There exists a pattern in protagonists, a pattern that has been alive as long as literature itself: most of the time, they are exceedingly boring. Sure, they’re kind and noble, brave and courteous, willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good and fight to protect those they love, but they have no flaws and no personalities. We want them to win, but we don’t see them as anything but a tool to push the plot forward.
However, in recent years, main characters that are more flawed and realistic, often called “antiheroes,” have been gaining popularity. They are realistic, have fascinating personalities, and greatly improve the stories they star in. But perhaps their defining trait is that, objectively speaking, they’re more evil than good. We can see these in characters like John Wick, Kaz Brekker, Loki, and the Punisher—they’re incredibly messed-up people, but we somehow sympathize with them. If these characters are written well, we cheer for them despite their dubious moral choices. The reason why we do this is rooted in the realism of these antiheroes.
How much we like a character really depends on our own preferences. Often, we respect characters that we aspire to be like, and are fond of characters with similar personalities to our own. This is why paragon protagonists are appreciated but are rarely favorite characters; we look up to them, but they have a distinct lack of personality. Aside from traditional virtues such as empathy and courage, they’re usually flat and bland because most other traits are associated with more evil characters. For instance, characters who are clever are often tricksters or thieves, and ones who are ambitious end up becoming supervillains. However, characters that manifest these traits are often more realistic and compelling—and most of the time, these characters are antiheroes. When we see things from an antihero’s point of view, we tend to be more excited and involved in the story because we can relate to them.
However, this ability to relate to antiheroes is limited to their personalities. We’ve never actually tortured or murdered anyone, so wouldn’t the villainous actions of antiheroes only serve as a hindrance to their popularity? The thing is that the psychology of villains (or at least semi-villains) arouses a peculiar, twisted curiosity in our minds. We all want to know what drew the arsonist to the flame or what made the serial killer snap; we want to understand what happened to them and what goes on in their minds. We can’t (and shouldn’t) relate to their crimes, but we love studying antiheroes’ thought processes and motivations. This can be dark and unsettling at times, which limits the scope of the antihero’s fame as compared to the more palatable “good guy,” but it makes antiheroes far more compelling.
There is no such thing as a perfect protagonist, and there will always be some exceptions to the general principles laid out here. “Good” and “evil” protagonists aren’t in competition with one another; there isn’t a certain type that will eventually be proclaimed as superior. However, perhaps the greatest reason the more “evil” side of the spectrum is gaining more recognition now is because its stark contrast from the typical main character serves as a breath of fresh air after decades of “good”-dominated literature, movies, and TV shows. As human beings, we’re always looking for something new, and when we find that something, there is always a huge fuss over it.
Antiheroes have their drawbacks, as all things do, but their peculiar yet unique way of presenting stories has captured the attention of viewers worldwide. Their colorful personalities, chilling actions, and the difference in the way they see and interact with their worlds are at the heart of why they’ve proven to be so successful. This doesn’t make them the best type of character there is—after all, there is always the skill of the writer and the viewer’s personal preference to take into account—but they’re a fascinating way to revitalize a stagnating aspect of stories: the main character.
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