6

Characters in VR

Solving for x

As has been mentioned earlier, formulas rarely remain consistent in the world of art making. Too often, storytelling is considered basic addition. While it would be tempting to try to establish a simplistic approach to storytelling within immersive space, something that resembled (a + b = c), experience tells us that the reality is closer to (a + x = c). We are then tasked to solve for x. In essence, storytelling more closely resembles algebra than addition. Our x factor can sometimes be a moving target with a number of variables that affect its form, shifting with genre, audience, and creation purpose. This is, of course, not to say that there are not standard principles that guide the use of algebra. There certainly are. In the same way that mathematicians use truths about the use of numbers in order to consider incredibly complex equations, we can take a similar approach with crafting narratives.

Narrative Shards

Certain narrative elements are used in anything culture terms a story. We will refer to these elements as narrative shards. Imagine the larger world of story as a massive sheet of glass, containing every element that could be found in any flavor of narrative. If we broke that glass apart and examined the many pieces, we would have the shards that made up the larger whole. The concept of shards is perhaps more helpful as opposed to thinking of the larger whole of a story as a puzzle, with machine-cut pieces. The inexact nature and abstract shape of shards of glass serves as a better metaphor for how these elements are actually used. Certain Shards are quite general, such as characters. It is difficult to imagine anything that someone would refer to as a story without at least one character in the narrative. Other Shards, such as contagonists, might be less familiar to those outside the world of narrative studies. In many situations, Shards are the x factor in our story equation. We will often be unconsciously, but eventually consciously, asking what Shards can be most useful in a given narrative situation.

Narrative Shards are often found in experimental work and stories that don’t always fit our traditional definitions of what a story is. For example, some of the work by filmmaker Terrence Malick more resembles visual poetry as opposed to classic storytelling. However, Malick always uses Narrative Shards combined with symbolic imagery in his work to craft thought-provoking explorations of themes. His work may or may not fit neatly within a three-act structure. However, we can easily identify Narrative Shards in every one of his films. The way that Shards will be used and arranged will depend on the artist. A similar metaphor would be to think of these Narrative Shards as colors on a painter’s palette. The colors may be used individually to create a straightforward still-life image. However, the colors may also be mixed and combined to create an abstract concept that takes on different meanings with different viewers. If we consider the immersive piece we are designing as the canvas we will work with, we can play with mixing various Narrative Shards in order to craft our VR film, game, or experience. An entire text could be devoted to defining and exploring these Narrative Shards. However, here are a few Shards that will be helpful in the immersive realm. The definitions of some terms come from one of my previous books, Master of the Cinematic Universe: The Secret Code to Writing in the New World of Media, coauthored with Jeremy Casper.1

Characters

A character is generally a person, animal, or inanimate object. If the character is inanimate, the object usually takes on human characteristics. Characters, of course, are who the story is about. While some stories are crafted around concepts, we miss a compelling opportunity if we do not take advantage of the natural connection audiences have with characters. In immersive media such as VR, the character may very well be the viewer themselves.

Protagonist

The protagonist is the main character of the story—sometimes called the hero or heroine. This is the character or characters through who the entire story unfolds. In some cases, several characters or a group of people will serve as the protagonistic force. In well-developed stories, the protagonist should have a very specific external goal he or she must pursue over the course of the story as well as an internal conflict that needs to be resolved. The protagonist must be a person capable of making a believable, proactive choice at the end of the story in order to reveal to the audience that they’ve completed their character arc. This holds true even if the viewer is the protagonist.

Antagonist

The antagonist or antagonistic force is the opponent to the protagonist. It is a common misconception in storytelling that the antagonist’s goal will be the exact opposite of the protagonist’s. This method, however, would not maximize conflict in a narrative, as both characters could potentially accomplish their goals without ever confronting each other or even being in the same space. In well-crafted narratives, the protagonist and antagonist will want the same thing. Both football teams will want to win the big game. Both adventurers will want to find the ultimate treasure. Both the superhero and the supervillain will want control of the streets of the city. Both boys will want the same girl, and the list goes on.

Conflict

Conflict is the engine of story. It’s what makes things move. Protagonists have little reason to go on any journey until conflict comes into their lives. Conflict may come in the form of another character (such as an antagonist), a ticking time bomb, a natural disaster, an inner demon, or any other force that presents a problem for the protagonist or the achieving of their goal.

External Goal

The external goal is what the protagonist spends most of their time trying to achieve. Regardless of whether the protagonist likes the goal, the goal should be imperative. It should be the thing that drives them. In well-crafted stories, the ending will reveal whether the protagonist achieved their goal, and sometimes, it’s more effective when the protagonist does not get what they want but instead gets what they need.

Internal Goal

The internal goal refers to what the protagonist wants most deeply—even more so than achieving their external goal. Many times, this will be to find love, to gain acceptance, or some other universal human need. Sometimes the internal goal is extremely obvious, but sometimes it’s so nebulous it can’t be articulated. Internal goals may or may not be necessary in some immersive experiences.

Resolution

The resolution is the revelation of the answer to the problem the protagonist has been trying to solve—did they or did they not achieve their external goal? A good resolution also addresses the world in which the story took place—is the world now a better place after the protagonist has completed their journey?

External Story

The external story refers to the external journey of a story’s protagonist—what the protagonist wants. A good external story should have a clear external goal—something that, when achieved, can be seen or visually represented. This Shard is nearly essential for most immersive experiences.

Internal Story

The internal story refers to the internal journey of a story’s protagonist—what the protagonist needs. The internal story requires that your main character have an internal weakness or flaw that needs to be fixed. While on their internal journey, the protagonist must discover and confront this weakness. In the end, the internal story reveals whether the protagonist’s internal problem was resolved. While its use can be powerful, the internal story may or may not be seen in VR gaming experiences.

Internal Flaw

The internal flaw is the inner weakness that the protagonist must overcome. The internal flaw often stems from lies the protagonist has come to believe about him- or herself. At the beginning of a well-constructed story, the protagonist is unaware of their internal flaw, but as the story progresses, they discover it and contend with it, and by the end, they have to choose whether or not to overcome it.

Inciting Incident

Story gurus have called the inciting incident by many names over the years, but regardless of what they call it, they all agree you need one. The inciting incident is the moment that starts the story. It’s the moment when the protagonist becomes aware of their external goal. After the inciting incident, nothing should remain the same for the protagonist. The inciting incident forces the protagonist to make a decision about whether to go on the journey.

Reversal

A Reversal occurs when something unexpected occurs in a story. This Shard can be especially effective if the audience is expecting a character to make one decision and they make the opposite choice. This idea can also refer to the changes of fortune that occur between the protagonist and antagonist as the story progresses.

Character Arc

Character arc refers to how the protagonist changes over the course of a story. In well-crafted stories, a character grows, develops, learns something, or realizes some truth by the end of the narrative. However, it’s important to remember that these elements are part of a character’s internal journey and not something the audience can experience directly like the external journey, unless they are the protagonist in the experience.

Resolution

The resolution of the story is the revelation of the answer to the problem the protagonist has been trying to solve—did they or did they not achieve their external goal? A good resolution also addresses the world in which the story took place—is the world now a better place after the protagonist has completed their journey?

The Role of the Body in Immersive Stories

Many of the Narrative Shards are likely familiar to you, though you may have referred to them by different names. These story concepts are ancient and originated long before concepts such as VR had ever been conceived. To fully understand and embrace the usefulness of these ideas, however, it may be helpful to look at one philosophy in particular that helped us to arrive at our current understanding of users in immersive space, especially in interactive and embodied storytelling experiences such as video games.

While we could easily go back farther, a natural beginning place for any discussion on the ideas surrounding storytelling, bodies, and machines is René Descartes (1596–1650). Descartes formulated the modern version of the mind–body problem. Many scholars believe that, for Descartes, consciousness is the defining property of mind.2 While the mind is fully present in VR space, the body, of course, is not. It is only represented with varying degrees of interactivity and agency. In the Discourse, Descartes presented the following argument to establish that mind and body are distinct substances:

Next I examined attentively what I was. I saw that while I could pretend that I had no body and that there was no world and no place for me to be in, I could not for all that pretend that I did not exist. I saw on the contrary that from the mere fact that I thought of doubting the truth of other things, it followed quite evidently and certainly that I existed; whereas if I had merely ceased thinking, even if everything else I had ever imagined had been true, I should have had no reason to believe that I existed. From this I knew I was a substance whose whole essence or nature is simply to think, and which does not require any place, or depend on any material thing, in order to exist.3

Later, in his work Meditations,4 Descartes changed the structure of the argument. In the Second Meditation, he established that he could not doubt the existence of himself as a thinking thing but that he could doubt the existence of matter. However, he explicitly refused to use this situation to conclude that his mind was distinct from his body, on the grounds that he was still ignorant of his nature.5 This mind–body debate has continued to rage throughout the present age. In VR, there is still a divide between the mind and the body, though most would agree that it is only a matter of time before mediated representations of the body will mirror our actual organic beings to such a degree that they may be indistinguishable. The distinctions and nuances surrounding the discussion of the mind and the body are significant for creating a new language to explore immersive environments and stories. We must be realistic about where we are with the technology that drives the distinctions. However, we should also be aware of where the technology will likely go and try not to be limited in what we imagine to be possible. In part five of his work titled Discourse on Method, Descartes examines the nature of animals and how they are to be distinguished from human beings. Here Descartes argues that if a machine were made with the outward appearance of some animal lacking reason, like a monkey, it would be indistinguishable from a real specimen of that animal found in nature. But if such a machine of a human being were made, it would be readily distinguishable from a real human being due to its inability to use language. Descartes’ point is that the use of language is a sign of rationality, and only things endowed with minds or souls are rational.6 Of course, he never lived to see the computer age or modern AI technology that would seriously call his assumptions into questions.

While Descartes’ ideas have been vastly updated through philosophical history, Cartesian dualism and thinking brings up important matters to question and consider as we design experiences for viewers in immersive space. As human beings enter virtual space, especially in environments as immersive as VR, do the human principles that have upheld our philosophical approaches to life and thus informed our stories still apply, or do we begin to develop new ideas and philosophies that consider the mechanical forms we have assumed in this new space? Do all humans experience their bodies the same way? What are the challenges and perhaps ethical dilemmas of creating experiences that further blur the lines between the mind and the body? Historian Michael Saler has argued that “realized worlds” of role-playing games (and perhaps video games in general) go beyond the restraints of Cartesian dualism. However, the concept remains important to the full understanding of embodied interactive and gaming experiences and serves as a grounding for the future potential of the relationship between the mind and the body.

The Role of Avatars in Virtual Immersive Space

Our current technology allows one a completely different external self, apart from his or her body, in the form of an avatar. We can assume the complexity and realism associated with avatars will only continue to develop and gain traction. The term avatar refers to a Hindu concept that literally means “descent.” It refers to the incarnation or appearance of the divine on earth. Gods such as Vishnu or Ganesha could take a physical form and appear to and interact with humans on earth. The forms or avatars that the God could take were many and varied. This mythological origin gives us our modern understanding of avatars. In virtual spaces, avatars refer to our embodiment in a virtual space. Gaming has long used the concept of avatars to invite players into more immersive experiences. Social media and similar experiences on the internet have furthered the concept of what an avatar in virtual space could be.

VR, AR, and MR, however, offer us an experience in using avatars that we have never seen before. Now we are not only afforded an external presence or body in virtual space, but that body can be completely designed around our preferences. We can now be whoever we want to be with greater realism than we have ever known. In considering the role of avatars in narrative environments, we should remember that avatars have always been and still present themselves as characters in a story. Avatars that will bring a viewer or player further into an experience will be those who have been brought through the same rigorous character development that those who develop film, television, and gaming content employ. Well-developed characters or avatars will give those who embody them the experience of actually being the figure they inhabit.

SPOTLIGHT ON ACTING: Storytelling through Drama in Immersive Experiences

Keight Leighn is a Los Angeles–based actress with a background in Chicago theater. She has played lead roles in a number of immersive theatrical experiences. Her work has been recognized by the Hollywood Fringe Festival for her role in (A)partment 8, a production that was lauded by LA Weekly in 2016 as Most Extreme Audience Immersion in a theatrical production.

John Bucher: Did you go to school for theater? Did you have an epiphany moment where you became interested?
Keight Leighn: I studied theater at DePaul University but started doing summer stock when I was eight, thanks to my grandmother. I also have two sisters, and they’re both actors. There was no epiphany moment, but this is what I love, and this is what I’m going to do. With theater, you have a family backstage, and when you learn that young, you don’t let go of it easily. I went into experimental theater when I was in high school. The drama teacher there liked to be controversial, let the students write their own stuff that was about incest or whatever topics, because that sort of honesty makes good theater. That introduced me to experimental theater. Then I went to the Ontological-Hysteric Theater in New York and asked if I could sweep their floors one summer, because I couldn’t fathom a summer without doing theater. They said, “Well, we do have an internship, but it’s usually for people in college.” They interviewed me. I got the internship and slept on a yoga mat in a closet in Brooklyn for the summer. I learned New York experimental theater and the intensity that comes with artists that are in that world.
I started performing with this punk rock band, a self-described cabaret punk rock band. The singer and I just really hit it off on a performance level, so I would start creating performances. I did that for a while, and that really shaped a lot of my walking past this threshold of fear.
John Bucher: Let’s talk a little bit about the first time you were approached with a piece that was an immersive experience. How did the director describe it to you? How did she paint this picture? I’m sure she didn’t just say, “It’s a play.”
Keight Leighn: I think she literally said, “You’ll be interacting with the audience. It’s going to be like speed dating, and you’re going to have these character arcs, and then the audience members are going to change seats and you’re going to continue your story as this character. You’re allowed to respond to them if they ask you questions and engage with you, but I’m going to be writing this character through the rehearsal process that is developed for you.”
John Bucher: How did you go about preparing for the character that you had in that first piece? What did that look like?
Keight Leighn: The director developed the script and the characters by asking us questions. Then she would give us this piece of the story and direct us to answer questions a certain way. Then she started writing based off of our characters and the story lines coming from the answers to our questions. Finally, she would send the actual script. By that point, we had gotten there in this organic way, so it wasn’t that much of a hop at all, because we weren’t starting with a script.
John Bucher: Did you have exact lines you had to say?
Keight Leighn: Yes. There were these certain beats we had to hit in order for the story to be created in the piece. You’d find out these character stories were weaved in as you heard other characters’ stories.
John Bucher: What did you learn through that first experience?
Keight Leighn: You always have a way out. Even with the craziest people that could be throwing you totally side balls, just because they want to see if they can knock you off. That’s what they’re there for. Just sit and connect. That’s all you’ve got to do. You’ll figure it out, and you’ll figure out how to make your story work. You’ve just got to learn to work on a live wire. In summer stock, when I was a kid, a bat once flew out, because it was in a barn. That’s the magic of theater. You have to work within the moment, and it’s alive.
John Bucher: With immersive experiences, there’s already a heightened level of trust between actor and audience. Were you thinking about that? Did you decide if somebody does something weird, I’ll respond to it? How did you approach that?
Keight Leighn: By default, I trusted people. I had to.
John Bucher: Did you find men and women responded differently? Was it just all individual responses?
Keight Leighn: It’s interesting because they did respond differently. I think men were a little more difficult, but it’s not necessarily what you think. It’s more that there’s this alpha presence verses another alpha presence—so who’s controlling the situation? Some people are really hard. They’re just not going to let you in.
John Bucher: Sometimes it becomes about an energy and communication beyond what the language area of the brain can process?
Keight Leighn: Heidegger would call it the clearing. It’s the poetry. It’s where new language has to be created because it’s just this clearing to something else.
John Bucher: Is there a Meisner equivalent in interactive theater?
Keight Leighn: You can do anything, that’s the point of immersive theater to me.
John Bucher: The energy that’s going back and forth rather than a technique?
Keight Leighn: That was so essential, just being on your toes with their every microexpression.
John Bucher: What would you say to an actor who has never done any sort of immersive theater before and who has been hired now to be a part of an immersive experience? How should they prepare for this experience?
Keight Leighn: It depends on who it is that’s acting—their personality. How that needs to be, how they need to shape that to interactive theater. You’re going to be probably working a really different muscle than you have before. Not hugely different, but still. You want the audience to go through an experience, that’s the goal. Ask yourself, what’s that goal in the experience? That comes first. Then if you’re an actor who has trouble letting go or get upset when anybody does anything wrong, I think all of those things need to 100% go out the window, because you just have to come into it with this mentality that you’re riding a wild horse. The goal is to get it to bring you home. You have to either trick it, or you have to feed it, or you have to beat it. Use what you know about yourself.

Concepts to Consider from Keight Leighn

  • Performing in immersive space requires a certain fearlessness on the part of the actor.
  • There is a heightened level of trust between actor and audience in immersive environments.
  • A deep understanding of oneself is helpful when performing in an immersive experience.

Putting Ideas Together

Animation and digitally crafted characters allow creators to tell stories in ways never possible before. There is a certain comfort in knowing that a fellow human being is responsible for communicating the nuances of a story to you. The term uncanny valley has been used to describe the gap that still exists between the believability of our most lifelike digital creations and actual human beings. There’s something within us, which is difficult to articulate, that knows when we encounter a being that looks like us, talks like us, and acts like us but somehow just isn’t one of us. Advances in AI will continue to move forward, and we may very well one day create machines that achieve human-like consciousness. The more significant issue will be whether we can endow those beings with a conscience. Until that time, human beings, with all their flaws, nuances, and idiosyncrasies, will be what makes immersive experiences fully immersive.

The VR Protagonist

The most significant character or avatar that will be developed for an immersive experience will be that of the protagonist. Creators have used a number of methods to identify their protagonist to their audience, depending on the medium. In novels, many times the protagonist is actually the character telling the audience the story. In theater, supporting characters often discuss or refer to the protagonist in scenes before they actually appear on stage. In film, a combination of techniques including lighting, lens focus, and positioning the protagonist in prominent times and places in the story have been used. However, VR is a new canvas. We must take elements from other disciplines to establish our protagonist, as well as establishing new ones.

Establishing a Protagonist with Position, Light, and Dialogue

The visual language associated with film has become familiar to many audiences. Movie attendance is at an all-time high, and several generations have now grown up speaking “the language of cinema.” Historically, several tropes were used in filmmaking that indicated to the audience that the person they were seeing was the protagonist of the story. Some of these tropes can still be helpful to us today. As we have stated throughout the text, these are forms that can be used not rules that must be followed. A method Hollywood used for many years to indicate the protagonist was to make that character the first to appear on screen. Because our brains tend to make meaning by ordering things and placing structure around what we see, the first character on screen gave the audience a starting place. It placed the character at the top of the dramatic pyramid they would see unfold. It was important that the audience be able to see the character’s face and, even more importantly, the eyes of the character. The first character we saw was usually also the first to speak. We quickly became familiar with what this character looked like, how they sounded, and their mannerisms before introducing any other characters in to the narrative. As viewers need some time to orient when placing an HMD on their heads, using this technique to establish the protagonist can be helpful.

Some stories open with two or more characters speaking or interacting, so using the technique described here can be difficult. In cases such as these, the protagonist can still be positioned either in the center of the frame or toward the right axis in order to establish dominance. Sometimes it can be helpful to place the protagonist slightly forward of any other character. This can be especially helpful when working with the z-axis in immersive environments. Lighting remains a field experiencing the growing pains of a new technology in immersive narratives. Many creators work with animated content in VR specifically to avoid the challenges it creates. Still, there are a number of ways to use lighting as a practical element in immersive environments. There are also a number of production techniques that allow for shooting with staged lighting, eliminating the equipment in postproduction at a later time, so we should not discount this element as a tool for helping to establish the protagonist. Protagonists are usually shown in the most established lighting available. Some scenes allow the protagonist to begin in a poorly lit area and then step in to established lighting, giving the viewer a visual cue that this character is now stepping into prominence in the story.

As mentioned earlier, early Hollywood techniques had the protagonist speaking first in the story, a technique that can still be useful. However, even if another character opens a scene by speaking first, the protagonist should be the driving force in the dialogue of most scenes. This indicates to the viewer that the protagonist is not a victim, which audiences have historically had less empathy for. Instead, when the protagonist drives the conversation, they are positioned to make the difficult decisions in the narrative, causing the audience to relate to their plight in more invested ways. This, of course, does not mean that the protagonist never displays weakness. Skilled writers will learn how to allow the protagonist to forward the character and his or her story through vulnerability as well. This vulnerability can be established in dialogue. More than a century of cinematic stories have taught viewers to look for the protagonist to be the character most capable of change—the character we are most likely to see arc. If your narrative does not give space for the character to make a difficult decision or learn something near the end of their journey, there is a greater risk for the viewer to have less investment in the story.

Establishing a Protagonist for First-Person-Viewer Narratives

Of course, in VR, the viewer is often the protagonist in the narrative. This will eliminate some techniques from potential use and greatly expand others. While lighting and dialogue become less significant, position remains important. A balance must be struck between the interesting places the viewer can be positioned in VR and establishing the viewer’s role as the protagonist. Granted, because human beings generally feel like the protagonists in their own life stories, first-person experiences tend to allow the viewer to feel as though they are the protagonist by default. However, just because an experience allows the viewer the first-person point of view (POV) does not necessarily mean they are the protagonist in the experience. Not only does where we position the viewer in the space become important but where we position them in the narrative as well.

As mentioned in the previous section, viewers are entering VR experiences with many established ideas about the ways that visual narratives work. If a viewer is to feel as though they are the protagonist in the experience, they must feel as though they are the driving force. This is true in both gaming and cinematic experiences. Viewers will feel as though they are driving the narrative if they recognize they are capable of change, are able to make decisions, or can learn something throughout the course of the journey. We often refer to these elements as the viewer’s agency in the experience. The degree and varied ways that viewers will experience change in a narrative can depend on a number of factors. Whether the experience is interactive or cinematic, the purpose of the experience, and length of time spent in the immersive space all affect the viewer’s ability to experience change. How the viewer changes will depend on a wide field of factors as well. For example, in a VR gaming experience, the viewer may change by simply acquiring more weapons or powers than they began with. Knowing that these changes are possible at the beginning of the narrative is an important part of the viewer’s psychological experience if they are to feel some degree of reward or satisfaction with the narrative.

Change only occurs when the protagonist, in this case the viewer, is allowed to make decisions or at least feels as though they have made decisions. A viewer in a cinematic experience feels as though they too have made a decision when the character on screen makes a decision the viewer feels they would have made as well. Some genres generate success by allowing the viewer to feel the opposite of this. In the horror genre, the viewer may feel a sense of exhilaration when the protagonist chooses to open a door they would not have opened in real life. This experience can work even when the viewer is in a cinematic narrative, where they technically did not make the decision. Viewers feel they have learned something when they have experienced the theme of the narrative. In this case, the term “learn” refers to the neurological reward a viewer feels when they resonate strongly with an idea or feel they are slightly different in some way than when they began the experience. In the case of the horror experience mentioned earlier, the theme might be as simple as not opening doors when we don’t know what is behind them. In that particular experience, the viewer would experience this theme by opening the door and contending with whatever horror lay before them. Because of the emotional needs viewers tend to express when in an experience, either interactive or cinematic, discussions on theme should be prioritized in the development process.

Establishing the External Goal of the VR Protagonist

Once we have established who the protagonist is in the experience, there are several other factors that should quickly be determined. First among these is the external goal of the protagonist. The external goal will be what we see the character accomplish on screen, as opposed to some sort of change or accomplishment that occurs within him or her. The external goal should be made clear early in the experience, unless the entire purpose is allowing the viewer to explore and wander. It should be recognized that many viewers will quickly tire of these sorts of experiences, however, unless a goal or narrative is introduced. The quicker the viewer knows what they are supposed to be doing in the experience, the quicker they can become engaged.

Many creators struggle with the external goal, often confusing it with internal processes. For example, finding love is not an effective external goal, as this happens within a character’s psyche. Technically, we cannot see someone find love. We cannot take a picture of it. We can only see moments that would seem to indicate this has taken place. The viewer has no way of actually knowing if this has really occurred. Thus, we can never truly know if the goal has been accomplished or not. On the other hand, finding a date to the prom is an effective external goal. We can see that this goal has been accomplished. We can take a picture of it. The “picture test” is a good way to determine if you have established an effective external goal.

Establishing the Internal Goal of the VR Protagonist

Internal goals can be difficult to execute in narrative experiences, especially when the experience revolves around something very external, like, say, killing zombies. Even if the external goal is simply inferred, the audience psychologically seeks why we want to kill these zombies. If there are reasons beyond zombies simply being bad or disgusting, the audience will have deeper investment in the experience. Simple narrative motivations such as establishing that zombies killed the protagonist’s father can provide enough impetus for a believable internal goal—which in this case might be to avenge the character’s father’s death. The simpler the immersive experience, the simpler the internal goal is likely to be. However, internal goals that reinforce the theme of an experience are often why people return to certain narratives even after they know how the plot points will play out.

The internal goal is oftentimes something the protagonist is completely unaware of in third-person experiences. Other characters may reference it at the beginning of the story, but the protagonist learns what this internal goal is over the course of the narrative. It is the lesson the character learns. In first-person narratives, the internal goal may never be directly stated. It may be inferred as a motivation for the character the viewer is stepping in to. Because viewers bring such varied experiences with them into immersive space, the internal goal should always be universal and archetypal when possible, ensuring that the largest percentage of the audience will resonate with it. Knowing what the theme of the experience you’re designing is helps you craft the internal goal of the protagonist. If you can identify that the experience you are creating explores the theme of forgiveness or overcoming fear or confronting loneliness, the execution of the internal goal within your protagonist is much easier, as these elements should be connected. Because present VR technology lends itself to singular experiences for an audience of one, the internal goal may be more focused or nuanced or potentially personal if you are aware of the specifics of the demographic that will be engaging the experience.

The VR Antagonist

After the protagonist has been created in your experience, attention should be given to crafting the second most significant character—that of the antagonist. In some narratives, there is an antagonist force as opposed to having the opposition situated solely in one character. This force might be an institution such as the government, a force of nature such as a tornado, or a supernatural force such as zombies. Regardless of whether the force is centralized in a single character or represented by a group or concept, there should be something opposing the protagonist’s accomplishment of his or her goal. For the sake of simplicity here, we will simply refer to any and all these possibilities as the antagonist. The antagonist should be just as motivated as the protagonist to accomplish their goal. The stakes they face should be just as high. In other words, the protagonist and the antagonist should be equally matched.

One of the ways to ensure that the protagonist and antagonist are equally matched is to make sure that the antagonist has a strong argument for accomplishing their goal. It should only be their motivation or method that is flawed. Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader both want control of the galaxy. They have different reasons why they fight for this goal, however. They have different ways of going about accomplishing their goal. Vader has a strong argument for the success of the Empire. He wants to bring order to chaos. His order comes with an iron fist, however, where Skywalker’s is laced with freedom. In Star Wars, we see two competing philosophies fighting for the hearts of the audience. Evenly matched antagonists with strong arguments will keep the audience engaged in the narrative as the conflict unfolds.

Establishing an Antagonist with Position, Light, and Dialogue

Once a protagonist has been visually established in a narrative, the antagonist will be easier to identify, as much from their actions as from anything else. However, there are several techniques that can be helpful in visually establishing some antagonists. Where the antagonist is positioned on screen will likely be established by where the protagonist is situated. However, positioning the antagonist in shadows, corners, and off-axis does give the viewer the cue that there is something to be investigated further with the character. Creating shadows on the antagonist’s face with lighting can also indicate the shadowed nature of the character visually. Bringing the antagonist closer to the protagonist or the viewer can be effective but does tend to raise tension in a scene and can make the viewer feel threatened, which may be exactly what the creator is attempting to accomplish.

There is often a temptation with creators to most fully execute antagonists through dialogue. While some dialogue is usually necessary in establishing the motivations and methods of the character, this can easily create uninteresting situations for the viewer in which the antagonist explains the plot of the narrative to another character. What we see the antagonist do is more important than what we hear them say in any visual narrative. Oftentimes, having the antagonist say one thing but do another can increase their villainous and hypocritical nature, making the audience more actively root against them and their goals. Dialogue is important to crafting a successful antagonist, but relying too heavily on it will cause greater narrative problems for the creator.

Establishing an Antagonist for First-Person-Viewer Narratives

Some experiences may allow the viewer to actually be the antagonist in the story. In this case, we will want to take most of the elements we use to craft the protagonist mentioned earlier and apply them to the antagonist. The fun for the viewer in these experiences will be knowing just how flawed their moral argument is but still getting to pursue it anyway—a psychological fantasy many human beings enjoy and that can be healthy in certain situations. Even when the viewer is not directly the antagonist in the narrative, they very well might fit the definition of an antihero, to whom many of the same principles would apply.

Additional Characters

Most narratives will expand beyond the journeys of the protagonist and the antagonist. Additional characters can be some of the most memorable and fun for the viewer. It is important, however, that additional characters have a narrative purpose. This purpose is usually related to either the protagonist or the antagonist and their respective goals. These characters, in some sense, should either be helping the protagonist move toward their goal or actively pushing the character away from their goal. These characters come in many forms and represent a great many archetypes. The best friend, the sidekick, the wise old sage, the minion, the bitter coworker, and the annoying boss all have their place in the narrative world.

 

Exercise 4

Developing a More Advanced Narrative

OBJECTIVE: 1. To craft a more advanced narrative with solid logic and structure.
2. To practice working with the narrative elements in constructing the overall narrative.

Assignment

Use the instructions for the previous exercise to create a two-page pitch of a new narrative, but this time, do not allow yourself to use any of the techniques below, as they can sometimes be crutches in crafting narratives:

  • No voiceovers
  • No flashbacks, flashforwards, or adjusting real time
  • No dream sequences
  • No stories that take place inside people’s heads
  • No inanimate objects as main characters
  • No demon possession/schizophrenia in main characters*
  • No mentally disabled main characters*
  • No main characters who are homeless*
  • No main characters who struggle with OCD*
  • No main characters who struggle with addiction*
  • No characters incapable of change

* While these struggles can make a character seemingly more interesting, they also saddle the character with issues they are usually incapable of changing in a believable amount of time. If you choose to work with a character that struggles with one of these issues, the narrative should not be about the character trying to overcome the issue.

 

Exercise 5 

Recognizing an Antagonistic Force

OBJECTIVE: 1. To demonstrate the ability to identify the characteristics of a strong antagonistic force in a story.

IDENTIFY 20 STRONG ANTAGONISTS OR ANTAGONISTIC FORCES from stories that you enjoy. Name the character, the story they are identified with, and the character’s external goal. (Remember that a strong antagonist will have the same goal as the protagonist. See the section on Antagonistic Forces if you have difficulty.)

  • ANTAGONIST/ANTAGONISTIC FORCE:
  • STORY:
  • EXTERNAL GOAL:
 

Exercise 6 

Identifying the Internal Journey

OBJECTIVE: 1. To demonstrate the ability to identify the internal journey in a story and utilize it to strengthen the external journey.
  • IDENTIFY 5 STORIES IN WHICH THE PROTAGONIST GOES ON A SIGNIFICANT INTERNAL JOURNEY.

Write two pages about how this internal journey enhances and affects the external journey that we see carried out. Identify the internal goal and conflict of the character as well. Also, discuss how the storyteller gave external cues as to what was happening with the character’s internal journey.

  • STORY:
  • PROTAGONIST:
  • INTERNAL JOURNEY/GOAL/CONFLICT:
  • VISUAL CUES ABOUT INTERNAL JOURNEY:

Notes

1Bucher, John and Jeremy Casper. Master of the Cinematic Universe: The Secret Code to Writing in the New World of Media. Los Angeles: Michael Weise Productions, 2016. Print.

2Rozemond, Marleen. Descartes’s Dualism. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1998.

3Descartes, René. Discourse on Method. 6:32–33. N.p. Broadview, 2017. Print.

4Descartes, René. Laurence J. Lafleur. Meditations on First Philosophy. 7:27. India-napolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1951. Print.

5Ibid.

6Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy Online. www.iep.utm.edu/descarte/#SH8d

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