[Lee in Limbo]

I think we're running up against the problem of expectations versus the shorthand used to deliver characterization in highly technical mediums. One of the biggest limitations to writing for a medium like this (as oppsed to theater, television or even cinema) is that the dialogue has to be written many months in advance of the 'performance', and that performance has to be shoehorned into a fairly technical virtual world before the performance can be received. This limits the amount of rewriting, finessing and improvising that a professional actor can put into their performance to get across certain points that aren't coming across well in the original script. With games, the writer pretty much has to use broad strokes and shorthand flourishes to get their point across because they won't get a chance to fix it later.

I know, I sound like I'm missing the point. Gimme a second.

I'm not saying that certain naive male characters wouldn't be as capable of negotiating the ins and outs of an adventure like TLJ or DF. I think it largely comes down tot he expectations of the audience, and what they might expect a male character to be able to do in a story without seeming ineffectual.

I know it runs up against the stereotype of the athletic, violent male hero, and I know that many men don't fit into that mold. However, on some level, most men are expected to emulate that stereotype, or be regarded as less than a man. I know this feeling quite well myself, and though we're not of the same nationality, Ragnar and I are fairly close in age, and I suspect have some relatively similar backgrounds. I may be wrong, but I think I understand a little of where Ragnar is coming from.

We both think that there is something about female heroic leads that allows for a different kind of adventure, where the solutions can be more varied, because (some) women are a generally perceived as being a lot better at using different lines of logic and problem solving than men, who tend to see every problem in the manner they are trained to deal with problems. Soldiers see everything as a conflict to be confronted head on. Spies are always looking for the back door and trying not to be seen sneaking in and out. Engineers are always trying to build or break down a problem using a proper application of physics and chemistry. Nerdy or artsy guys always try to talk their way out of a situation, or start looking for the sliding tile puzzle to open the door.

Sure there are grey areas where the engineer or the arty guy might pick up a baseball bat and hit the antagonist over the head to get away, and certainly the soldier may use guile or engineering to surmount an obstacle that guns and fists can't. I mean, Doctor who is the ultimate story of a guy who uses his brain to defeat his foes and save innocent people. It's not impossible to write stories where a thinking, feeling, fallible man is the hero. But it takes work to build up that alternate image of the hero, and they often have to strike a different kind of heroic pose to make it clear that they're quite capable even without a fist or a gun.

This in no way excuses Ragnar for writing relatively ineffectual male characters (Brian's a drunkard, Burns is a paraplegic, Damien is kind of a wimp, Cortez, is cranky and enigmatic, and Crow is a goofy and cantakerous bird who is more use as comic relief than actual adventuring). It also doesn't justify him writing his plucky if reluctant (a very important trait, that reluctance) female leads in to clean up the mess all of this posturing men have made the world to be.

Now, let's talk for a minute about bumbling male leads and why they're so much fun. It's actually a nice change of pace to have a grand heroic adventure, and at the center of it is this mousey or at least less than 'manly' guy in over his head trying to resolve the problem. It's what most of us feel like in our daily lives, so we can immediately identify with him. However, the thing about that guy is, his arc towards heroism is fairly linear. At some point, he has to defeat the villains of the peace and restore the status quo. In order to do so, he has to endure a series of increasingly gruelling misadventures in order to learn to overcome his shortcomings as a man. In the end, he overcomes all obstacles and learns that he is indeed a man.

Now, I know that's a very trite, stupid, stereotypical formula, and there are lots of stories that seek to subvert that. The thing is, those are fairly specific stories, and they usually are tweaked ever so slightly to allow for the guy to discover that he is a hero without having to become Indiana Jones or James Bond to succeed. And they're usually comedies or movies of the week. Adventure story arcs can be sophisticated in detail, but the basic structure at the core is usually relatively formulaic. It's a short hand that has been passed down for centuries. Something about the knave who becomes a knight is ingrained in the woof and weft of adventure storytelling, and it affects a lot of our perception of what makes someone heroic.

The neat thing about writing women is that, right off the bat, you have someone who doesn't necessarily have to become the knight in shining armour to resolve the plot. Simply put, it's not expected of her. What makes it particularly fascinating is when she applies her perspective on a situation, which is often different from the antagonists, and by thinking out side of the box effectively outsmarts them. It's also highly rewarding to see the occasional female lead use the typical male heroic gesture of knocking the villain on his (or her) ass, after the outwitting has taken place

I think this formula is also a little pat and certainly nothing new, but it's relatively new as compared to the standard hero's journey, and it's fun in the context of the continuing struggle for women's equal rights inw hat is still by and large a male-dominated world (though thankfully, that does appear to be changing for the better). It feels good to see the woman you have been following through her adventure solve problems in ways that the men around her can't seem to do, and by using every trick in the book, beat the villain(ess) to the punchline, because they're used to dealing with short-sighted men.

It takes a lot of work to write a slight man who saves the day and doesn't turn into a macho dink in the process. The hero's journey is a very deep, resonating groove, and it's charming and clever to subvert it by putting someone seemingly inept or incapable into the role and have them somehow grow into the role without becoming as limited and as shallow as the more ideal candidate, often depicted in the same story as ultimately failing spectacularly. This is a fairly modern fantasy, a form of wish fulfillment invented primarily by writers who were picked on in school, and yet it too resonates with so many others who were also bullied. It's the sort of story young writers start writing very early on, until they figure out that it's been done many times before, and is hard to resolve without doing things that have already been done.

Interestingly, it's often women writers who break this deadlock as well, as evidenced by J.K. Rowling most recently. Harry slowly grows into a relatively heroic young man, but he never quite achieves that level of heroic polish that threatens to remove all of his gawky, boyish charm. Before that happens, the story ends, and he is seen briefly many years later as a relatively sedate father-type, who has long put the wars behind him and gone on to live a peaceful life. This was a very intelligent and honest way of resolving his story, even though it surely disappointed some who wanted him to go on to greater things.

However, it took seven novels of increasing length to get to that point, and some still feel that it was rushed.

Returning to my fave TV show, the current Doctor (David Tennant) is a prime example of a very quirky, unorthodox and highly un-macho guy who regularly taps into reserves of quiet heroism and daring-do (and often the help of his companions) to unravel the machinations of overly fascistic or patriarchal forces, and yet rarely if ever comes off as the standard boiler plate hero. But his formula is also fairly recognizably that of Doctor Who, and any story that approaches it suffers by comparison. Believe me, I know. My first ten years of 'serious' writing were spent dallying with this formula, in a series of books I've never bothered to finish.

The point about the Doctor's story is, it's almost 45 years old now. Every once in a while, the forces of evil triumph and he is forced to regenerate, rising from the ashes like a phoenix to take up the fight again. In that sense, he's an almost typical hero, because he never gives up. Most of us would have caved long ago, but the Doctor never does. So in that, he breaks both the nerdy and heroic stereotypes, because he's already another kind of hero.

(2 B cont'd)