So you’ve got an idea for a character you’d like to play. Maybe it’s an elven ranger who uses a bow and has long blonde hair? Maybe it’s a red-haired dwarf with a Scottish accent and a love for ale and her axe? Or maybe it’s that human paladin with shiny armor and a do-good attitude who has unshakable faith in his deity. We have a lot of freedom when we play Dungeons and Dragons, especially when making our characters. We can play whoever you want and however we want (it may not always turn out well, but we can try…). While creating a character, either for the first time or the one-hundredth time, we should remember one thing; It’s okay to be cliche.
Cliche ideas aren’t original, but that’s not always a bad thing. They’re great starting points. What cliches lack in originality they make up for in familiarity. For example, if you describe your new elven ranger as “Legolas but with black hair,” now I know exactly what you have in mind. Cliches are a great way to quickly convey concepts to others.
If you’re a new player to Dungeons and Dragons, it’s okay to stick to cliches at the start. If you can’t envision a ranger without a bow and long pointed ears — and if that’s the approach that gets you into the game and the mindset — then that’s the best approach.
But characters never stop growing, and that’s what makes cliches a good starting point. They give us a good foundation to build on.
So how do we grow characters? Let’s look at three areas that you can put creativity into that will make your character more original and unique: concept, backstory, and actions.
Cliché Character Concepts
Before we dive in, let’s quickly define the character concept. Character concept isn’t about what has happened to your character or even what they have done, It is what you envision your character to be.
It’s a guide we use when deciding on additional aspects of our character. It’s something that we should refer to when making decisions about our character’s growth.
Your concept could be an archetype, like a do-good paladin, or a knowledge-seeking wizard — these are pretty standard but they help shape the character in our mind during all aspects of the game.
One of the most overused character concepts out there is the orphaned, raised-on-the-streets rogue. I can’t tell you how many times as a Dungeon Master (or as a player) I have seen this rogue archetype. I’ve seen it done well and I’ve seen it done poorly. The difference often comes down to how willing the player is to expand and deepen the character concept.
In my experience, the rogues that applied the orphaned rogue archetype well were the players willing to use the archetype as a backdrop for player interaction. Utilizing the idea of their character to form new relationships and adding their own flourishes.
Ultimately, just because you have a cliche character concept does not make your character cliche.
Personally, some of the characters that I’ve had the best time playing have been human fighters even though they are the epitome of bland and uninspired in most D&D settings. In fact, my first character started as a standard human fighter with a sword and shield and not much else.
But over time my fighter grew into someone unique. Through playing the game and being open to new ideas — no matter the origin — my fighter ended his journey as one of my favorite characters. He started as a cliche, but he became my own.
I did this by learning an important lesson. Building a deep and interesting character concept has more to do with actually playing the character than seeing how many unique concepts you can cram into the character at the beginning. As you play, look for opportunities to bring in new ideas.
Make sure you revisit your character concept whenever something major happens to your character, decide what the impact is to your character.
If you repeatedly neglect the growth of your character’s concept, you’re going to be left with a one-dimensional Legolas with a ponytail and really, that’s all he will ever be (no matter how flowing those locks are).
Orginal Character Backstories
Backstory is what made your character the person they are today. They inform the character’s values, reactions, and desires.
“I can’t trust anyone, because I was betrayed in the past…” or “I can’t allow myself to love, because my heart was broken…” are two classic backstories. Heck, it’s as if every character in Dungeons and Dragons’ world has lost their family to the same roving band of demons when they are old enough to adventure.
These aren’t bad starts for a backstory, but most end there. A cleric who has had everything taken from them, and they wander the world nihilistically alone searching… For what? These can be motivators. Why does your character search and what do they search for? All of these questions should be informed by your character’s backstory, even if it is cliche, expand upon it.
Just like cliche character concepts, these classic backstories can be used as is, but developing them further makes the character much richer. Exploring the implications of your backstory and keeping it in mind when making decisions is what helps keep the backstory relevant and cohesive.
A backstory becomes irrelevant when it has no impact on your character’s actions.
Let’s say my character, Malbar the Just, an archetypal Paladin who was raised to protect the innocent and trained to see the good in people, turns to torture and intimidation when frustrated. Given his backstory, we would expect him to react in horror; if Malbar shows no remorse, then his backstory is irrelevant and unbelievable.
I understand that we want to play complex characters, but how interesting or intriguing a character is has a whole lot more to do with how they handle tough situations or in what scenarios they would compromise their morals rather than how much their backstory is unique.
It also helps to let actions reveal your backstory. Don’t divulge your character’s backstory in the first 45 minutes of a session as if your character is an open book — unless your character is an open book… — let the reveal be a slow burn. Let your character be a person. If I endured some tragic hardships, I probably wouldn’t reveal those things to people I just met.
For example, say I’m playing an elven fighter who has been through some tough times. She was a member of the army during the Demon Wars, witnessed the loss of her entire legion, and still blames herself. Cliched backstory aside, it offers many opportunities for character development and interaction. However, if I reveal her whole backstory too quickly or to any character that asks, it makes her backstory look like a thrown-in cliche.
I should ask myself, how and when would my character discuss this topic, if at all. Would my character only open up to people who she feels might understand her guilt? Or maybe only when she trusts those she is around? It’s a complex situation once you start to consider all the motives and emotions behind it all.
So how do we work towards revealing backstory organically?
First and foremost, think about the implications of your backstory: Who else is a part of your backstory? What views would your character hold towards others? Would people recognize your character? And anything else that seems relevant.
Once you consider these things, speak to your DM. Let them know the highlights of your backstory but don’t divulge everything. Give your DM enough information so they can work with and incorporate your backstory into sessions. (By not telling them everything, you ensure they’ll be surprised too!) Maybe they can introduce an NPC from your backstory — someone close to you, a sibling or friend, or perhaps an enemy. Allowing the DM to interact with your backstory means that the world can better interact with your backstory.
Backstories are only as good as how well they are revealed, they mean the most when the care and thought are evident.
Character Actions
It would be hard to talk about character actions without mentioning class. When I tell you what class my character is, you will most likely immediately picture the signature abilities of that class. A barbarian will rage, a druid will shapeshift, and sorcerers will cast spells. These are the abilities available to them. Like just character concepts, classes help temper our understanding of what to expect.
Always take actions that pertain to your character, not your class. Class tells us what actions you have available to your character, but your character is the one taking those actions. Don’t think about what a wizard would do, think about what your character who is a wizard would do.
For example, if you’re a barbarian, you shouldn’t rage at every single thing just because it’s a feature of your class. You’ll want to instead ask what is your reason for raging? If there is a reason, rage away (that barkeep had it coming) but if not, best keep it to yourself to avoid cheapening the weight of raging. Setting hard rules can help keep a character’s actions feeling cohesive. I’ve even gone so far setting a rule where I could only rage when a party member is damaged, and at no other time. That’s a bit extreme, and if you’re uncomfortable with an idea like that, that’s okay — just remember your reason for taking actions, one grounded in your character’s personality and backstory, not their class.
Rogues are another example. They can steal and are most likely better at it than others. However, that doesn’t mean you should be stealing from poor farmers or from a king without reason. If you have an opportunity to steal a letter from the king’s desk that details the monarch’s corruption, by all means, do it, but don’t enter the castle and immediately try to steal that antique-looking vase. Mostly because, aside from someone who is a kleptomaniac, there are not many reasons for someone to steal so impulsively that it is the single most important thing to do at every point in time.
Packed down into a simple rule, your actions are your character’s to take. Your class should only influence what you do when you act.
Another aspect of actions that can help define your character, is how you describe their reactions to events. When a character is met with some event — a lightning strike, a dog barking, or an enemy charging them — their response can be, first an emotion, then a thought, followed by an action, then finally speech. Depending on your character, any or all of this sequence can be a believable reaction.
I call this a sequence because conscious or not, this is how reactions occur through the human brain, and using it helps to create more authentic interactions at the table.
For example, my character Malbar is surprised by a troll charging towards him, I might describe his reaction like this:
Malbar stumbles back; after a moment he catches himself, then readies his sword and shouts to the party, “Stand back, I’ll teach this beast a lesson!”
I use this principle all the time to add depth to my character’s reactions. (This is based on the concept of an Motivation-Reaction Unit, a tool that’s used in literary works for characterization.)
You don’t have to follow this sequence and I don’t think it is necessary to make a good character, but it is an interesting tool.
I don’t want to paint the picture that characters should be all business all the time or never attempt something that is considered far-fetched — just don’t do anything outside the realm of possibility. Remember that Dungeons and Dragons is a game that centers around collective narrative and fun. Do what your character would do as long as your fun isn’t at someone else’s expense.
I often hear players say something along the lines of “I just don’t have the imagination for D&D…”. This feeling can stem from a lot of things, like being new to D&D altogether or how you feel around your table. It’s okay to play it safe and be cliche because when you’re starting out or if you feel overwhelmed with options, playing familiar characters is a great way to gain confidence.
Once you’re ready, explore what possibilities are available to you, because everyone is capable of the creativity required to play. Use what you like, apply your own style, and remember to have fun!
