10 Steps To Hero

by Sacha Black

  Guides are seen across fiction, but they do make more appearances in stories aimed at a younger audience. Younger adults and children naturally need more guidance. And with the advent of the ‘orphan’ child trope in Young Adult fiction, guides are required more often to provide that parental role.

  The three functions

  I mentioned that the guide has three main functions: teaching, protecting and gifting to the hero.

  Function one - teaching the hero

  The hero needs teaching because, at the start of the story, he’s in the dark, naive and flawed. Naturally, through the course of reaching and subsequently overcoming obstacles, the hero will learn about himself. But guides help speed up the process, teaching the hero the correct way of living, how to use magic (or any other relevant skill) and helping them a significant way through their journey. They also serve a vital role in highlighting parts of the hero’s self to him.

  In Dracula by Bram Stoker, Van Helsing is Johnathan Harker’s guide. On the surface, Van Helsing teaches Harker about Dracula’s weaknesses, like light and garlic, and that to kill him he must stake him through the heart. This is the shallowest level of teaching. But Van Helsing represents another level of conflict in the novel, which highlights Harker’s inner conflict: Harker must let go of the assumption that society is prim and civilized and accept that there are wild inhuman beasts in the world if he wants to defeat Dracula.

  Function two - protecting the hero

  Protecting the hero is twofold: either the guide pulls a Yoda and teaches the hero about the force and the ways of Kung Fu. Or he throws himself under the metaphorical bus. The latter is symbolic of the hero being ready to move on to the next part of the story. The guide is no longer needed, so instead of just letting the hero waltz off into the haloed sunset, he lemming-style sacrifices himself. Lord of the Rings’ Gandalf battling the Balrog creature is an example of this, although that particular example is contested. Half the cast of Harry Potter make the same sacrifice, all of them having been in the guide role: Sirus, Dumbledore, Lupin and even Snape. The last example is Obi-Wan Kenobi, who cops it at the end of Star Wars so Luke can escape.

  Function three - hero gifts

  The last major function a mentor can play is to give the hero a gift. If I were the hero, I’d want a pair of Christian Louboutins or maybe a pair of Valentino Rockstuds, but then I have expensive taste. And sadly, for the hero (and me), we’re not Cinderella, which means our mentor won’t come bearing a little shoe-shaped box of joy.

  The hero is getting a pair of socks or, more likely, the magical sword of destiny his guide happened to have in his back pocket.

  Functional hero gifts only, please.

  Oh, and one more thing. Your guide can’t just give the hero the gift of villain-defeating awesomeness. Where’s the fun in that? Gifts must be earned, Padawan, because realism is essential. Any grown adult knows nothing comes for free. Unless you work in a boys’ club, no one gets handed a promotion at work based solely on their friendship with the boss. For most of us rats in the race, promotions have to be slaved after earned by delivering on goals or projects. It is the same for the hero and the guide. The hero must prove his worth before receiving the holy grail. The concept of earning doesn’t mean the hero has to achieve something tangible; the act of sacrifice (when the sacrifice is something of value) can mean the hero has earned the right to the gift. Likewise, committing to a cause, or the act of realizing one’s flaws are all examples of how the hero can ‘earn’ his gift.

  Giles from Buffy The Vampire Slayer is another example of a guide that serves all three functions. He guides and teaches Buffy, imparting knowledge from his bookwormish tendencies, trains her in combat and always finds that magic spell, long-lost item or piece of ancient text just in the nick of time. Oh, and while he didn’t die per se, he did get knocked out. A LOT.

  The ‘other’ guides

  We’ve brushed up against the goody two shoes of the guide world, but what of the other ones? You know, the ones your mom warned you about. The guide that slides you the pack of fags and give you a lockpick so you can sneak out after hours. Yeah… my kind of guide.

  The negative guide

  The negative guide is one who, instead of encouraging the hero down the right path to heroism, manipulates the hero and leads them into the descent of darkness. But a true hero will only go so far down that path and typically they’ll avoid crossing the line into the villainy. However, there’s no harm in having a little fun while on the descent. Depending on your genre, your hero might dabble in black magic, forbidden techniques or how to fight and assassinate their enemies.

  The most frequent motivation I’ve seen for the negative guide’s actions is their desire for someone to continue their legacy, which tends not to be a good one. They deem the hero (for whatever reason) to be worthy of continuing their legacy. Like positive guides, negative ones are often very patient, although this is usually because they favor pushing the hero through the same hard graft they had to undergo in their youth.

  One of my favorite negative guides is Tyler Durden from Fight Club. Tyler appears to The Narrator during a bout of extreme insomnia and depression. Tyler seems innocuous at first. He’s a traveling soap salesman who happens to have the same briefcase as The Narrator. Tyler asks The Narrator to hit him and, after some persuasion, he does. They end up in a fist fight which provides some catharsis from the depression. But is the first step down a very slippery slope that leads to kidnapping his own girlfriend and the blowing up of several skyscrapers.

  Other examples of negative mentors include the potions textbook in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Harry innocently thinks the spells are fine until he uses one and it severely injures Draco. Other examples include Littlefinger (Lord Petyr Baelish) in A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin. John Milton in The Devil’s Advocate, Alonzo in Training Day and Gordon Gekko in Wall Street.

  The invisible guide

  While teaching the hero knowledge and skills is most often the primary purpose of the guide, it is not the sole purpose. One function I particularly like in fiction and film is the guide as the conscience. In Dexter by Jeff Lindsay, Dexter has an invisible guide: his moral code, bestowed to him by his original guide, his father. Dexter has internalized his guide’s code. In the TV show of the same name, we see Dexter ‘thinking’ and experiencing apparitions of his father embodying his thoughts and helping him with his moral conscience and decisions.

  Other examples include Merlin from King Arthur, Haymitch from The Hunger Games, Gandalf from Lord of The Rings, the Fairy Godmother from Cinderella, Tyrion Lannister from Game of Thrones, Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Sebastian the lobster from The Little Mermaid.

  The obstacle function

  Purpose of the function

  The primary job of the obstacle archetype is to make sure the hero is worthy to move on to the next part of the story.

  Why it’s needed

  For your hero to change and progress through his development arc, he must be challenged at numerous points in your story. The obstacle archetype is the bringer of these challenges. Their function is to test the hero to establish whether or not he is ready (and by ready I mean has learned enough or changed sufficiently) to pass on to the next part of the story.

  These characters are rarely villains, at least not in the early stages of your novel. If your book was a video game, your villain would be the final boss your hero faced. But as with any video game, at the end of each level there is always a test or mini-boss. In your novel, these mini-bosses are your hero’s obstacles. In the first and second acts of your story, these challengers will present as your villain’s henchmen or other secondary characters. Then, as your story reaches its climax, the final obstacle should always be the biggest, badassist (hush now, it’s definitely a word) villain.

  As we’ve already covered, characters often wear multiple function hats. These minor characters and obstacle bringers are no different. Challenge
rs in particular can turn into allies.

  Example: M’Baku from the Black Panther

  M’Baku is the leader of the Jabari tribe in Wakanda. He opposes T’Challa’s reign over Wakanda, and when T’Challa is going to be crowned, M’Baku challenges him for the right to the crown. They fight, and T’Challa wins, earning him the right to the crown and the beginnings of M’Baku’s respect. When Eric Killmonger enters Wakanda and threatens their way of life, M’Baku sides with T’Challa, saving his life and bringing his armies to help defend Wakanda, thereby becoming an ally to T’Challa.

  Often on the surface level, these obstacle characters will present with a simple physical or mental challenge for your hero to overcome, whether it be a fight, a series of spells to un-magic or a set of questions to answer. However, you can also add a subtext to the test by considering the web of connectivity and using the test the obstacle character poses to represent a moral or thematic weakness in the hero. What better test to create than one that tests the very weakness the hero is trying to overcome? And therein lies the reason why it’s a test: the hero must overcome this personal thematic limitation in order to move on.

  One of the most frequent methods of beating a challenger’s test is to embody the obstacle. Think about crime or thriller movies and how often the hero is captured and then steals a uniform and dresses like the bad guys to escape. In the most recent Ant-man movie, Hank dresses like an FBI agent to escape a cell.

  Other examples of challenger characters include the Oracle and Morpheus from the Matrix. The Oracle tests Neo by sowing a seed of doubt about what his true nature is. The test is for him to prove he can overcome the doubt she planted and therefore embody the power he needs to defeat Agent Smith. The Oracle also plays the function of the mentor at different points in the film. Likewise, Morpheus, another character in the same movie, plays challenger at the start of the film. He makes Neo choose the red pill or the blue pill to decide his fate but, like the Oracle, Morpheus plays multiple functions. At times he’s also a mentor and an ally.

  Fluffy the dog in the first Harry Potter book serves as a challenger. In fact, the entire series of spells woven to protect the philosopher’s stone, while not embodied characters, are all representations of the challenger function. They pit Harry, Ron and Hermione against their wits.

  The last example is Sir Didymus, the half-fox, half-terrier guard of the bridge in the movie The Labyrinth. Sir Didymus fights Sarah and her friends, and it’s not until she out-logics him that they can cross the bridge.

  Hermes function

  Yes, for those of you who like mythology, this is a nod to the Greek emissary and messenger god.

  Purpose of the function

  Hermes archetype characters have vital information that they bring to the hero. Often the information they share leads to a change or plot development, the most significant of which is usually the ‘call to action’ for the hero in the first act of your story.

  Why it’s needed

  Particularly for reluctant heroes, a Hermes character can deliver that final piece of information that nudges your protagonist into action, motivating them sufficiently to take up the call to action. If you look at a range of fiction, guide archetypes often wear the Hermes hat. Likewise, sometimes a villain can be their own Hermes. Heath Ledger’s depiction of the Joker is an excellent example of a villain that’s his own messenger. Equally, Ned Stark’s famous ‘winter is coming’ phrase is a Hermes-style message.

  But, like the other story functions, the message function doesn’t have to be a character: the invitation to the ball in Cinderella is as much a Hermes function as R2D2 is in Star Wars. Other examples include Effie in The Hunger Games and the Oracle in The Matrix.

  The messages themselves tend to fall into three categories:

  Good news, i.e. help is coming; I’ve found the location of the sword of destiny

  Bad news, i.e. winter is coming

  Prophecies, i.e. the prophecy Professor Trelawny gives Harry about his destiny with Lord Voldemort

  In the original Matrix film, the Oracle is both guide, obstacle and Hermes. She tells Neo that he is not ‘The One’, which, at the time, is a devastating blow. But it makes him fight harder and, in the end, it’s the nudge he needed to realize he is The One.

  Sly fox function

  Aside from a villain, the sly fox is one of my favorite archetypes because they’re so interesting to write.

  Purpose of the function

  Their purpose is to feed doubt into the plot and, specifically, into the hero’s psyche.

  Why it’s needed

  Doubt raises the tension of the story because it creates questions in the hero’s (and reader’s) mind. We’ve already established that humans (in other words, readers) have to have their questions answered, which is why this function is so useful for hooking readers. The result is that the reader has that page-turning impatience and burning need to get to the end of your story. This archetype is one of the most flexible, as almost any character can embody it across any genre.

  Sly foxes can come in two forms: positive and negative.

  A positive sly fox only appears to cast doubt early on but, in the end, they are allies, anti-heroes, lovers or other ‘good’ characters.

  For example, in romance the love interest is usually a sly fox. Whether intentionally or not, the protagonist will (usually as a consequence of personal insecurities) deem her lover’s behavior as erratic or fickle and this will cause doubt over his true feelings for her. This ambiguity creates psychological or moral barriers in your protagonist’s mind that they need to overcome through your plot.

  A negative sly fox appears to cast doubt early on but, for good reason, they turn out to have ulterior motives, a dark side and/or are out to attack the hero. For example, Glenn Close plays Alex Forrest in Fatal Attraction. She’s an example of a negative sly fox, turning from a perfect lover into a sadistic killer.

  One of my personal favorite sly foxes is Keyser Soze from The Usual Suspects, appearing to be a disabled gentleman throughout the entire film until the end, where his true nature as the perpetrator is revealed. Nikolai Lantsov from Leigh Bardugo’s Grisha series appears for the first half of Siege and Storm (book 2 in the series) as one character, but his true nature as a prince isn’t revealed until a crucial point in the book.

  Other examples of sly foxes include Scar from The Lion King, who makes Simba believe his dad’s death was his fault; Dr. Elsa Schneider from Indiana Jones and Prince Hans from the Disney movie Frozen.

  The joker function

  Purpose of the function

  The joker is the character that brings mischief, play and fun to the story. Symbolically, it can represent the need for change within the story. They will usually sprinkle your plot with banter and slap the arrogant characters into shape. If there’s a romance plotline, sometimes your hero might be faced with an arrogant love interest, which will result in cat and mouse flirtatious banter, cutting the lover’s ego down to size.

  Why it’s needed

  Other than the surface level need to inject humor into your story, it’s worth remembering that, even with a joke, there’s often something meaningful behind it, and the same can be said of the joker function. Their wit can call attention to hypocrisy, deceptions and dishonesty. Much like an anti-hero, these characters don’t change. While an anti-hero has an arc of sorts, these characters serve as the catalyst for change in others by drawing subtle attention and pressure to the wrongness in the hero’s world.

  Other examples of jokers include Timon and Pumba from The Lion King, Loki from both the mythology and the Marvel movies. Dobby the house elf from Harry Potter, The Grinch, The Cat in The Hat, Merry and Pippin from Lord of The Rings, Odin and Loki from American Gods by Neil Gaiman and The Artful Dodger from Oliver Twist.

  Villain function

  Purpose of the function

  I won’t belabor the functionality of a villain in this book. Suffice to say, if your villain is weak, so is you
r story. If you want a detailed understanding of how to master your villain, read 13 Steps To Evil - How To Craft A Superbad Villain. The purpose of the villain is to drive the need for change. The villain represents the source of conflict and the overarching barrier that the hero must defeat. Note that I say ‘barrier’. The villain doesn’t need to be a person or being. Quite often you’ll find a symbolic embodiment of an antagonist in the form of a personal flaw or a government or society that’s represented by a character. For example, The Capitol in The Hunger Games is a non-physical entity that controls the districts. The President of The Capitol (Snow) is a physical embodiment of The Capitol.

  Why this function is needed

  The villain’s story purpose is to prevent the hero from achieving his goal. In functional terms, the villain creates conflict and tension, thereby injecting pace into your story and forcing the hero through the plot to defeat him.

  One of the major differences between the villain function and the others is that the villain function (in whatever form it takes) is needed consistently throughout the plot. Now, the reason I said in whatever form is because a villain doesn’t need to be physical. You could, in theory, write a story without a villain, but only if you retain a significant conflict in your story. If you do, replace ‘villain’ with ‘conflict’.