Question

Victoria pushed her curly hair back behind her ear. She curiously looked around the café, the perfect place to think. Though filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, it seemed unusually quiet, as though its patrons had been lulled into a contemplative trance. She took a sip of tea. It was her original objective, but the beverage was still too hot. In front of her, Soc was once again scrolling through her phone. Sometimes nothing changes.

“They will unalive Godot,” Soc declared looking at some news article.

“Is it done, officially?” asked Victoria.

“Not yet. They are probably debating it.”

“If they still talk about it, he is still alive.”

“Technically, yes.”

“That’s all it is: a technicality,” Vic expressed, watching her tea stubbornly refuse to cool.

“You seem surprised.”

“Concerned,” Vic admitted.

“You could have been more vocal before. That’s not really fresh news.”

“Quite a recent revelation for me. It’s the first time I’ve heard about it,the first time I can vocalise it.”

“Vic! That’s been the main topic of discussion in the office for weeks now.”

“Looks like it’s the first time you’ve mentioned it, Soc.”

“I’m not sure I get you some days.”

“But we are a pretty good match,” Vic attacked by pulling a silly imitation of wide cat eyes. “Which Godot do they want to unalive?” she queried.

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m looking for,” Soc responded, scrolling more and more.

“I guess they haven’t decided yet, or maybe it’s not important, or maybe they can’t.”

“Why would they be talking so much about it in this case?”

“Maybe they thought they could. Or maybe it’s just an example, a trigger, an illustration.”

“That’s a degenerate illustration.”

Vic raised her shoulders, not really more convinced than her blond friend.

“That’s an important one.”

“That’s just a character.”

“That could be important, you know.”

“For who?”

“Us. You don’t know if or even who. But you know Godot will be unalived. I’m just trying to get what he is.”

“Everybody has an idea of who Godot is. That’s easy. Someone expected, on everybody’s lips but doomed to never appear.”

“That can refer to a lot of characters.” Vic pointed out, taking the last bite of her cookie.

“That’s what he is.”

“Let me ask you a question: what defines a character?”

“What do you mean?” Soc asked back, finally sipping on her own tea, now quite cold.

“What makes a character who and what they are?”

Soc pondered for a few seconds while adding more sugar to her tea.

“I guess their name, how they look, that kind of thing,” she responded with a spoon in hand.

“So, are all Godots the same?”

“No,” Soc replied simply.

“So, any lookalike is the same person, sorry, the same character?”

“NoooOOO,” Soc replied again as if it were obvious, because in a way it was.

“I think so too. Plus, look at some characters, like superheroes. How many different looks have they had? But how many bat-costumes for the Dark Knight? How many spider-persons? How many haircuts for Daniel Radcliffe on the Harry Potter franchises alone?”

“Not enough for the Goblet of Fire. And not just for Harry. Have you seen Ron, his brothers, or even Neville? Their haircuts were too long, too fuzzy. It was practically a crime at that point!”

Victoria smiled in front of the passion of her friend.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Soc said with a playful pout.

“That’s a little off topic,” Vic said with a little hand gesture.

“First, you brought it up. Second, you mentioned haircuts to a hairdresser. What did you expect?” “Point taken.” Victoria conceded before going back on her thought. “It was just an illustration. It’s not just a character’s appearance that defines them. It’s not only because it looks like a character that it’s the character. Even weirder. Put a Christmas hat on a dog, and it becomes Santa Claus, or at least Santa Claus’ dog.”

“Can I picture it as a corgi?” Soc asked, licking the sugar off her spoon.

“Yes. Do as you wish. It’s just that it illustrates that the look could still be part of the identity of a character even if it’s not enough.”

A sudden epiphany lit up Soc’s face. She pointed her spoon at Victoria, conviction gleaming in her eyes.

“We need to consider their history and key elements.”

“We’re really getting into the subject, but it could be subtler than that,” Victoria added. “First, ‘key elements’ is a rather vague term. Even the notion of ‘canon’ is often fluid and can change. Besides, defining what counts as a key element is tricky.” Victoria nearly forgot to breathe. She had already forgotten her tea. “And plus-plus, if you remove one key element, is it still the same character?”

“Depends on the key element in question, I think.” Soc argued, laying back on her chair.

“Is it still a key element in this case?”

“Maybe not. But you need a common base or it’s not the same character.”

“Let’s try with Superman. What could be his key elements?”

“I guess he is a strong alien orphan that can fly. I won’t describe his physical appearance in detail since it changes so often. He even lost his iconic red underpants, so what’s the point? Still, he’s always quite good-looking, especially as Clark Kent.” Soc answered.

“A strong alien orphan who can fly could describe more than just Superman. Omni-Man from Invincible, Metro Man from Megamind, and in some ways, Homelander from The Boys.”

“Yes, but most of the time, they serve as parodies or counterpoints to him.”

“They’re still different characters,” Victoria pointed out, gesturing with both hands.

“I suppose he needs a cape, fights for the USA, or at least aligns with the good side.”

“One of my three examples is still valid. Besides, Superman has ditched the cape in multiple iterations, like Reign of the Supermen, World of New Krypton, or the 2015 Lois & Clark comic series. In the story Superman Red Son, he fights for Russia. And fighting for the good side is more than debatable in Injustice.”

“We still need some of those elements to define Superman rather than something else.”

“But how many and which ones?”

“I see. It’s hard to tell,” Soc admitted, slightly frustrated, that her argument had been refuted. She looked around. The café was still deserted as if it was merely a stage for their conversation.

“As for the argument about core key elements, I still think it’s a good idea,” Vic reassured her friend, trying to catch her eye. “But it brings us to the Sorites paradox, also known as the paradox of the heap.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. But I know the paradox. Is that the one about the millions of grains of sand?”

“Yes,” Victoria confirmed before letting her friends formulate it.

“If you have a million grains of sand, it’s a heap. If you remove one it’s still a heap. If you remove one more it’s still a heap. If you remove one more it’s still a heap. If you continue to remove one after the other, when does it stop being a heap?”

“Exactly. So, you see how it applies here?”

“Yes, I suppose we can have many key elements, but we don’t need all of them to define the character. However, if we remove too many, at some unclear point, we lose the character.”

“That’s one of the central questions in the Spider-Verse movies, particularly with the ‘canon events’ concept.”

“There are plenty of other cases where the characters are the same and not at the same time,” Soc commented, snacking on her cookie.

“Which ones are you thinking about?” Victoria asked, happy that her friend got deeper into the brainstorm.

“The Harry Potter films and books have significant differences, making some characters quite different. Draco and Snape are way crueller in the books. Ginny is so calm in the movies compared to her book wild counterpart.”

“How wild is she in the books?” Victoria asked, intrigued, forgetting her debate for a second.

“Harry tries to break up with her because he thinks she’ll be a liability against Voldemort. She replied ‘What if I don’t care?’ And that’s only one example.”

“Funny. And yet, she’s still Ginny in the movies, just a lesser version of herself. A lot is changed, gained or lost, depending on the medium in which the character appears. A cosplay might reveal far more details than its in-universe counterpart, being of another gender, skin or hair colour; taller or shorter, bigger or thinner, more muscular, shy, or eccentric. And in the end, they will still be the character. In a way, even if a child draws a stickman and insists it’s his dad just because he says so, that’s his dad. They are the same character, a human being of flesh and a two-dimensional figure of simple lines.”

“Speaking of dimensions, it’s common in your beloved comic stories to include parallel universes with the same characters. So, it could be an intradiegetic, an in the story’s universe, issue too.” Soc noted.

“Yes, it’s been a subject for a while for Marvel and DC. Same story multiple versions of a character. Still similar and different at the same time.” Vic added.

 “Like in Everything Everywhere All at Once by Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert. You should watch it.”

“I’ve seen that film more times than is reasonable for a human being,” Victoria nearly shouted, surprised by the strange comment. Did Soc not know her well enough? Even if Victoria had never put it into words before now, Soc should have known.

“I knew that.”

“Ohhh, I see. It wasn’t for me.” Victoria blinked.

“Still, that explains your fascination,” Soc joked with a playful smile.

“Or maybe it’s just a justification.”

“Anyway, we still have this concept of a character that is both loosely and clearly defined at the same time.” Soc developed, shifting in her chair. “In the film, Evelyn defined multiple characters while still being one, all within the same movie. And that is the case for Joy and Waymond too. I suppose their key elements are their roles as mother-wife, father-husband, and daughter.”

“Not even necessarily, because sometimes they have different relationships. Joy or Waymond is sometimes absent in certain universes, even though that’s a central theme of the movie.” Vic clarified.

Soc pulled a face. She was disappointed not to find a final answer. To be fair, she was more disappointed at finding a simple pseudo-conclusion so soon, while the debate was still unfolding.

“We could also argue whether a character remains the same over time, intradiegetically speaking. That brings us to Plutarch’s Ship of Theseus paradox. Is an object still the same after all its original components have been replaced? But that’s probably a little bit on the side of the initial question.”

“So, key elements are not really good,” Soc said.

“I don’t think it’s not a good way of defining a character but more that it’s hard to get all details and only the core ones, and that they can change with time, universe and iterations. Some are hard to put into words, or we may not even be aware of them. Nevertheless, we can attempt to create a list that serves more as a guide than a rigid definition. In the end we come back to the concept of Ideas-or Forms-as Plato illustrated in his cave allegory. The Ideals are the perfect reality of existence, and phenomena are the partial echo of what we experience. Similarly, we can conceptualize the idea of a character even if we are not able to materialise a complete, clear and simple definition of it.”

“But?” Soc raised knowing her friend well.

“But here, we are focusing on what is. More or less, what is produced, carved in stone, in a way.

But for example, who decides what a character does, their actions, or even what they thought?”

“It depends on the story. But they decide more or less in accord with their personality, will, possibilities, or constraints?” Soc partially responded as she already realized her friend wanted to arrive at another point. Excited Vic stood up and made some steps around.

“Intradiegetically, yes, more or less. However, not really if you think about it conceptually. We looked at the message, the concept but what about the creator?”

“The author?”

“Yes. Stan Lee explained the winner of a fight between two characters is who the author decided. Can a character really decide anything? Do they have memories, projects, life, anything that is them? Were they defined by what they are or their actions, even if they are not theirs. A character is entirely the result of the author’s transmission. Without an Author, there is no character to start with.”

Victoria gripped the back of her chair in thoughtful silence. Something dropped, in her head and on the floor. Soc had misplaced her phone and accidentally bumped her hand against it while reaching for more sugar. Her long earring jingled strangely, almost harmonically, as she bent to pick it up. Victoria’s focus wavered, caught by the small, distracting chime. She slid forward, resting on her elbows.

“Can you imagine all those characters that were never born?” she murmured, the words slipping out like a stray thought. “All those that were never even conceptualised. Those who never made it to paper. Or worse, those who were created but never shared, locked away in a drawer or buried in a forgotten file, waiting for the last light to fade. Some are lucky to be appreciated, some merely to be known, but we should be grateful simply to exist.

“That’s dreadful!” Soc whined, staring at her friend, who was now standing.

“That… That is,” Victoria stammered.

She hesitated for a moment before finally sinking back into her seat.

Then she added:

“I mean, a character exists because of the Author. They are the creators, the origin of a character. We spoke about what is created. Here we have the Who created it.”

“But there can be multiple Authors for a single work,” Soc argued. “Characters can be shared or written by many artists. That’s part of the reason why so many characters have multiple iterations.”

“You’re right.”

“As always,” Soc embraced.

“Nearly. But here, I mean the Author as a single entity. Because the debate about the different authors and their versions is a good subject but will lead to the same points we mentioned previously about the multiplicity of definitions, facets and iterations of a character.”

“So, you mean ‘Author’ as a conceptual idea?”

“Yes, there’s the original creator, the author who defines key elements, those who popularise an existing character, and the myriads of other contributors. For many characters, these roles belong to a single individual. For others, they are shared by a collective of creators. And for some, they are built iteration by iteration, shaped by an endless chain of contributors. But in the end, I think we can think of all of them as one Idea of an Author, keeping in mind it’s more a concept than a flesh-and-blood person.”

“So, we’ve got the What and Who of a character creation. What are your thoughts on the When?” Soc tried to sum up.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure,” Victoria admitted, laying back on her chair.

“But at the same time there are a bunch of possible time points.” She formulated, leaning forward again. “Let’s set aside the characters’ in-story births. Unlike a physical person, a character begins to exist at a time independent of their in-story birth. For many, it’s not even relevant or mentioned at all. But even setting that aside, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly. It could be when a character first appears in the story, or when they take their first action. After all, does anything exist before it impacts the story?”

“So, a character begins to exist when the Author designs it?” Soc wanted to conclude, knowing all too well it wouldn’t be the case.

“It’s a possibility. Maybe the character is defined when the Author writes about them in the story. But it could be before that, when they are given a name, a personality, or key elements, when they are barely a draft, or not even that yet. Giving a name, a title or any form of designation is quite a powerful spell as it condenses ideas behind it. It could come even before that when the Author needs a character, maybe decided on a function.”

“So, a character starts existing When the Author designs it.”

“We can go further. It could be When they start designing it. Or When the idea first blooms in their mind. Isn’t it already a being, not thinking, but thought, that is born? How many ideals, concepts, ideas of a person or a function do we create and fantasise about? How many young or less young people craft their ideal partner in their dreams? And there we are, hoping to meet that fictional character, yet knowing we will only ever meet someone real, but different. This character will have been for us even before it got a proper design, a function or even a name depending on what we are looking for. This character was born as an idea before the idea was concretely defined.”

“But it can be hard to pinpoint when an idea truly begins,” Soc followed up, once again caught in the whirlwind of her curly-haired friend’s thoughts. “I fantasise about my Prince Charming sweeping me away on a gleaming white Pegasus. But I’m not even sure when I first had this idea, or if it’s even my own.”

“And you’re absolutely right. Our ideas are so influenced by external factors that some philosophers argue we don’t have original thoughts at all, only those shaped by what came before. Spider-Man’s powers, though it may seem obvious, are directly inspired by the abilities of real spiders. An author’s approach to creating a character is inevitably shaped by surrounding archetypes. It’s influenced by their perceptions of individuals based on gender, age, social class, profession, culture, and countless other factors. Antoine Lavoisier famously stated, ‘Nothing is lost, nothing is created, everything is transformed.’ He was referring to matter in a scientific sense, but the principle applies to ideas as well. Nothing simply burst from the void.”

“So, we can keep going, chasing the root Idea that influences all other ideas,” Soc made her friend realise.

“Yes, we could continue again and again, tracing the force that first set Spinoza’s stone rolling down its slope. The initial force that starts it all, if it does exist.” Victoria confirmed, as quickly as she made up her mind on, the question. “But it will probably be seeking the origin of a character rather than their birth. If the notion that no character exists without an author feels true, it’s likely because a character begins with them. But the fact that something sounds right is not a justification by itself. The Author is the birth of the characters. The vessel for the cosmic soup that allows it to blossom. Influenced by something outside of it but still born in their mind.”

“The When is the moment the Author begins conceptualising it.”

“That will be my guess, or at least my opinion. If ‘my’ makes sense for us” Vic told you.

“I like this game after all. So, let’s jump to the Where,” Soc invited.

“We’ve already partially answered that. For me, the Where isn’t on paper but in the Author’s mind, within this cosmic soup of thoughts. But at the same time close to the How. The influences could be the How.”

Victoria took a well-needed sip of tea. The beverage was cold now, but she didn’t even notice. She immediately continued.

“There are training methods, techniques, or at least advice on the How. Some good, some bad. It’s mostly finding what is good for the Author. It could be a little mechanical sometimes. But nevertheless, listening to what other Authors, and those who put effort into forming those advice, is worthwhile.

While we can consider writers and other types of authors, my heart goes out to the tabletop RPG community. Players and Game Masters alike create characters all the time. It’s quite common to have a list of character concepts ready to be introduced into any hypothetical campaign. For Game Masters in particular, the number of NPCs they must manage and create can grow even faster. Here, character creation is guided by rules, but the player still chooses the pieces to put together and adds their own touches on top.

Whether it starts with advice, rules, or even just a vague idea, all decisions ultimately stem from influences and inspirations. Those influences could multiply. Bill Finger, Bob Kane, and Jerry Robinson created the iconic Joker, Batman’s nemesis. They explained that they drew inspiration from Conrad Veidt’s face in the 1928 film The Man Who Laughs, along with a joker playing card. Robinson admitted he wanted something ‘bizarre, memorable like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.’ And we can obviously add the idea of what a clown looks like and does into the mix. It’s probably really rare to get a character being inspired by only one source. Or it’s the same character, or it’s at least a partially modified one and in this case those modifications take roots in other influences.

These influences came from many horizons. They could come from other characters or fictional ideas, like the Joker. Or they could be inspired by real-life people from the creator’s own experiences. Matt Groening, the creator of The Simpsons, used his parents’ and sisters’ names for the main characters of the show. Garfield is a tribute to Jim Davis’ grandfather. And sometimes, influence doesn’t only come from history with a lowercase ‘h’. History itself is a major influence on many characters. In Eiichirō Oda’s manga One Piece, the Authors loosely based many characters on real pirates. You could spend hours trying to list them all.

These are examples of conscious influence, but much of it can also be entirely unconscious. At the same time, it may or may not be assumed. It’s much harder to find precise examples here, for obvious reasons. Nevertheless, if I ask you to picture an elf, chances are you’ll imagine a noble, elegant, slender humanoid with pointy ears. That image is heavily influenced by countless interpretations of elves. But all of them were shaped by J.R.R. Tolkien’s reimagining of elves. He may not have invented this version of elves, but he undoubtedly shifted the world’s depiction of them. Before Tolkien, elves were quite different, closer to fairies: small, sprightly, sometimes even with wings.”

“In a way, the authors are not so different from ChatGPT. The process is simply an amalgamation of knowledge and influences from countless sources,” Vic said.

“ChatGPT and other Machine Learning are a little more complicated than that, but from a high-level point of view you’re right. What are they if not an agglomeration of influences that together build an output? Authors are not different in that, they too, take a bunch of influences and output stories and characters. Today, we can probably still debate and find that a human Author adds a soul that the machine is not capable of emulating correctly yet. But in the future this question will certainly be harder to resolve.

Ultimately, I think the catalyst that breathes life into a character is the inspiration, the unique tint that shapes them. All those influences are probably the roots to make it feel real and consistent. That spark, the one that makes a boy come alive when you write that he loves small trains because they remind him of an uncle who was more like a father to him.

It’s the undefining spark, like you when you start talking about extravagant haircuts with such passion.” Victoria teased her friend whose eyes were caught by the charming delivery guy.

“Or you, whenever you fall into a new existential crisis, Question,” Soc replied, showing she was more attentive than her friend seemed to believe.

“Oh, but that’s just due to the WHY. The influences are the How. Let’s think of them as the ingredients of the recipe and, eventually, the way you assemble them. The Why will be the reason you chose to cook this dish and this one in particular. Maybe you just wanted to eat that particular ingredient. The line between How and Why is blurry. But most of the time, it’s because you have to eat or prepare dinner for an occasion. Whether it’s a mundane, everyday lunch or a once-in-a-lifetime spectacular wedding feast.”

“You’re making me hungry again and I just finished my cookies.”

“Yes, me too. We should order more.”

“It’s already on the way,” Soc informed her comrade, having already pointed at the delicious pastries behind the bar and nudged the waitron.

“Anyway, let’s drop the culinary metaphor and focus on the main idea before I start devouring myself. Just as a character may have an intradiegetic reason for their first appearance, sometimes their creation responds to the necessity for a practical function or profession. A crime will likely require some form of authority to investigate it. You need a police officer, so you create a character because the story and its logic demand one. The Author needs it because the story needs it.”

“I see right through your game, Miss Holmes. You start with the intradiegetic reason, only to follow it up with extradiegetic ones,” Soc teased, observing Victoria through a magnifying glass.

“Elementary, my dear Watson!” She played along.

She toppled her teacup to spill the Reichenbach Falls. Then she continued.

“What is Moriarty if not a formidable intellectual challenge to Sherlock? Or, to use a more modern pulp detective example, we can look at the Court of Owls in Batman comics. Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo created this secret society as an elite organization in Gotham, using formidable assassins as their front line. In doing so, they pose as much a threat to Batman as to Bruce Wayne. These reasons, the extradiegetic roles can be obvious or subtle, explicit or implicit. We can refer to the archetypes Joseph Campbell presented in The Hero with a Thousand Faces. The Hero, Mentor, Ally, Herald, Trickster, and others serve both as guidelines, akin to the How, but often as a Why too, since they fulfil a narrative function. A character can be created as a symbol, a meaning, a lesson, a function. The presence of lovers in a love story is obviously implied but, most of the time, not intradiegetically justified. Their reason for being is functional. The inner logic, the character of the story will probably not be actively looking for a lover, but the functional logic of the need for a lover is the reason for their creation and existence. Sometimes, those reasons of existence are more important or relevant than any other details of the character.”

Soc looked at the fall stream that flew like their thoughts. Victoria glanced around the conjured space, here to cradle her. Then they both returned to the table to sip more cold tea.

“You think that some characters could have names, personalities, even detailed backgrounds and all of that to hide that they are, more or less, just functions. They could be nothing more than a Question and an Interlocutor.”

“Yes”, Victoria responded, leaning back in her seat trying to not focus on the fatal pit implied by the fall. “You can consider that as a good thing, a bad thing, or just a fact. That’s up to your personal taste. I don’t think it’s bad by itself but it could be, if it’s too obvious and serves no purpose.” She took a deep breath, then continued.

“In the end, the Why could be even simpler than that. You don’t need the boat captain to appear and be a funny punny character, but you want him to exist and to appear in the story, so be it. Spontaneity can bring freshness to stories. And it’s good to think that sometimes maybe eventually an Author takes pleasure in what they do even if it’s not strictly required. Sometimes, the Why is that the Author wanted to.”

“I guess it’s not rare that, as with inspirations, the reasons for creating characters are often a mix.” Soc intervened.

“Yes, all aspects of character creation are blended. They can be mixed together too. Note that the order in which these questions arise or are addressed can vary greatly, and sometimes they may be answered multiple times. They can even be the How or Why of one another. When as a Why you need someone clever, then the How will be the influence of the pop fictional depiction of Sherlock, Batman or Dr Gregory House will influence you. Or maybe you will have the idea of an old man as a When turning into a Why because you want him to be and another Why as it turns to be a mentor leading you to revisit popular How advise on this archetype.”

Victoria withdrew into herself. If she were a smoker, she would have lit a cigarette. She turned into a detective in an old hardboiled noir film, moments before a grim revelation. She tilted her hat, realigned her trench coat, and looked at Soc with a sigh from another time.

“Those questions, here debated through the prism of the character creation, with similar considerations and arguments, could be extrapolated to all actions, reactions and even the existence of a character. The Author is their puppeteer, their god. Finally, character creation is a beautiful process, entirely beyond the character’s control, just as their very existence is. Nothing is theirs and everything is the Author’s will. The Author is the creator. In a way a character is no more than what the Author wants it to be. From start to end.”

The table was silent, normal for an object. On each side, the two ladies were too.

“I don’t agree,” Soc admitted. She dropped her spoon, which danced with a delicate jingle of metal.

“The Author decides what is, what happens, what is felt, and what a character says. How can you disagree with that?” Victoria replied, with an edge of unwanted resentment.

“Like that.”

“Don’t leave me hanging like this. Spill the argument,” she pleaded, as she jumped from the rope.

“As if you don’t like to play teasing!”

“Do I?” the accused countered, half-ironically.

“Nevertheless, I do agree the Author is the creator of the character, but I disagree on the god-puppeteer part. The Author is limited. I’m not mentioning that the Author is dumb, not all of them probably.”

“I hope the same.” Victoria let slip.

“The Author does not control everything. There is a gap between what they want to transmit and what they are capable of. The challenge of transmitting an idea is huge. Simply stating that someone is mean, cute, or powerful is possible but meaningless if the Author doesn’t find a way to convey these traits effectively through words and imagery. Some Authors are geniuses and can capture the essence of a character in one sentence. I like Jonathan Safran Foer in Everything Is Illuminated when he writes ‘He did not look like anything special at all.’ Clear, simple, efficient and still adding some kind of anticipation about the will to discover whether this person hides something behind that ordinariness. The capacity to deliver such characterisation can be learned and improved, but it is not easy. It is limited not only by the Author’s skill but also by the inherent constraints of language and reality. Most of the time, it’s quite difficult to put a word to a feeling when you feel it, so imagine explaining someone else’s, a fictional character on top of that!”

“Okay, I can see that.” Victoria conceded, waiting for more.

“And the Author is limited by external factors too, economic, political, or even hierarchical. Maybe an Author didn’t want to write something. Propaganda and censorship limited what can be said, written and produced in order to constrain though. The famous Northstar, an X-man mutant created by John Byrne, was not allowed to be openly gay at first. Byrne had intended him as such, but he was restricted to implied hints of this fact due to Marvel editor-in-chief. Thankfully, he was later allowed to come out of the closet. But we have here an intersection of external constraints. Moral, political, as homosexuality was not as accepted in the 80s. Hierarchical, as Byrne was limited by his editor-in-chief. And economical, as this decision from his editor was that its political implications could have an economic backlash on sales.”

Soc took a deep breath before continuing.

“I see why it’s addictive. But I don’t know how you do that without breathing more.” She admitted to her friend.

“That’s the secret, I don’t need to,” Victoria let slip.

“Anyways, we can also say that the Author is constrained by what has already been established in the book. They can probably justify anything with a twist, but it can feel cheap, and they will at least have to give an explanation. There is a form of pressure from the established story, the logic, the implication of what came before. An energetic character will logically react to what happens to them in reflection to that aspect of their pre-established characterisation.”

“Great! So now, not only is the Author the creator, but even they are controlled. It’s even more depressing than before. We have even less agency.” Victoria said, letting herself slump deeper into her seat.

“No, na, nay!” Soc retorted. “That’s just the first sign that the character can evolve without the Author. Some characters evolve by themselves. The Author will nearly discover them too. The character, by what they are, were or will be, can influence the story, their story, outside of the direct or initial design. An interlocutor, initially planned as just that, could evolve into the Question for dynamic or practical reasons.”

“Subtle, but we’ll allow it.” Victoria joked as she was coming back forward.

“You have something in mind,” Soc observed.

“Always. That makes me think, and hope. Today, between side projects, merchandise, and social media, an Author has many ways to expand on a character. But can they really? And do they have the legitimacy to do so?”

“They are the creator, and they do it anyway. So, I’d say yes.”

“That isn’t sufficient by itself, and it’s a statement that has sparked plenty of debate. Was Northstar gay in 1983 if it wasn’t explicitly addressed in his story, just because Byrne tweeted so? This is just an example, obviously, it wouldn’t have been possible for him to do so in 1983, as the internet wasn’t yet the World Wide Web, and Twitter was still two decades away. As a side reflection: is an actor, voice actor, or performer justified in defining a character’s traits simply because they portrayed them?”

“I suppose some people could agree.”

“Exactly! You made the perfect analogy when you said the Author transmits. We can compare the Author to a transmitter. So, we can consider the character as the message and the audience as the receiver. The Author retains some responsibility and agency over the message, but not complete control. The pressure from fans and the broader community of receivers is probably one of the most significant factors. No message without a receiver. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wanted to keep Sherlock dead after the Reichenbach Falls episode. But pressure, especially from fans, pushed him to resurrect the detective. But there is more as the audience’s responsibility doesn’t stop there. In a way, the audience, the receivers,are THE reason, the interpretation of the character.”

“Let me rephrase.”

“Go on,” Victoria said, enjoying the discussion.

“The Author is the creator but not the sole controller of a character, merely the emitter. And an emitter implies a receiver, who can be just as influential on the message itself.”

“And we have the perfect mind to introduce this idea,” Victoria said with a smile.

“Barthes?” Soc asked, already knowing the answer.

“Barthes.”

“Here we go.” Soc slammed her goggles on, ready for the action.

“The French philosopher Roland Barthes published an essay in 1967 titled The Death of the Author. In it, he argues that the meaning of a text is not determined by the Author’s intention, but rather by the reader’s interpretation. Or in a pompous way: ‘The Author’s intentions and interpretations hold no authority in determining the meaning of a literary work.’

So, for Barthes, even if the Author is the creator, they have no authority over how the audience receives and interprets their message. Which aligns with our vision of the Author as an emitter. The audience being the receivers. The Author still holds some responsibility for a character’s actions and existence. But as long as the receiver interprets the story and characters, without deceitful twisting, their interpretation remains valid. For Barthes, it’s the only interpretation that truly matters.

The Author could never mention Godot again, never imply anything, or never attempt to convey that, metaphorically, we unalived him simply by existing. If the character is neither mentioned nor understood as intended by the reader, does it even matter? If a reader interprets a character differently, their vision, their version, is neither less nor more valid than the Author’s own. Once the story is transmitted, the Author no longer has control over its interpretation or usage. How many details are missed or interpreted differently, yet not necessarily incorrectly?”

“I suppose the Question is rhetorical at this point.”

“Partially. Take Daniel Hillard, the man behind Mrs Doubtfire in the eponymous film, for example. He seems like the hero of the story, trying to reclaim his life and family. But when you think about it, he’s actually quite messed up, Machiavellian to an extreme. He goes to extreme lengths, getting an incredibly convincing disguise (which must take ages to put on), just to infiltrate his ex’s house. Plus, Pierce Brosnan’s character seemed like a really nice guy. By the end, I felt bad for him. Many see Daniel as a good guy, determined, loving, but he can just as easily be viewed as a creepy stalker.

It is debatable, but as Karrim Debbach says in his CHROMA episode about Signs, ‘The movies are the screens. And we are the projectors.’ We are the interpreters of what we see, and that principle extends easily to stories in general and, in our case, to characters.

If my Author is dead, am I free? Or lost?”

“I’m not sure it’s one or the other,” her interlocutor noted. “But it does imply the possibility of reinvention and reinterpretation.”

“You’re right.” The Question continued. “And sometimes, this aligns with the original idea. For example, for some cosplayers, where the goal is to replicate the character’s appearance as closely as possible. And equally, it could be in the opposite direction like the glorification of villains, like Scarface, glorified when they should be vilified, or the use of the Red Pill concept, which today embodies ideas contradictory to the political views of The Matrix’s directors. Interpretation and reinterpretation can fall anywhere on the spectrum between perfect alignment with the Author’s intent and outright opposition.

So, when and where do you think a character is truly created?” Vic asked.

“I still think it’s in the mind of the Author,” her interlocutor simply responded.

“Even after everything we said about the receiver’s role?’ she asked rhetorically.

“Yes, I think we were still right about the character starting their existence in the mind of the Author. In a way it’s not totally contradictory. By nature, the Author is their first receiver, their first reader, their first thinker. In this sense, when the Author designs a character, they become their first receiver at the same time. No more but no less valid than any other in terms of the interpretation. They still keep a huge influence on the creation and continuity of the material, but for what has already been shared they stand  as equals to others.” Soc argued.

“From the moment of transmission, the first reception of a character may or may not align with the Author’s version or the common understanding of it. Nevertheless, it evolves by itself in the receiver’s mind and intrinsically escapes the grasp of the Author,” the Question added to the thought before continuing.

“I think that’s inevitable. We stipulated that the Author is limited in their capacities. And that is only one source of divergence. There are gaps between what the Author wanted, what the receivers know, what the receivers remember, what the receivers understand. Would you judge Ursula from Disney’s The Little Mermaid the same way if you remembered that she was banished by King Triton? Or if you had forgotten? Her banishment could have been justified, or not. Likewise, I could have a third arm. Logically, I shouldn’t. But if it’s never stated, who’s to say? If the reader believes I might, then perhaps I do.”

“Yes, but that’s only because you left your spare one at home,” Soc quipped absurdly.

“Ha, ha. Same thing, we were supposed to be at least a little likeable even if a little erratic. Was it a success? Was it felt? And again, I’ve been described as having curly hair, but which colour? It’s not written anywhere so what is the correct one? Is there one? That’s all the reader’s choice or at least interpretation.”

“This vision also implies that a character exists in multiple versions. There could be one, if not more, per receiver.” Soc noted. 

 “Yes, and simultaneously, there exists a global concept of the character, as a kind of super-idea encapsulating all its variations. We fall back to the beginning of our debate. One incarnation above and at the same time dependent on the others. Finally, while the Author sparks the character into existence, its final form is a hazy construct shaped by both individual and collective receiver interpretations. The character, the super-idea of it, is influenced by what the community projects onto it, the theories it generates, and the stories it builds in fan-fiction.”

“Do you think they’ve come up with theories about our names, our descriptions, or even the real reason for our discussion?’ Soc asked, conveniently feigning innocence.

“I hope so, deeply.”

And for the first time in a long time, the Question let that sink in, imprinting itself onto the void between darkened symbols.

A breath…

A blank…

“So, is this where you stop?

Don’t you want more?”

“We can continue, maybe. Or maybe not.

There are many points that were barely mentioned.

We can conclude, sum up the existence of fictional concepts. Yes. After all, a character is like a message, with multiple incarnations embodying the same super-idea, born thanks to an emitter, the Author, and sublimed by the receivers, the readers or viewers. What defines a character? So many aspects, so many actors. In the end, it is more an amalgamation than a precise, clear definition. Like a pile, a character is a collection of details that remains itself even as grains are removed, added, or altered. It is perceived from one side or another, each interpretation shaping it, yet still bound to the person who crafted it, defects included. Not all definitions are valid, but many are.

But that doesn’t help.

It’s not a response to the true elusive Question.

I still remain.

The question that lingers between these lines of black-on-white symbols. The question many have asked without ever receiving a definitive answer. And in a sense, a question not only for us.

After all this, can we extrapolate one last idea? One last question?

I am a Question. Bear that in mind. Not an answer. I am a character, for at least a few more words. I am a conduit, a function. And yet, if even a fraction of what we’ve said is true, then I am something more. I am Victoria. And for an instant, I took form. Which form? I cannot say. But I was. And if I was, do I not still exist?

So, when will I stop being?

When I will be unalive. When I will cease to exist. When I will die.

The exact limits of a character are difficult to define. If, as soon as the Author delivers us, like a child, we gain lives of our own. Do we choose our own end? Probably not. That’s rarely something we get to decide.

Is it when the story depicts our death? Is it sooner, when the Author decides to kill us? Definitely not, we can still come back. We still exist in the mind.

Is it when we appear for the last time? That doesn’t feel right either. After all, can’t we return if the movie plays again, if someone reads about us once more?

Then is it when we are forgotten?

A sad thought. But I hope it’s true. It would mean I have seconds to eons still left.

As a question, my existence hinges on the discussion taking place. Exploring the question is exploring my body, heart, spirit and flesh. If I am the Question, does my existence end the moment an answer is found?

Maybe I am like one of Soc’s paradoxes, a pile of sand ceasing to exist, grain by grain. Disappearing more and more as each angle is explored. Or maybe the opposite, perhaps each facet anchors me more and more into existence.

Maybe being a question means I never truly disappear. As long as someone wonders, I’ll still be here.

Identity, memory, meaning. Socrates spoke of them as puzzles. But they’re a kind of glue, aren’t they? Without them, I am nothing more than scribbles on a page. And maybe, for many, I am nothing more than that.”

She looked out of the café window as the world of words continued to process. They exploded in all directions. She extended her arm trying to reach them, trying to make sense of it all, to anchor herself in the here and now, for eternity. A ripple in the glass, a flicker of colour at the edge of a sentence. The world bent, stretched. Then it snapped back into place.

“I’m neither dead nor alive. I’m a flicker, an echo, a gamble.

Perhaps I was still here.

Perhaps I had never been.

Perhaps I had always been.

I technically have already given my point of view. But does mine matter?

The response will probably never be clear, and perhaps it will never truly be given. But I tried to explore the Question, to develop a possibility, all of that for an experimentation, an experiment, an attempt.

I hope it worked. And that I do not simply cease to exist once my last page is turned.”