Video games have some of the most iconic characters in all of storytelling: Mario and Luigi, Link, Zelda, Pikachu, Master Chief, Lara Croft, GLaDOS—and I could keep going. Many games have you make your own character, projecting a digital avatar of your choice (whether true to yourself or a projection of a role you’d like to play) into a fantastical world. Beyond the playable and main characters, NPCs (non-playable characters) are also an essential feature of many games, known for wacky behavior or comments that catch the player’s attention. Video games treat characters differently than novels do, for the most part, but there’s plenty for novelists to learn from both main player-controlled characters and NPCs alike.

For main characters, there’s an interesting phenomenon in video games that applies in some novel-writing situations to a degree: the idea of the playable character as a “blank slate,” ready for the player to project their own personality onto them. Naturally this notion is prevalent in games where you play as your own avatar, but it’s also famously the reason for Link’s silence in The Legend of Zelda series. (Even Link’s name comes from that idea, since he is the link between the game and the player.) In the context of novels, of course we want (and need) our main characters to have some personality that makes them compelling to the reader. However, one benefit of the “blank slate” concept is relatability. If a reader or player can identify with or relate to the main character, it helps with absorption into the world and story. Just as video games allow a player to envision what it would be like to roam around in someone else’s shoes in another world, so should novels. While it’s impossible to make a main character who is equally relatable to every single person, as authors we should strive to make our main characters appealing to our audience (whether that’s a specific target group in mind or a wide audience). Keep in mind that your main character—whether written in first or third-person—is that link between the reader and the story, and consider how readers are responding to that perspective of your lead. The same could also apply to other secondary point-of-view characters, but matters most in the context of your primary protagonist, since your readers will spend the most time with them.

The main character of your story is the most important to get right, but a strong supporting cast is also essential. A good analogy for your allies and secondary characters from video games is the RPG (role-playing game) party. I love a good fantasy RPG, and across all that I’ve played (whether Fire Emblem, Xenoblade Chronicles, Dragon Quest, or Paper Mario), the key rule of building a party is balance. In other words, every party member needs a specific, specialized role. If you have too much focus on attack power, chances are your party will keep getting wiped out because you don’t have enough defense or healing magic on your team. If the party is out of balance, it’s a lot hard to progress through the game, or, at best, just not a very fun or interesting gameplaying experience. Where’s the lesson for novelists here? Make sure your hero has a balanced team supporting him or her. This applies to powers or abilities, as in games, but more broadly can also apply to personalities, motivations, and relationships. If your hero is only surrounded by loyal yes-men as allies, that’s boring. If the hero and his companions are all buff warriors or all brainy scholars, that’s boring. Make sure there’s a variety of side characters and allies who all have a necessary role only they can fill, unique interests, and a distinct personality. If you evaluate your character line-up and discover you have two characters who overlap in one of these ways, consider if you really need both of those characters. Keep your novel adventuring party balanced to keep the story and interactions engaging and cut back on the clutter of too many redundant characters.

Related to allies, but also relevant for side characters, it may also be helpful to remember the side quest. Specifically, how the side quest shows that everyone wants something. Thinking just of Breath of the Wild, some examples of side quests include: investigating weird noises that turn out to be weather phenomenon, recovering lost treasure, fighting a particular enemy, etc. And completing these quests always yields a reward, of varying quality and rarity. Applied to novels, think of your main supporting characters. What are they seeking? What do they want from the hero? What reward are they expecting? Reframing characters as on their own mini-quest—a side quest for your main character—can help flesh out some of those motives, including ways their motivations and goals clash with other characters or the hero. And, if the expected reward doesn’t appear for that side character, how would they respond? Asking and answering such questions can help with plot and character arc development, or find ways to add more conflict into the main story. Minor characters, too, can benefit from this thinking. If a hero needs something from a random shopkeeper, what does that store owner want? What will the reward be? Though a small detail and a small character, considering them with the language of the side quest can help make even the most background figure become more lifelike.

While most of my discussion relates to personalities, motivations, and roles, it’s also important to consider how relationships change over the course of a story. One of my favorite aspects of the Xenoblade Chronicles games is the use of the Affinity Chart, which is a record of you, your party, and the NPCs you encounter in the world, with color-coded lines, symbols, and descriptions that map how characters feel about each other. These connections between characters change over time and as certain quests are completed. For example, two characters may start out hating each other until you solve the issue dividing them, and then the chart updates to show that they now respect one another. In the case of thinking through characters in a novel, the Affinity Chart may be a useful way to keep track of what side characters know each other and how relationships might shift as the circumstances change. I personally have found it useful in the context of developing backstory for allies, as it made me consider how each character relates to their family of origin and important people from their past who may show up over the course of the story. With a lengthy series like The Myth-Keepers, an Affinity Chart also allows me to keep track of the progression of relationships among the main cast with each new book as well, to make sure there’s still enough relational conflict throughout the series. After all, if the main crew all becomes best buds at the end of Book 1, with no change, that’s boring. An Affinity Chart as a visual model is a useful identifier of those relationship changes over time.

I hope these ideas provide some new ideas on how to increase the realness of your characters and the people populating your stories. Next month, I’ll talk about plot construction techniques.