Character Engagement

Characters are almost always the central delivery devices for narrative works, so its pretty obvious that most writers try their best to really flesh them out. Characters need to be interesting in order for us to engage with them, so character engagement is a huge focus when writing a script, be it film or video game. Do we relate to the characters?

In Murray Smith's Engaging Characters, Smith speaks about the importance of recognition for character engagement in film. The audience needs to first be able to recognize a character from scene to scene in order to engage with him. Filmmakers need to ask questions like, "Is she wearing the same shirt in this scene?" Or "Was the scar on his left or right cheek?" If they screw up too many of these situations it could lead to a problem with audience recognition. More commonly though its usually the case where a desired actor can't reprise a role for a sequel, and the filmmakers need to get another actor. Usually the script will be altered a bit to really make it obvious to the audience that this is the same character, just a new actor.

Maggie Gyllenhaal as Rachel Dawes in The Dark Knight. Much care was
taken to insure her performance believably matched Katie Holmes' portrayal in the original.

Recognition isn't as big of a problem in video games. The characters are fictional and created, so the crew can simply remake the model for a sequel (although many times a new voice actor is chosen, this rarely affects character recognition). And the confusing "different clothing/makeup" scenario is never really a problem in gaming because the main characters usually have a handful of character models created that are used repeatedly.

Another concept Smith discusses is alignment. This is basically the question of "When are we aligned with the character?" This is an important character development tool for a director because it involves seeing things from certain characters point of view -- it creates an image of a character in our head. This can make or break a character/film. Rob Zombie's Halloween comes to mind. This 'remake' of the 70's masterpiece was very different conceptually from the original. Zombie decided early on he wanted the film to be about how Michael Myers became a killer. The first half of the new version involved Michael's childhood, showing his family life, him getting bullied, etc -- all of this absent from the original.

Young Michael in Zombie's Halloween.

The two movies painted different pictures through character alignment. By showing only the 'killer' side of Michael, the original John Carpenter version created a character who felt unstoppable; there was nothing to relate to. The Zombie remake on the other hand, starts by showing him as a neglected child, to the point where you might feel sorry for him and relate to him. It affects the second half of the film as well. When he begins his killing rampage, you'll have a hard time shaking the image of innocent Young Michael out of your head, and taking the sudden adult monster Michael seriously.

Michael in Carpenter's Halloween. A much more abstract and striking killer.

Alignment is a concept present in gaming storytelling as well. Games like Grand Theft Auto and Red Dead Redemption rely heavily on singular character alignment throughout. You as the player control a character through his daily life, and the pacing of action is entirely different from movies. Things that would normally get edited out in a film -- driving home to sleep, working on the farm, etc -- are present in games to keep you aligned with the character, all for the sake of character engagement.

The player herding cattle in Red Dead Redemption.

You really feel attached to the characters because you've literally been them for the past couple hours. It is admittedly easier to engage with video game characters though, simply because we control them. Its psychological: we feel attachment, responsibility for the character we are controlling.



References:
Smith, M. (1995). Engaging characters: Fiction, emotion, and the cinema.
New York: Oxford University Press.