Joel Phillips
Sep 2, 2004, 07:32 pm
<img src="http://x-mencomics.com/xfan/images/columns/ritlogo.jpg" align=left width=115 height=100 border=0 alt="Reeding Into Things">By Joel Phillips
The Group Dynamic
It’s been observed many times before by many people that, whenever a group of people is brought together, certain dynamics establish themselves. People fall into different roles within the group as it requires them to, and changes in the group’s membership change the roles each person plays. There are many theories that have been formed and tendencies that have been observed in the group dynamics of real people, but I won’t wade into that here.
In comics, groups have their own rules. It seems that the perfect group size is four or five members: enough members to be a team instead of just a team-up, but few enough members to give everyone plenty of face time and really flesh out their characters. What’s more, under this set-up each of these members fulfills a role:
There is the solid figure, characterized by intellect, strategic savvy, or sheer force of will, if not a combination of the three. This figure is usually, but not always, the leader, and is generally male. Interestingly enough their defining characteristic is usually a relatively bland personality when compared to their teammates.
There is the kind-hearted figure that is the emotional center of the team unit. All personal relationships flow through them, one way or another. This figure is usually the group’s token female.
There is the cocky go-getter. Almost always male, usually with a penchant for wise-cracking and displays of foolhardiness passing itself off as courage. This figure is often a ladies’ man as well.
There is the curmudgeon. Again, almost always male, with a chip on their shoulder about something. Either unliked by their teammates or, more commonly, liked just fine but frequently made fun of for their sour attitude.
Finally, there is the outsider. In four member teams, this is usually the curmudgeon, thus explaining the cause of their surly attitude. This person is a part of the group, but there is something that separates them from the other members as well, and it is elevated to a prominent character trait.
Don’t believe me? Let’s look at some examples:
The Fantastic Four: Reed is the steady intellectual, bland but central to the team. Sue is the emotional center, the one all relationships go through (in the case of the FF, quite literally: Reed is her husband, Johnny is her brother, and Ben is the guy who carries the torch for her). Johnny is the cocky jokester, with more bravado than brains. And Ben is the curmudgeon and the outsider, both because of his inhuman appearance and the fact that he is the only member of the team that is not a literal member of the family.
Or take the founding JLA. Flash is steady but kinda dull, so he finds himself with leadership thrust upon him. Black Canary is the emotional center because of her flirtatious relationship with Flash and GL, and because her connection to the JSA provides much of the inspiration for the team’s formation, choice of name, and methods of operation. Green Lantern is the cocky one, Aquaman is the sourpuss, and the Manhunter is the outsider.
Or how about the Avengers, a great example of how people change roles as the line-up changes. Ant-Man started off as the bland but steady guy, with the Wasp as the emotional anchor. Iron Man was cocky, Thor was sour (though he was cocky too), and the Hulk was the outsider. When Hulk left and Cap came in, the roles had to change. Cap was a good replacement for outsider, having come from another time and carrying all that guilt around over Bucky’s death, but he quickly became the new steady guy because of his talents as a leader. This left Ant-Man with no clear role, since his relationship with the Wasp prevented him from being a proper outsider, and besides which Cap was filling that role too.
When the originals were unloaded, look at the new team that formed. Cap was steady leader and outsider still, with the outsider role only increased by surrounding him with all newbies and former villains. Wanda became the emotional center, Pietro became the grump, and Hawkeye became the hotshot… the dynamic was restored.
Now look at the teams that didn’t really work. Take the original X-Men, whose title never properly took off under that original line-up. You had Mr. Steady in Scott, and Ms. Emotional Center in Jean, but that’s where it ends. Hank, Warren and Bobby were all jokesters, and all fairly foolhardy or cocky in their own ways. But none of them was a grump, and none of them was an outsider. Those are critical roles, because they give the team its drama and its pathos, and without them the team feels less complete.
Contrast that with the “new” X-Men. With Sunfire and Thunderbird in and out, and Scott elevated to elder statesman of the new team, we’re left with five new members. Peter was the straight-laced steady fellow; Ororo was the emotional one, both as a center of male attention and as a fiery, assertive female presence; Kurt was the quipping ladies’ man; Logan was the sourpuss; and Sean, older than the other new X-Men, was the outsider.
So what is it about these roles that makes them useful? The answer is actually incredibly simple: having clearly defined, easily understood roles is the best way to make readers care. Especially when you remember who the original audience for superheroes were: young boys. Often uncomfortable, socially awkward young boys, looking for some good, old-fashioned escapist literature.
Think about it:
The outsiders (Thing, Hulk, Martian Manhunter) are the entire “lesson” of superheroes rolled into a single character. Do the variations from person to person make us different (a negative connotation) or special (a positive connotation)? We watch these good-hearted misfits gradually gaining acceptance, being brought out of their shells, making friends, being proven valuable to the team… as we can all be. It’s an uplifting message directed at a group of readers in need of that exact message.
The curmudgeon bleeds into the outsider role so often, and so well, that much of the message is the same. Besides which the curmudgeon is never an actual jerk, is he? Deep down he’s really noble (Wolverine) or sweet (Thing) or generally good-natured, but wanting to be better understood (Thor). There are layers beneath the surface, waiting to be explored and better understood. And in the meantime he provides some comic relief when he’s the butt of jokes, he provides some cool when he takes down the bad guys with a bad-ass quip, and he provides some tension when he just can’t stand the stuff-shirt tactics of his teammates anymore.
The cocky hotshot (Human Torch, Green Lantern, Iron Man) is the young reader himself, or who he so badly wants to be. He’s fun, and funny, and good-looking, and adventurous, and brave, and the ladies love him for it. He’s the escapist role. Honestly, if you were a young man, early teens, who would you rather be: forensic scientist Barry Allen, or hotshot pilot Hal Jordan? Awkward farmboy Peter Rasputin, or swashbuckling acrobat Kurt Wagner? Quirky research scientist Hank Pym, or millionaire playboy Tony Stark? Are these choices even hard?
The steady, reliable, intelligent males (Reed Richards, Cyclops, Captain America, the Flash) are father figures, and what the young boys want to grow up to be. They are all-knowing, able to deal with any situation. They are pillars of their community. They are strong, unwavering. They command great respect. And in case you missed it, it’s them, and not the playboy, that gets the perfect girl in the end. (Brains are better for getting the girl than bravado… do I detect another message for the youth?)
The emotional center (Sue Storm, Black Canary, the Wasp, Jean Grey) are not women by accident. They’re gorgeous, and they’re warm, and they’re able to be strong one minute and saying “oh Reed” as they melt into your arms the next. They are, in truth, a far more realistic depiction of an adolescent male fantasy girl than the scantily clad sex kittens of later generations. Emma Frost might be a kick for a weekend, but so is Jean Grey … and you can bring Jean home to meet your parents.
All these lessons, all these roles, all these deeper meanings, they all serve one purpose: to make you care. Care about the characters, care about their interactions, care about what they have to say about you and yours and what you’d hope to be someday. The faster they can get you to that point of caring, the quicker they’ve got you hooked. And we all know hard it is to get UNhooked once they get a hold on you.
But there’s one point about these roles that makes them even more interesting. Look at what all those line-ups have in common: they are first line-ups, or major roster change line-ups. There are far more line-ups that have existed throughout the history of these franchises, most of which are not so easily separated into clearly defined roles. So what does that tell us? It tells us that these roles are far more important when establishing a team then they are in actually having a team.
But why is that? That’s harder to say. My personal theory is that the roles are so fundamental, covering all the possible character interactions in the least number of characters, that they can’t help but assert themselves in any new team that forms; yet as characters grow, their relationships with one another grow to a level of complexity that no longer fits within the strict boxes of these roles.
There’s nothing wrong with creating characters in the moulds listed above, so long as that mould doesn’t become a cage. Does “curmudgeon” cover the depth of Ben Grimm as a character? Is the Martian Manhunter just an “outsider”, and no more needs to be said? The great strength of these characters is that they began in a mould that makes them easy to identify with, and they grew from there into more complex creations. As long as writers remember that the easy, one-line character type is a starting point, and not a destination, there’s no reason why more great characters can’t grow from these beginnings for many years to come.
<center><hr width=75%></center>
The best thing out on the indie front this week is from Image, and it’s called Tales from the Bully Pulpit (http://www.comixfan.com/xfan/forums/showthread.php?p=889246#post889246). It’s a 64 page, full color OGN, which tells the story of the time traveling adventures of Teddy Roosevelt and the ghost of Thomas Edison. They fight Nazis and martians and everyone has a grand old time. It’s fun and hilariously, wildly funny. It’s also just $6.95, so be sure to check this one out!
The opinions expressed in this column are solely those of the writer, and are not reflective of ComiX-Fan or its other staff in general.
The Group Dynamic
It’s been observed many times before by many people that, whenever a group of people is brought together, certain dynamics establish themselves. People fall into different roles within the group as it requires them to, and changes in the group’s membership change the roles each person plays. There are many theories that have been formed and tendencies that have been observed in the group dynamics of real people, but I won’t wade into that here.
In comics, groups have their own rules. It seems that the perfect group size is four or five members: enough members to be a team instead of just a team-up, but few enough members to give everyone plenty of face time and really flesh out their characters. What’s more, under this set-up each of these members fulfills a role:
There is the solid figure, characterized by intellect, strategic savvy, or sheer force of will, if not a combination of the three. This figure is usually, but not always, the leader, and is generally male. Interestingly enough their defining characteristic is usually a relatively bland personality when compared to their teammates.
There is the kind-hearted figure that is the emotional center of the team unit. All personal relationships flow through them, one way or another. This figure is usually the group’s token female.
There is the cocky go-getter. Almost always male, usually with a penchant for wise-cracking and displays of foolhardiness passing itself off as courage. This figure is often a ladies’ man as well.
There is the curmudgeon. Again, almost always male, with a chip on their shoulder about something. Either unliked by their teammates or, more commonly, liked just fine but frequently made fun of for their sour attitude.
Finally, there is the outsider. In four member teams, this is usually the curmudgeon, thus explaining the cause of their surly attitude. This person is a part of the group, but there is something that separates them from the other members as well, and it is elevated to a prominent character trait.
Don’t believe me? Let’s look at some examples:
The Fantastic Four: Reed is the steady intellectual, bland but central to the team. Sue is the emotional center, the one all relationships go through (in the case of the FF, quite literally: Reed is her husband, Johnny is her brother, and Ben is the guy who carries the torch for her). Johnny is the cocky jokester, with more bravado than brains. And Ben is the curmudgeon and the outsider, both because of his inhuman appearance and the fact that he is the only member of the team that is not a literal member of the family.
Or take the founding JLA. Flash is steady but kinda dull, so he finds himself with leadership thrust upon him. Black Canary is the emotional center because of her flirtatious relationship with Flash and GL, and because her connection to the JSA provides much of the inspiration for the team’s formation, choice of name, and methods of operation. Green Lantern is the cocky one, Aquaman is the sourpuss, and the Manhunter is the outsider.
Or how about the Avengers, a great example of how people change roles as the line-up changes. Ant-Man started off as the bland but steady guy, with the Wasp as the emotional anchor. Iron Man was cocky, Thor was sour (though he was cocky too), and the Hulk was the outsider. When Hulk left and Cap came in, the roles had to change. Cap was a good replacement for outsider, having come from another time and carrying all that guilt around over Bucky’s death, but he quickly became the new steady guy because of his talents as a leader. This left Ant-Man with no clear role, since his relationship with the Wasp prevented him from being a proper outsider, and besides which Cap was filling that role too.
When the originals were unloaded, look at the new team that formed. Cap was steady leader and outsider still, with the outsider role only increased by surrounding him with all newbies and former villains. Wanda became the emotional center, Pietro became the grump, and Hawkeye became the hotshot… the dynamic was restored.
Now look at the teams that didn’t really work. Take the original X-Men, whose title never properly took off under that original line-up. You had Mr. Steady in Scott, and Ms. Emotional Center in Jean, but that’s where it ends. Hank, Warren and Bobby were all jokesters, and all fairly foolhardy or cocky in their own ways. But none of them was a grump, and none of them was an outsider. Those are critical roles, because they give the team its drama and its pathos, and without them the team feels less complete.
Contrast that with the “new” X-Men. With Sunfire and Thunderbird in and out, and Scott elevated to elder statesman of the new team, we’re left with five new members. Peter was the straight-laced steady fellow; Ororo was the emotional one, both as a center of male attention and as a fiery, assertive female presence; Kurt was the quipping ladies’ man; Logan was the sourpuss; and Sean, older than the other new X-Men, was the outsider.
So what is it about these roles that makes them useful? The answer is actually incredibly simple: having clearly defined, easily understood roles is the best way to make readers care. Especially when you remember who the original audience for superheroes were: young boys. Often uncomfortable, socially awkward young boys, looking for some good, old-fashioned escapist literature.
Think about it:
The outsiders (Thing, Hulk, Martian Manhunter) are the entire “lesson” of superheroes rolled into a single character. Do the variations from person to person make us different (a negative connotation) or special (a positive connotation)? We watch these good-hearted misfits gradually gaining acceptance, being brought out of their shells, making friends, being proven valuable to the team… as we can all be. It’s an uplifting message directed at a group of readers in need of that exact message.
The curmudgeon bleeds into the outsider role so often, and so well, that much of the message is the same. Besides which the curmudgeon is never an actual jerk, is he? Deep down he’s really noble (Wolverine) or sweet (Thing) or generally good-natured, but wanting to be better understood (Thor). There are layers beneath the surface, waiting to be explored and better understood. And in the meantime he provides some comic relief when he’s the butt of jokes, he provides some cool when he takes down the bad guys with a bad-ass quip, and he provides some tension when he just can’t stand the stuff-shirt tactics of his teammates anymore.
The cocky hotshot (Human Torch, Green Lantern, Iron Man) is the young reader himself, or who he so badly wants to be. He’s fun, and funny, and good-looking, and adventurous, and brave, and the ladies love him for it. He’s the escapist role. Honestly, if you were a young man, early teens, who would you rather be: forensic scientist Barry Allen, or hotshot pilot Hal Jordan? Awkward farmboy Peter Rasputin, or swashbuckling acrobat Kurt Wagner? Quirky research scientist Hank Pym, or millionaire playboy Tony Stark? Are these choices even hard?
The steady, reliable, intelligent males (Reed Richards, Cyclops, Captain America, the Flash) are father figures, and what the young boys want to grow up to be. They are all-knowing, able to deal with any situation. They are pillars of their community. They are strong, unwavering. They command great respect. And in case you missed it, it’s them, and not the playboy, that gets the perfect girl in the end. (Brains are better for getting the girl than bravado… do I detect another message for the youth?)
The emotional center (Sue Storm, Black Canary, the Wasp, Jean Grey) are not women by accident. They’re gorgeous, and they’re warm, and they’re able to be strong one minute and saying “oh Reed” as they melt into your arms the next. They are, in truth, a far more realistic depiction of an adolescent male fantasy girl than the scantily clad sex kittens of later generations. Emma Frost might be a kick for a weekend, but so is Jean Grey … and you can bring Jean home to meet your parents.
All these lessons, all these roles, all these deeper meanings, they all serve one purpose: to make you care. Care about the characters, care about their interactions, care about what they have to say about you and yours and what you’d hope to be someday. The faster they can get you to that point of caring, the quicker they’ve got you hooked. And we all know hard it is to get UNhooked once they get a hold on you.
But there’s one point about these roles that makes them even more interesting. Look at what all those line-ups have in common: they are first line-ups, or major roster change line-ups. There are far more line-ups that have existed throughout the history of these franchises, most of which are not so easily separated into clearly defined roles. So what does that tell us? It tells us that these roles are far more important when establishing a team then they are in actually having a team.
But why is that? That’s harder to say. My personal theory is that the roles are so fundamental, covering all the possible character interactions in the least number of characters, that they can’t help but assert themselves in any new team that forms; yet as characters grow, their relationships with one another grow to a level of complexity that no longer fits within the strict boxes of these roles.
There’s nothing wrong with creating characters in the moulds listed above, so long as that mould doesn’t become a cage. Does “curmudgeon” cover the depth of Ben Grimm as a character? Is the Martian Manhunter just an “outsider”, and no more needs to be said? The great strength of these characters is that they began in a mould that makes them easy to identify with, and they grew from there into more complex creations. As long as writers remember that the easy, one-line character type is a starting point, and not a destination, there’s no reason why more great characters can’t grow from these beginnings for many years to come.
<center><hr width=75%></center>
The best thing out on the indie front this week is from Image, and it’s called Tales from the Bully Pulpit (http://www.comixfan.com/xfan/forums/showthread.php?p=889246#post889246). It’s a 64 page, full color OGN, which tells the story of the time traveling adventures of Teddy Roosevelt and the ghost of Thomas Edison. They fight Nazis and martians and everyone has a grand old time. It’s fun and hilariously, wildly funny. It’s also just $6.95, so be sure to check this one out!
The opinions expressed in this column are solely those of the writer, and are not reflective of ComiX-Fan or its other staff in general.