The desire to become game characters is, in essence, where the whole role-playing genre started. That desire is what created our favorite protagonist, The Nameless, Non-Speaking Hero. If you’ve played Dragon Warrior, Final Fantasy, or really anything from the 8-bit era, you know him well. He has little-to-no backstory^[1], he was either prophesized to come or a descendent of the last Legendary Hero, and he’s not fun to argue with because he never says anything back.

Things have changed greatly since then^[2]. Your modern heroes have tragic pasts. They’re amnesiac. They all grew up together and simultaneously encountered a plot twist that erased their memories. The point is, these characters are characters rather than mere sprites.

They also have a lot to say. A LOT.

Ephemeral Fantasia^[3] was just about the worst game ever made, and the fact that they decided to include a non-speaking hero only made it worse. See, if you’re going to make a non-speaking hero, he has to be really generic. EF’s Mouse^[4] is a combination musician/thief. It’s an unusual character—it’s not a no-frills Random Hero Dude. The lesson here is, as usual, if you’re going to do something, go all the way. Giving him such a specific job/class is defining part of his character. If you want us to role-play—I’ll pretend my character is saying what I would say in a situation like that—then let us role play—give us the freedom to do that. Putting such a restriction, however, denies us that privilege.

The non-speaking hero can work in rare instances, but handling of it is very tricky. First of all, the character has to be, as said, generic—his adventure has to somehow be able to be superimposed on our own lives. Second of all, the fact that the character is mute has to be very obvious to both the player and the characters themselves—either as a fourth-wall-breaking joke, or as a condition.

The Chrono series takes the first route. The fact that Crono, and later Serge, is mute is treated as one big in-joke^[5]. Chrono Cross goes so far as to give Serge the class of “Silent Protagonist”^[6] Both characters are simple enough—everyday ordinary kids living in peaceful villages that go on an adventure. Tsugunai: Atonement takes the second route. Your character is an adventurer whose soul is separated from his body; in order to reunite the two, he must possess troubled people and fix their problems. The muteness makes sense here—we’ll assume that ghosts can’t talk; very few characters in the game can even see him. Additionally, the main character is, truthfully, not the most important character in the game—the citizens of the town in which the game takes place are the more important ones. The main character’s story is, in all honesty, a frame tale in which to tell these shorter stories.

I realize all along I’ve been calling our friend the “nameless, non-speaking hero”, but that’s really a misnomer. Ever since Dragon Warrior we’ve been able to name our characters. When I say “nameless”, I really mean that there’s no official name for him. The Descendent of Erdrick has no Real Name—he’s Nigel or Link or Enix or Nester or whatever you decide to call him. As a possible throwback to the genre’s roots, however, games generally come with the ability to rename characters—the inability to do this is a recent invention due to voice acting and the need to give characters diminutives before they encounter that memory-erasing plot twist.

However, and this I find hilarious, the same purists decrying the main character’s having a script find time to bash renaming. “Cloud is Cloud; it’s not right to name him after yourself,” they’ll say^[7]. But I, of course, disagree. I always change names when I can; I enjoy seeing the names of my friends and me during long, melodramatic moments. And really, who can ever pronounce “Zidane” anyway? I know I haven’t figured it out yet.

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Footnotes

1)In an interesting contrast to the later games of the series in which we learn everything about the main character from what his favorite book was when he was 7-and-a-half years old to the day he learned the meaning of the word “escrow”, the original Final Fantasy plops four heroes in front of the castle and doesn’t really concern itself with who they are or how the hell they got there. For all intents and purposes, they materialized out of thin air; it doesn’t really matter how they got there.Return

2)Many purists don’t like the direction RPGs are going—they say that console RPGs have nothing to do with role-playing and that defined characters are against the whole concept. I don’t spend much time with purists.Return

3) Hey! I’m bashing Ephemeral Fantasia! Good for me! Dear Christ, I hate that game.Return

4)I hate characters named Mouse that are not mice. It’s a pet peeve of mine. God, I hate Ephemeral Fantasia.Return

5)I’m also reminded of Jak II, in which one of the running gags is that Jak never said a word in the original Jak and Daxter and has suddenly found himself with the ability to speak.Return

6)Merci beaucoup, Le Roi Zeal.Return

7)Or, depending on which message board you’re on, they’ll say, “omg you *** i *** h8 u calling him u ****** **** my big fat **** n00b” Return