Sep 08 2008
How They Say It
One of my favorite ways to try to get a read on a character’s competence level is by asking them what they’ve done. Not just for the sake of learning their heroic deeds, mind you; that’s only a small part of it. What matters more to me is how they view what they’ve done, and how they talk about it. Observe the differences:
“And the dragon of Sparrow’s Reach bore down on me, its gaping maw open wide, the fire from its throat as hot as the heart of the Inferno. I stared back at it without fear, and set my spear against it, and as the vile beast flew towards me I thrust the spear into its mouth, past its razor teeth, down into its gullet. And so I defeated the dragon of Sparrow’s Reach.”
“The dragon of Sparrow’s Reach? Oh, right, that…. It flew in, and I panicked and shoved the spear in its general direction, and my spear went into its throat and killed it. They made a much bigger fuss than they should’ve. And I didn’t exactly come out of it quite as clean as they said; do you have any idea what a mess it makes when you stab something like that in the throat? It was only what I had to do, that’s all. The praise is a bit much.”
“Eh, that dragon. The Frosty Quay Wyrm was harder. Really, all I had to do was aim my spear in the right place. Nothing more, really. For me, it was all part of the job.”
“So there we were. One dragon bearing down on us, breathing fire like old Bill’s oven on baking day, and just me, my spear, and my horse, and the horse was a bit busy panicking to count. At least I’d dismounted before the dragon arrived. So I set my stance against it, waited for the right moment, and stabbed. And it worked. I hadn’t expected it to work, but there it was, and… well, no more dragon of Sparrow’s Reach.”
Honestly, if I were talking to the first one, I’d ask him what he was trying to prove. I’ll grant that that is indeed the standard tone for the narration of epic fantasy—and I’ll admit, I’m biased, I dislike it even when it’s being used in that manner. It sets my teeth on edge. But when someone’s talking about their own accomplishments in this way, it sounds way too much like they’re blowing their own horn. I’d be inclined to think that they’d just borrowed someone else’s ballad and cribbed the names and dates for themselves, and would honestly doubt whether they’d even seen the dragon of Sparrow’s Reach up close. Maybe I could work with them, but I’d spend the first month trying to wean them off of that approach; who’d want to sound like an apprentice bard with delusions of grandeur when talking about their own achievements?
The second would be just as off-putting, but for different reasons. Humility is a virtue, but that level is just sickening; I’d expect someone like that would have something to prove, but not the same thing as the previous speaker. Maybe they’re trying to toady up to me?
The third: okay, clearly they know what they’re doing, but the ego—get it away from me, now!
The fourth: I like this style. It’s conversational, and while it isn’t completely matter-of-fact, it’s no more dramatic emphasis than I’d see in someone telling me about something interesting they’d done the other day. If, as in this case, someone’s using a conversational style to describe a feat worthy of its own ballad, this tells me that not only do they know what they’re doing, but they’re confident; they might figure the deed will grow in the telling anyway, or they might just not be looking for the recognition.
What do you think?
