggy all these years later? maybe we’ll get more clarity later, but right now, it feels like he was just taken out for the sake of setting the stakes rather than for a clear in-universe reason. that being said, it’s still miles better than what the previous writing team had planned which were off-screen deaths for both foggy and karen.

and here’s where i get controversial: if dario scardapane is a good showrunner, he won’t retcon this. he won’t cave to pressure and bring foggy back through some silly deus ex machina. if he does bring him back, it has to be through something incredibly creative and realistic—not some cheap reversal. i need foggy’s death to mean something and not just be shock value.

if you see me being horny about matt murdock, it’s partially copium for foggy. i don’t wanna think about him being gone. what the fuck.

matt’s grief & "new life"

“one year later” transition was a goddamn sucker-punch. this fucking shit. THIS FUCKING SHIT. this hurt more than anything else. in all of daredevil, bar none.

the funeral pamphlet he carries around is devastating. to me, it suggests foggy's death is final but he lives on in matt's heart.

new apartment is an upgrade—less rundown, more cozy—but still keeps some of that neon-lit aesthetic, which i appreciated. (also got confirmation of his old apartment's location: 8th & 37th! i was just strolling around penn station last week omg)

one thing i really wanted from ddba was to learn more about matt’s life outside of law and vigilantism. and yes! we got some shots of him cooking and listening to vinyls.

the songs he listens to: into my arms by nick cave and i looked all over town by the magnetic fields. this tells me matt prefers somewhat melancholic, poetic songwriting. introspective, existential themes. aka, he’s still deeply grieving and in denial, just trying to push forward.

matt’s new law firm with kirsten mcduffie is refreshing and his competence as a boss is so fucking attractive i need a fucking paper bag. tmi and i will regret this later: i literally shed all my clothes after episode one and watched episode two erm. with a woeful lack of clothes bouncing around my apartment i live alone in my own apartment where i pay my own rent leave me alone sob

i love seeing a more lighthearted, competent, joking matt. but it definitely reads to me as a front. the way i interpret it is that he is trying to live the life foggy would have wanted for him.

heather is smart and likable so far, and i want them to succeed.

but imo, matt’s just barely keeping it together. the cracks are showing.

dex’s trial & karen’s departure

karen leaving for san francisco after matt emotionally abandoned her post-foggy’s death broke me. matt probably hated himself immediately after the tragedy, probably spiraled so badly that he was incapable of letting in the one person who was going through the same experience as him. it makes perfect sense, and yet, it still hurts. the way she’s dodgy and distant now—i didn't initially get it, but maybe that’s the point. maybe this is just what real grief looks like. it’s not dramatic—it’s uncomfortable, isolating, and mundane. grief is messy. not every tragedy binds people together; sometimes, it just breaks them apart.

one line that hit me hard: "i refuse to believe that a tragedy had to destroy everything." to me, this is three-act story structure's “theme stated” moment, and the rest of the season will answer that question. matt is fighting so hard to hold onto what little is left, but based on everything i've heard from interviews and leaks, the season will center on theme of “loss and a family rebuilding”—a phrase that’s been mentioned repeatedly. personally, i think it's not a matter of if, but when (and how).

personally? i still want matt & karen as endgame. most of matt’s relationships are quick and passionate and burn out fast. but matt and karen to me really have the potential to be a slow-burn, complex relationship that is built on history and trust. something that stays—survives—through the thick and thin. that would be different. that could feel earned, and super satisfying for a finale.

intro sequence

the intro sequence is stunning... new york crumbling, daredevil being rebuilt. it has that arcane/got premium feel.

the symbolism is brilliant. matt’s world turning to stone reflecting grief... the cracking facades of lady justice, the police, and the church represent the institutions he once trusted, now fracturing. new york falling apart, daredevil being rebuilt...

the newton brothers’ score is another win, tbh. i admit i grieved john paesano not being invited back, but their soundtrack is shaping up to be just as strong as his. it’s more experimental, less rock, not as instantly iconic as the original soundtrack, but it amplifies emotion so well.

cinematography & visual storytelling

imo, one of the strongest elements this season is how they’re pushing the envelope on showing matt’s perspective! the aspect ratio slowly widening, the fisheye lens... they’re taking more risks with the camera work, and i’m obsessed with it. it’s subtle, but it pushes the envelope in ways the netflix show never did.

the color grading is a sigh of relief to me because i thought it might have become an afterthought. red light on matt, white light on fisk—it’s such a simple but effective way to show how they’re constantly teetering between identities.

then there’s the visual storytelling. fisk being framed with a halo in his reflection a la jesus and mary, but the inversion within a reflection completely flipping that reading? i thought it was such a brilliant visual shot.

the surrounding artwork in fisk and vanessa’s scenes is just as intentional. i went to art school, so i found myself researching certain paintings...

the nightmare by henry fuseli: it shows a woman in white (like vanessa) being weighed down by a demon. it’s an obvious parallel to vanessa’s internal struggle, her own fight with what she’s become.

ivan the terrible cradling st. basil; this is the one that really stands out. st. basil was a man of the people, dedicated to charity and moral righteousness. ivan the terrible was a brutal ruler who, despite his cruelty, carried basil’s body to the cathedral out of respect. IF THAT'S NOT FORESHADOWING I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS.

and then there’s the statue of an incomplete woman behind vanessa. that, to me, is her identity in a single image. she’s always been shaped by wilson’s choices rather than her own. it’s such a fantastic visual storytelling.

gripes

okay minor gripe time.

so... the modern setting might be my biggest adjustment. it feels… too polished. slicker, more cinematic, and less raw than seasons 1–3. i miss elements from the old show… which had this gritty, crime-noir grime, an unpolished, lived-in energy that made hell’s kitchen feel real. this version feels more like high-budget prestige drama, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it loses some of that rough, intense edge that made the original feel so distinct. still dark, still serious, but different. not a dealbreaker for me, but definitely will take getting used to.

final thoughts

all in all i am humbly eating my words from a previous post that i made that was hyper critical. boy, thank god did these pilots end up feeling better than expected. bravo, dario & marvel television.

if this momentum holds, we’re in for something really special. early reviews say it might not reach the heights of seasons 1 or 3, but it’s better than season 2. if that’s the case, i’m all in.

if you made it this far, i love you. dm me and you may or may not receive a horny matt murdock surprise. it’s something i will never post but will share with a select few.

#daredevil: born again #daredevil born again #daredevil #matt murdock #ddba spoilers #bun’s

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daughterofheartshaven · 3 months ago

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A Virgin New Adventures reading guide

I told @gotyouanyway that I'd give them my reading guide for the Virgin New adventures that I made for a friend a while back and posting it publicly was easy and also means other people can use this too. I wrote this back in 2021, but stand by it from what I remember. It has been like 5-6 years since I read some of these books, so if I rated your favorite too low lemme know and I'll give it a re-read.

This might not be that helpful if you want to pick just a few books - I designed it more to streamline VNA experiance

The key:

1 - I'd recommend skipping

2 - Eh. You can skip, but there is at least something to be gained by reading it

3 - I would recommend reading this. It's not plot-critical, but it is a good read or useful setup

4 - Read this for sure. It's either plot-relevant, or just that damn good (or both).

Timewyrm: Genesys - 4 (introduces the timewyrm and the series; unfortunately it's also not great.)

Timewyrm: Exodus - 3 (continues the timewyrm story, and is a fairly straightforward but interesting story)

Timewyrm: Apocalypse - 2 (eh. Not much for or against it either way)

Timewyrm: Revelation - 4 (concludes the timewyrm arc with style)

Cat's Cradle: Time's Crucible - 3 (Good if you can wrap you head around it)

Cat's Cradle: Warhead - 2 (depressing as all get out, but very well written)

Cat's Cradle: Witch Mark - 3 (just plain weird. Does finish the current arc and sets up Return of the Living Dad)

Nightshade - 2 (kinda weird. Notable as the first Mark Gatiss story)

Love and War - 4 (plot-relevant. Also awesome)

Transit -4 (Introduces important recurring character. Hard to follow but really good even if you can't follow it)

The Highest Science - 3 (good story, but ultimately not amazingly important)

The Pit - 1 (I did not enjoy)

Deceit - 4 (Not a great read, but important to the plot)

Lucifer Rising - 4 (Amazing, with important character development for our protagonists)

White Darkness - 2 (first David A. McIntee novel, but not especially gripping)

Shadowmind - 3 (good demonstration of where Ace and Benny are as characters, vaguely interesting plot)

Birthright - 3 (good character piece for Ace and Benny, shows a darker side to the Doctor without being dumb about it)

Iceberg - 2 (plot is messy and weird. Only read if you need the Doctor's half of the story from Birthright)

Blood Heat - 4 (starts alternate universe arc, important developments for the Tardis)

The Dimension Riders - 2 (gonna be honest here - I don't remember a thing about this one either way)

The Left-Handed Hummingbird - 3 (first Kate Orman novel. Pretty good, although a little weird and hard to follow)

Conundrum - 3 (Be prepared for weirdness. And superheroes. Helps setup for No Future and Head Games)

No Future - 4 (concludes the alternate universe arc with style, establishes Ace from here on out)

Tragedy Day - 3 (dark, but good. Worth a read)

Legacy - 3 (Kinda dark, but it works. Be prepared for over-continuity)

Theatre of War - 4 (Pulls off one of the best plot twists I've seen anywhere, and introduces Braxieatel to the Whoniverse)

All-Consuming Fire - 4 (Not plot-relevent at all, but is very good, especially if you are a Sherlock Holmes fan)

Blood Harvest - 4 (Major plot point in the Whoniverse)

Strange England - 2 (takes strangeness to an art form. Can be freely skipped)

First Frontier - 4 (plot relevant for spoiler-y reasons)

St Anthony's Fire - 2 (dark and weird, but well written)

Falls the Shadow - 1 (Just... no)

Parasite - 1 (Written by Jim Mortimore, therefore depressing as all get out)

Warlock - 2 (I did not read. Sequel to Warhead, so only read if you liked it)

Set Piece - 4 (major plot developments for multiple characters)

Infinite Requiem - 2 (like The Dimension Riders, I remember nothing)

Sanctuary - 3 (a pure historical. Not really great on its own, but helps set up Human Nature)

Human Nature - 4 (The story that was adapted to TV. One of the best New Adventures by itself, becomes even better by having fun comparing it to the TV version)

Original Sin - 4 (plot-relevant)

Sky Pirates! - 2 (Only if you like Douglas-Adams-esque dark humor)

Zamper - 3 (Somewhat interesting follow-up to The Highest Science)

Toy Soldiers - 2 (Adds pretty much nothing, but not painfully bad)

Head Games - 4 (a worthwhile look at where the Doctor has been going and who he is)

The Also People - 4 (probably my favorite New Adventure, although Theatre of War and Human Nature are also up there. Also resolves a recurring character's arc)

Shakedown - 3 (Fun, but ultimately fluff)

Just War - 2 (Weird and ultimately unimportant)

Warchild - 2 (Same situation as Warlock. Starts Psi arc, but can be skipped)

SLEEPY - 4 (Generally good story, sets up Psi arc if you skipped Warchild)

Death and Diplomacy - 3 (only worthwhile as setup for Happy Endings)

Happy Endings - 4 (Plot relevant. Ultimately fluff, but plot-relevant)

GodEngine - 4 (not plot-relevant, but an excellent story)

Christmas on a Rational Planet - 2 (part of Psi arc, and lays groundwork for Faction Paradox stuff, but I couldn't really follow it)

Return of the Living Dad - 4 (cleans up old plot threads, and is a great story in its own right)

Cold Fusion - 4 (Not plot relevant, but an excellent, gripping story)

The Death of Art - 2 (part of Psi arc, but not great)

Damaged Goods - 2 (Russel T. Davis's first Who work, but very dark and nasty)

So Vile a Sin - 4 (finishes Psi arc and has other plot relevance)

Bad Therapy - 2 (deals mostly with repercussions of previous story, but not great in and of itself)

Eternity Weeps - 1 (Jim Mortimore's writing is too depressing for me. Technically plot relevant in that Benny and Jason get divorced but not worth it)

The Room With No Doors - 4 (setup for Lungbarrow, good story in its own right)

Lungbarrow - 4 (concludes the new adventures of the seventh doctor in a surprisingly meaningful way)

The Dying Days - 4 (a nice little coda to the series that sets up Benny's adventures as well)

#doctor who #doctor who eu #doctor who expanded universe #dweu #virgin new adventures #doctor who vnas #doctor who virgin new adventures #dw vnas #dw vna #dw virgin new adventures #seventh doctor #ace mcshane #bernice summerfield #chris cwej #roz forrester

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ayebibs · 4 months ago

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What would have made the Veilguard companions more compelling?

I keep racking my brain trying to determine how the marketing of this game was so focused on the companions, their rich lives outside of the narrative, and the journeys that they go on when I think that they are objectively the worst written companions to date. Not to say that their appearances aren’t well designed or that they don’t have really fun and cute moments, but they are simply less three-dimensional than previous companions. Fundamentally, my biggest grievance with the Veilguard companions is that I just don’t find any of them nuanced or interesting. They are all good people, but they are not good or believable characters that fit this plot and interact with it in meaningful ways.

I have never been one of those people that ignore canon, but I have been perseverating on the missed potential of this highly anticipated game that we’ve waited ten years for. So, I wanted to criticize some of these characters and explore some changes that might’ve made for a more compelling group of characters had they been written differently, but (hopefully) respecting the vision of who the characters are at their core because I do think that the skeleton of something great is here.

Disclaimer because this is long and critical: There are a lot of spoilers below. I haven’t read all of the Dragon Age books and I could be missing things, but I also think that the game and the characters’ journeys should speak for themselves as we go through the story. I also get that these are just my opinions, I’m a STEM girlie by trade and a creative on the side! Not everything I suggest may be great or realistic for building a plot or realistic for writing the script of a videogame. I also don’t mind conversations about these characters! I think that would be fun, I just don’t want to be shat on for being very disappointed in this game when it’s been my favorite video game series for half my life and I went in very hyped and willing to excuse a lot!

Alright, if you’re still with me, buckle up!

First, before I outline the specific changes I would make to each character, I want to address that there are just flaws with the way BioWare decided to handle companions as a whole in this game. I want to mention them now because they impact nearly every character and I don’t become repetitive:

1. Most importantly, the approval system is pointless and probably could be left out of this game for all it means to the narrative. It is nearly impossible to wrack up disapproval for the companions and you increase approval and bond by just taking companions out and completing a quest. If the companions like nearly everything that Rook does, then it means that they don’t care enough about anything to have strong rigid opinions (which is good for a well-written character). If companions don’t have an opportunity for meaningful agreements or disagreements, it means that the writing is not what people expect of a Dragon Age game based on every single installment we’ve had so far. It is one of the few things that have stayed the same in all of the past games and one of the things that I think fans are really upset about and should have been nonnegotiable.

2. All of the factions (except for maybe the Grey Wardens) really just needed to be messier and more complicated. Not all of the factions were meant to be heroic throughout the series. As others have commented, the Lords of Fortune and the Antivan Crows are the most glaring examples of this. However, I think that the Mournwatch and Veiljumpers are not exempt from this either. The factions serve as crucial parts of our companion’s backstory and by sanitizing them, we are wiping key opportunities for character development. For example, it could be way more interesting to have a character who fundamentally disagrees with their faction, but doesn’t know how to escape it. Or, what about a character who loves their faction and makes us feel conflicted about them because of their willingness to explain away the faction’s history? I could write (another) essay on this, so I’ll leave this point here.

3. We simply needed to have more conversations with all of the companions. All we have are these short, uninteresting cutscenes to learn about the companions. The player should be able to go up to the companions and ask them about the history of their faction, who they trust and care about in their faction (and why), their past, and their opinions about new information (on other companions, side quests, and plot points). None of these even need a cutscene, just voice acting. It would also help players feel more connected to the companions.

4. There needed to be more visible personal and interpersonal conflict. The companions read like coworkers to me. They mostly like each other and, even if they do have disagreements, they are never explored in the narrative. They don’t seem to have any hugely conflicting viewpoints on any topic and, even if they do, they are benign. For example, what to pack for a camping trip or not wanting to talk about a particular topic (dragons vs. spirits) can be interesting in addition to more complex banter but the banter just feels inappropriate and irrelevant for the plot of this game. Overall, the companions rarely make a fit about anything. It feels like the writers didn’t want any character to appear problematic, but they made them flat because none of them seem to have a hill to die on except that they should save the world. This might have been fine in a game series that didn’t focus so heavily on companions and the way that ethics are shaped by personal experience, but this is not that imaginary game series.

5. The companion quests should have focused more on worldbuilding and getting to know the characters. I have little to say about this other than that the quests for Harding to try out her powers, training Assan with Davrin, shopping with Lucanis, and lighting candles with Emmrich, etc. were lazy, uncreative filler. I really cannot put it any other way. They should have all had quests that better explored their faction and, by extension, them. We barely learn anything in those quests and they are time wasters. Those are the scenes that should have been converted to a codex entry, not some of the important lore drops that we currently have in the codex.

6. Rook chooses one option of a binary for every companion towards the end of their personal quests. I’m okay with some of these, I think that it made sense for Bellara and Davrin to ask Rook what to do in their personal quests because it felt more natural. A friend asking a friend for their input. On the other hand, some of these are really inconsequential, semantic, and mindset related (Neve) and others are such personal choices that it feels inappropriate for Rook to be involved (Emmrich and Lucanis). In a lot of these cases, it would have made more sense to have dialogue options sprinkled throughout the game that influenced companions to make their ultimate choices. Giving Rook so much power in these decisions makes the companions feel one-dimensional because it strips them of agency that any believable character would want. Even if they wanted Rook to make these decisions, companions should have felt more strongly towards the options and either praised or disparaged Rook for their decision.

7. Finally, I found all of the romances very lackluster. I was never someone who considered Dragon Age games glorified dating sims (I actually really don’t like that take, even if it's all jokes), but I found myself missing the depth of relationships in previous games. All the relationships felt too new and shallow. Largely, I think this is due to points 3 and 4, but also due to a lack of reactivity with your companions. For example, companions barely acknowledge you getting them a gift or flirting. This could have also been helped by a few extra cutscenes with the companions.

That mostly covers the overarching issues that apply to all characters. Some of these things might come back in my individual discussions of the characters if it is particularly bad.

If you’re still with me, here are my thoughts on each companion and/or what I think would have made them more interesting:

Bellara

I came to like Bellara much more than I anticipated from the trailers and marketing. However, she is really emblematic of how the writers didn’t want problematic characters. There is nothing in the game that would cause people to accuse her of being problematic, but despite being an elf (a historically oppressed and enslaved group), she is so quick to apologize for the actions of ancient elves who oppressed her ancestors thousands of years ago which is ridiculous and solves nothing. It also really seems like the writers wanted her flaw or quirkiness to be some kind of neurodivergence and nerdiness and that alone doesn’t make a compelling character. I actually think it would be interesting if Bellara was, if not pro-Solas, pro-hearing him out because his intentions were in the interest of the elven people even though he made some shitty decisions. I think she would want to be interested in what Solas knew about the ancient elves and what their society looked like before the Veil. I think she’d want to know as much as she could about the technology. I think it would be interesting if she guiltily admitted to wondering what the world would look like if the Veil came down. How different would it really be to what they’re already experiencing? Could they not mitigate the problems? I think this would be an excellent point of tension between Bellara and Davrin (who is Dalish but might not understand her curiosity in the face of the blight) or Harding (whose people were so impacted by Solas and Mythal’s actions… more on Harding later).

Davrin

Davrin is actually my favorite companions in this game, but I still wanted more from him. I think it would be really interesting if, when the team is gathered around after Weisshaupt that Davrin really pushed back against the idea of sorting out their personal shit before progressing. He’s a grey warden who, in his estimation, just failed his one purpose. I think that this would cause a bit of tension between him and some other characters, like maybe Taash whose concerns are more personal than anyone else's at the time. He is serious and straightforward, so I don’t think it’d be out of character and it would make their friendship and training montage more satisfying later on if they had to move on from it. I would also expand on the fact that he was disappointed to not die when he killed one of the archdemons? It was touched on so briefly and he seems to emotionally resolve it in a few dialogue lines which I think is crazy, even considering that he wants to live to save the griffons and raise Assan. A “blow up” about how the team needs to put their personal affairs aside while struggling to keep his own personal affairs together would introduce a little more depth to his plot line and expand on one of the more interesting things about him that we barely got any time with.

Harding

Harding was one of the most boring characters to me in this game because she felt so flat and there were so many ways to make her more interesting. Her character isn’t helped by the Varric twist because the narrative requires that she doesn’t grieve except for one scene despite knowing Varric for at least a decade. Personally, I think that changing her reaction if/when she finds out what Solas and Mythal did to the Titans and her people would make her more well-rounded and believable. From that point on, Harding should be anti-Solas and you should lose approval with her every time you entertain the idea of trusting him. Maybe she could even express disappointment/frustration/sadness for an Inquisitor who believes Solas can be saved or speak of them more highly if they think that he is irredeemable. Also, we should’ve spent more time with her and the dwarven people. I think Veilguard was such a rushed and half-baked attempt at wrapping up that storyline. We learned so much about the dwarves in the last two games and we get to spend so little time with them.

Taash

Interestingly, I think Taash is one of the few companions with really obvious flaws. They are childish and impatient, but they’re poorly written and their flaws are never acknowledged or treated as flaws by the narrative. In my playthrough, their relationship with Harding might have been an interesting place to explore and address that childishness. It was also a missed opportunity for them to explore Qunari and Rivaini culture. As other people have commented, the binary choice between being Rivaini or Qunari is odd in tandem with Taash’s journey of self-discovery and identity. I think that choice shouldn’t exist and should be encouraged by dialogue options peppered throughout their larger quest. We were so close to exploring the rift that can form in families between first generation children and immigrant parents (and learning more about Rivain and the Qun by extension) when there is love but a fundamental difference in culture and lived experience. Instead, I feel like the narrative never gave us a chance to really hear Shathann out before her death, but I’ll give the writers a break because I think that they were going for tragedy and unresolved conflict and I don't know if I trust them to make that a conversation that fits the world and isn't anachronistic.

Emmrich

The thing that bothered me most about the Emmrich storyline was the final choice between Emmrich becoming a lich and bringing back Manfred. This is another choice that Rook should have influenced rather than choose outright. The number of times that you asked probing questions or commented on Emmrich’s desire to become a lich through more conversations about Emmrich’s fear of death and relationship with Manfred should have determined his final decision. Personally, it felt inappropriate for Rook to make that decision directly for him, no matter how much the game tried to justify it. I would have also liked to see his fear of death impact him more throughout his quest line and the narrative. The final quests are literally a suicide mission and he should have had more dialogue regarding it.

Neve

I’m going to admit that Neve was hardened in my playthrough and I haven’t explored her character in playthroughs where you save Dock Town, so this section might not be applicable to half of you. I didn’t understand a lot of Neve’s motivation behind her actions. I didn’t understand why she felt so passionately about her city or her jobs. Her drive felt hollow to me, making her personal quests feel generic. When I got to Neve’s quest where we gathered clues near the water in Dock Town, I was excited to finally learn anything about her, but it was devoid of any meaningful backstory. I would have written the quest to better explore Neve’s past, motivations, and personal relationships. The other big thing that stands out is that Neve is a noir detective and the VA has clearly gotten direction to sound like one, but her story is so devoid of mystery, intrigue, and many of themes that would make that more than aesthetic. And, like, isn’t her whole faction about freeing slaves? Why not make her personal quest more closely tied to that?

Lucanis

Lucanis’ personal quests are so tied to the dynamics of his faction, so I think a lot could have been solved by making the Crows more morally grey. I think Teia and Viago could have stayed the same, but we should have seen more negative interactions between him and the rest of the Crows. Outside of Illario, Catarina would have been an exceptional vessel to explore the problems within the Crows and a theme like generational trauma or exploitation. The party banter between him and Davrin criticizing each other's factions could have been an excellent space to talk about the negative aspects of the Crows and how Lucanis’ feels about them, either defend some misdeeds or express how he feels conflicted about his past contracts. In my game (when you save Treviso), Spite also felt more like a mildly important accessory in Lucanis’ plot than a significant problem. Few characters had anything significant to say about Spite and he caused few problems. I actually thought Spite was fun for most of the game, but he needed to be more problematic because he gave the impression that he was included more to build an aesthetic for Lucanis than a character-defining plot point. Finally, I think Rook deciding what to do with Illario was a poor decision. I would have written this as a decision Lucanis makes on his own based on how Rook encourages him to deal with Spite through a more fleshed out character arc.

This pretty much summarizes my thoughts on all of the companions. As you can tell, I am very Normal about this game.

I wanted to like these characters so much and they have an unbelievable amount of potential. They are all so fascinating in concept and all of them are poorly executed either due to the relationship building mechanics of the game, because of the writing and dialogue, or a mixture of both. That said, there are brief moments when I like them and I get glimpses of what they could’ve been.

I just hope the characters are better explored in future games (if we get one).

#here is my silly little essay critiquing the veilguard companions and what i think would make them more compelling #this is very Normal behavior #veilguard critical #dragon age critical #bioware critical #datv critical #dragon age

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