Exchange of Realities

This should have gone up hours ago, but my network ate my post.  Here it is now instead.

When people write characters, the emphasis is often on what the character can do. It’s useful—after all, what they can do determines their roles in the plot, what sorts of scenes they can be written into, and in some cases how they react to other characters. What a character can do is a vital piece of information.

But people often forget that the converse can be just as important, and just as interesting. Nobody can do everything—so what can’t a character do?

For roleplayers, this is often the easy part; there are mechanics for what a character can’t do, usually related to the things she can do. In fact, one game, Og, makes a point of providing mechanics for things the characters can’t do—even if they’re things the character wouldn’t be able to do anyway.

But for some people, it’s not that easy. Take roleplaying in a game with a point-buy system; given enough time and XP, one could theoretically learn to do everything. Similarly, a writer’s characters just plain aren’t limited by mechanics, and it’s very tempting to not really have things a character can’t do—or at least, make sure that anything the character can’t do isn’t particularly important.

So what’s wrong with that? Why shouldn’t a character be able to do everything?

The answer is simple: It’s boring.

A villain without any “can’t do” things is invincible. A hero without any can’t dos is a Mary Sue. A supporting character without any can’t dos is just annoying.

Moreover, having things she can’t do gives a lot of things to a character. One is humanity; flawless characters, as I said before, are no fun. Another is a source of decent obstacles; when confronted with something she can’t do, what does the character do? Does she try anyway, ask for help, avoid those sorts of situations? Does she attempt to learn to do what she can’t do, or dismiss it as not worth the effort? What about its effect on other people? Does she try to avoid letting people know she can’t do it, or does she admit it because that’s the only way she’s going to be able to get help doing it? If she’s trying to keep her inability a secret, how does she go about making sure the job gets done?

Any time characters are in conflict, can’t dos become even more important. Finding out what an antagonist can’t do can be an interesting story challenge, and particularly inventive characters can almost always find a way to take advantage of the opposition’s weakness. Of course, there’s no reason why the antagonists can’t do the same thing, and every reason why they should. Who’s better at keeping their weaknesses a secret?

Besides, can’t dos are the perfect foundation for a group. Who else are you going to team up with but people who can cover for your weaknesses?

Keep track of what people can’t do. It’ll do the story a mess of good.

More characterization tips and tricks here.