Silent protagonists have been a core tenet of video game design for decades. Originally, they often appeared out of necessity – older platforms (especially from the 8- and 16-bit eras) simply didn’t have the capability to include voice acting. It really wasn’t until the late 90s that voice acting started to become widely popular in video games.
And even though it’s become slightly less common over time, silent protagonists still persist in games today. Sometimes it’s a matter of budget and resources (often a problem for various indie developers), and sometimes it’s an intentional choice, aimed at creating a sense of immersion through the player’s ability to project onto the character.
I recently tweeted about silent protagonists in video games, asking whether or not people liked them and why. I got a wide range of answers – with almost as many people liking them as being indifferent or having an “it depends” opinion, and the people who strongly disliked them were generally a smaller slice of the group. As I was talking it over with everyone, I realized that there was an even more interesting discussion to be had than I’d thought at first.
Now, this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about the subject – in fact, I’ve hashed it out with my roommate many times since we tend to fall on opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to how we view silent protagonists. I often find them jarring, but she’s more likely to fully embrace them and may even prefer them at times.
When we’ve talked about it in the past, our opinions on the matter have often come down to two major influences: our personalities and our earliest experiences with gaming. Aside from some handheld and early PC gaming experience, my first home console was a PS2 – and I grew up on the likes of Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy X – both of which had a full voice cast. However, she grew up around primarily Nintendo experiences, and to this day is a big Zelda fan.
But I’m getting ahead of myself – before I start breaking down the two arguments (for vs. against silent protagonists), let me explain exactly what I’m talking about. Primarily, I’m going to be looking at three main types of protagonists: Characters that players create, pre-set characters that don’t speak at all (even though everyone else around them does), and pre-set characters that don’t speak out loud, but occasionally have dialogue choices that let the player pick an (albeit silent) response.
I also want to get into things like how the camera and the player’s view affects your experience with a silent protagonist (i.e. first person vs. third person views, what the camera does during dialogue sequences, etc.) but I’ll talk more about that later.
Characters you create
So first off, the overwhelming consensus that I found amongst the people who responded to my tweet was that many of them prefer a silent protagonist in games where you as the player fully create your own character. This can be as simple as choosing from a number of different male/female options (like in traditional Pokémon games) or as complex as being unleashed on a full-fledged character creator (like I recently experienced in the Nioh 2 beta – which is actually a really interesting example and I’ll tell you why in a minute).
These player-made characters are often the gamer’s conduit for interacting with the game world first, and a fully fleshed-out character second. The lack of a voice or a pre-determined set of responses and personality traits doesn’t necessarily detract from the player’s experience in any way, shape, or form. They’re your avatar – your way of affecting your immediate surroundings. And in a good game, you become them (or vice versa, take your pick).
For me, the best example of this type of character that springs to mind are the protagonists from FromSoftware’s Soulsborne games. In particular, I’ve played a lot of Dark Souls III in my time – and never once did I ever even stop to notice my character’s lack of voice. It wasn’t until I started talking to people this week that I stopped to think about it.
Part of it has to do with the way the story is told in Dark Souls games. Largely, it’s told silently – through various elements in the environment and through item descriptions. But the most immediate and tangible aspect of the storytelling comes in the form of conversations you have with NPCs scattered throughout the world.
These conversations are, of course, one-sided – your character simply listens to what the others have to say. But the camera does something interesting during these dialogue sequences – or rather, it does nothing. It just sits behind your character at whatever angle you left it. It essentially just lets you look over your character’s shoulder, almost voyeuristically.
It doesn’t cut away to show different angles of each face – including your own. It doesn’t set you up to expect a response from your character by looking at their face while they’re listening. The dialogue simply happens, and when it’s done, it’s done. But that isn’t always the case with cameras and silent protagonists – but we’ll get to examples of that later. (Also, you can thank my friend Justen for getting me to think more closely about the camera than I have in the past.)
Now, before I meander away from the Souls – or in this case, the Souls-like – genre, let’s go back to that comment I made about Nioh 2 for a moment. (Also yes, I know, Nioh is not a Souls game. But it does use a lot of the tenets of that Souls genre, albeit heavily mixed with a Ninja Gaiden influence – let’s just accept my segue and move on!)
My point is that Nioh 2 is a really interesting example for this discussion about player-made, silent protagonists. Nioh 2 is shaping up to have a really deep, well-made character creator with all the bells and whistles (including “voice” selections that are basically just a series of grunts or yells, and if you don’t find playing around with those settings hilarious, then you’re simply more mature than I am).
However, the first Nioh had a set protagonist: William (or as I like to call him, Billy). He had a pre-determined personality with voice acting to boot – so now this sequel (or actually, this prequel) creates a strange contrast since the developers have gone in a completely different direction.
Now, of course the full game hasn’t come out yet so I can’t say for sure how it’ll all shake out in the end. But having played both the alpha and the beta for Nioh 2, I thought it was an interesting example to point out nonetheless: from a pre-built character to one of your own making. Which will the community prefer? I’ll be interested to find out.
Alright – besides the Souls games, other examples of player-made characters that people brought up were Monster Hunter, Fallout, and – most commonly – Elder Scrolls. In particular, the latter two got me thinking even more about the camera since you can play these games in first person – especially for something like Skyrim.
Again, this is another game design choice that’s often aimed at enhancing immersion. In effect, it almost erases the protagonist and makes the players themselves the agents for interacting with the game world. The only part of the protagonist that’s usually visible in this sort of view is their hands. For some players, this first-person view through the lens of their created character may enhance their immersion even further.
But for me, it hasn’t always worked out that way for a couple of reasons. First, the majority of my early gaming experiences were in third person. That’s how I knew how to interact with a game. Anything different, and manipulating the camera just became something that felt weird. Second, the first person view isn’t how other forms of media outside of gaming have generally conditioned us to identify with a medium – making it a unique, but somewhat strange, experience.
Think about it – when you watch a show or a movie, the main character is someone you can see. Essentially, it’s shot in third person (with some exceptions – generally reserved for more artistic or experimental films and the like that play with first person voyeurism or even fourth wall breaks). All our lives, we have been taught – consciously or otherwise – to identify with protagonists that aren’t necessarily “us.”
We don’t become them, rather, we’re led to identify with the parts of them we see in ourselves, or maybe the ones that we idealize and wish to see in ourselves. We’re often groomed to like – or even dislike – them, even if they’re about as different as they can get from who we are in reality.
But a video game, unlike a film or a t.v. show, has the unique opportunity to break that mold. We do get to become that protagonist. So in that case, having a blank slate can lend itself to players’ imaginations. There’s no pre-scripted personality to get in the way of them inserting themselves into the game.
However, some players may find it jarring. It’s not what they’re used to. The silence and the lack of reaction or personality can serve to break their suspension of disbelief since that simply isn’t how people really act. In the end, whether that silent protagonist makes or breaks your immersion is based on your past experiences, personality, and preferences.
Pre-set characters
Alright, I think I waxed poetic for long enough about all that. Moving on – let’s talk about silent protagonists that have already been created for you. Now these ones, I personally have a little bit of a harder time “believing,” if that’s the right word.
And yet, these characters are incredibly popular in a genre I play more often than any other: JRPGs. They’re not exclusive to that category by any means, but I can think of plenty of examples from the past couple years without even trying: Joker from Persona 5, the “Hero” from Dragon Quest XI, Byleth in Fire Emblem: Three Houses – I could keep going.
(Silent protagonists are also common in action-centric games like metroidvanias or even FPS like Doom. However, in this section I want to focus on how silent protagonists affect heavily story-driven games, and if you’re playing the likes of Doom for the story… more power to ya.)
Now, as you can see in the list of RPGs I just rattled off, this type of silent protagonist often comes with a name, but in most cases you’re able to change it to whatever you want at the start of the game. They’re almost half-made by the devs, purposely left somewhat incomplete so that you can project yourself into the empty spaces.
Perhaps one of the most famous examples of a silent but pre-set character in all of gaming is none other than Link from The Legend of Zelda. And the most recent notable example comes from Breath of the Wild – a Zelda game with a colorful cast of characters, backed by voice acting (except, of course, for Link himself).
Unlike the character I created in Dark Souls, Link has name, he has a face. You can recognize who he is – but his personality is largely left up to your interpretation. When I say his name, the image you conjure is probably very different than when I say some other characters’ names. For example:
Aloy, from Horizon Zero Dawn. Kratos, from God of War. Arthur Morgan, from Red Dead. Sora, from Kingdom Hearts. Geralt, from The Witcher.
When I say these names, if you’ve ever played the games they come from, you know exactly who I’m talking about. What they look like, what they sound like, how they act and react to different types of scenarios and emotions. They have an immediately recognizable personality. Does that make them better than their silent counterparts?
Ultimately, I don’t think there is a universal answer. For some people, it’s yes. For others, it’s no. For others still, it depends on the type of adventure those characters are set in and how their stories are told. For myself, I know what my personal preference is, but for the gaming community at large I can’t say one way or the other that an Aloy or a Kratos is always better (or worse) than a Link or a Byleth. They’re just different.
Now, before I bring this thing to its conclusion, I want to dig a little into two examples: the Hero from Dragon Quest XI and Joker from Persona 5 – both games that I love and have played extensively. To start – let’s go with the protagonist from DQXI.
This guy is somewhat infamously a blank slate – especially since he was added to the Super Smash Bros. Ultimate lineup a few months ago. When they added him to the game, they didn’t even have a name for him – they just ended up calling him “Hero” (which, if you ask me, would’ve sounded a little less weird if they’d at least called him the Luminary instead – but bygones, I guess).
And while I absolutely love DQXI (I even own it for both PS4 and the Switch), this is going to sound a bit critical so bear with me. I think Hero is a good example of a silent protagonist that doesn’t quite work as well as others. He’s almost silent to the point of absence – other characters will talk to or about or around him, and he has no recourse of response.
In a game like this, the cast is full of charm and you’ll most likely end up falling in love with them. But the personality that you feel and remember long after your stopped playing comes from your party – meaning all the characters around Hero, not Hero himself. The likes of Veronica and Sylvando are so vibrant that by contrast, Hero is almost forgettable. Yes, he’s your conduit for interacting with the game world – but he almost gets overshadowed in his own game.
Perhaps I’m speaking a bit too much from my own bias – I recognize that. For some people, they may not even notice this sense of unevenness that I’m picking up on, and as a result it won’t bother them nearly as much, if at all. But let’s go back to one detail that makes this example stick out more than some others: that pesky camera again.
Something that DQXI is guilty of is having the camera move around during cut scenes and dialogue sequences. While this is happening, it will occasionally focus on Hero’s face – almost creating the expectation of a response on his end. At best, he’ll smile or something like that since he can’t talk. As a result, the camera brings more attention to his silence than some other protagonists are subjected to.
It’s not quite as bad as watching a Twilight movie (*staring intensifies*), but there is quite a bit of staring when it comes to Hero. Does it ruin the experience? No, not at all (at least in my opinion). But it may lack some of the depth that you’ll find with the characters you play as in other games. And that leads me to my next point – let’s contrast how this works with a silent protagonist that has frequent dialogue options.
The last example I want to focus on is Joker from Persona 5. He’s another one where you can name him (although he has “canon” names for the anime & manga), and he’s essentially your blank slate to project onto throughout the duration of the game. However, there are a lot of scenarios in P5 that offer you a series of dialogue choices. This added element helps you role play as the character a bit better since you are feasibly reacting as him in-game.
However, even this implementation gets a bit funky – in P5’s case, the dialogue choices don’t generally affect the story much. They may change a character’s reaction to you slightly depending on what you choose to say, but your choice is layered with another consideration: a point system (of sorts).
Your dialogue choices as Joker will often affect your social link stats with other characters, making it a bit less of a true “role playing” element than these dialogue trees are in other games since you’re effectively trying to choose the “best” response so that you can up your confidant level with certain characters.
Does the ability to choose Joker’s (albeit non-voice acted) responses help you identify with him and shape his character a bit more? Yes, I think it does. But are dialogue options always used effectively as a role playing element? No, not always. Sometimes (like in P5), they determine your “points” with other characters so many players will hesitate to mess around and choose what they really want. And sometimes (even worse), they may have no effect on the game at all.
By contrast, I just wanted to highlight how another game handles dialogue options differently than P5: Greedfall. Greedfall just released a couple months ago, and many have called it a spiritual successor to BioWare’s Mass Effect games. I won’t really get into the whole spiel of what the game’s about – but if you’re curious you can check out our review here.
But my point in bringing up Greedfall is that it has branching dialogue options for your character that let you respond to various situations in any number of ways. You can choose to be snarky, or coy, or witty – and your character’s stats will even affect which dialogue options are available to you (meaning that if you level up your intelligence, your character may see a new solution).
This impact of a player’s choices having a more tangible effect on how certain events unfold is a pretty well-made system. How you invest in your character’s stats, what you choose for them to say, and even how you dress them can change a situation very noticeably, making it a sound RPG system. However – interesting to note is that every dialogue option is voice acted. The game’s protagonist isn’t a silent character.
So I guess my question for you guys is this: What matters more to you? The ability to choose a character’s dialogue, or the distinction between voiced vs. non-voiced? If the character is silent, is it easier or harder for you to imagine yourself in their place? Or if it’s voiced, does the inherent tone and personality injected into the role by the voice actor impede your ability to insert yourself into the game?
To wrap things up, I’ll reiterate the question that started all of this: Do silent protagonists still have a place in modern video games? Ultimately, I believe the answer is yes – they still do, and always will (at least for some players). However, I’ll also say that I believe they’re used more effectively in some games than in others.
Alright, that’s it from me! But we’d love to hear your thoughts on the matter – so make sure to hit us up over on Twitter!
I can be super nerdy about novels, anime, and sports too (especially football - Clemson and NE Pats all the way).
Also, may or may not be an 80 year old woman trapped in a 20-something year old body. Who knows?