Exchange of Realities

I’m rather picky about which plots I keep around. If some fresh-faced farm boy of uncertain parentage comes up to me brandishing a shiny object and declaring that by virtue of this mystical item or these garbled dreams or this mark upon his brow he is the one who will save the world/bring peace to the land/rule a country whose heir to the throne, coincidentally his age, has gone missing—particularly if my sense of the world from which he comes tells me that he’s telling the truth—I put him down for the good of the genre. It’s a public service, really.

You see, Grand Destinies have issues, particularly when they’re the only Destiny in town. Lots and lots of issues. And the more explicit they are, the worse they are. This goes double in games.

The biggest problem with a person or group being destined to save the world is that it gives them explicit narrative protection. Killing off your Chosen Ones is very bad for a Grand Destiny-oriented plot—unless they have spiritual twins, magical clones or some other safety net, who’s going to step up when they’re gone? And when you’ve got a game group in a long-running plot, death isn’t the only threat. What happens if someone has to leave the group due to real-world issues? And what if your group acquires a new member; are you really going to make a second-class PC out of them?

In novels, this results in difficulty with suspense, as the Destined Hero is going to make it through no matter what an idiot he is. In games, this can lead to complacency: everyone knows that none in the group who are not marked for death will die, and that if by sheer bad luck they croak anyway, resurrection can and will be arranged.

Destined Heroes, particularly in narratives, also have a tendency to fall into two personality types, neither of which is much fun to have around. One is the Arrogant Hero. He buys completely into this whole prophecy thing, and expects everyone else to support him Because the Prophecy Says So. The worst part is, they usually do—and if they don’t, Bad Things or some other factor force them to realize that they were indeed wrong, and they come groveling back to the Hero who in a brilliant display of smug magnanimity takes them back after only minimal obsequiousness. (They do, however, continue to apologize.) Oh, brother. The other is the Humble Hero. He’s still getting used to this whole Grand Destiny thing, and figures the job’s too big for him, or he doesn’t know enough, or he is in some other way Unworthy. (Yes, with a capital U.) And he is always wrong, but it doesn’t take just one try to convince him: no, he has to be told again and again that he is indeed up to the job, that he bears the right qualities, that Destiny does not make mistakes, that all he has to do is follow the instructions—and maybe study swordplay a little, or magic, or a relevant skill, but don’t worry, he’ll pick it up like that—and he’ll come out victorious and bathed in glory. And the angst—dear gods, the angst! Or if by some miracle someone manages to convince him early, odds say he’ll swing right the way to the Arrogant Hero’s outlook, and there we go again.

PCs, by the way, are likelier to fall into the Arrogant mold. This goes double for those who believe in the Power of PCs—I’ll discuss that later. You have been warned.

Now, this isn’t to say to throw out prophecies and destiny completely. They aren’t my enemy; it’s only the infallible, unopposed, explicit or singular-interpretation prophecy acting on the One True Hero/Group of Heroes. Destiny can be done right, and prophecy can make an excellent narrative tool, but it takes a careful hand and a lot more effort. Are you willing to take those extra precautions?