Most top ten video game character lists are pretty typical. You have Mario, Master Chief, Link, Sonic, Megaman, Solid Snake, etc. People love these characters either because they’re attractive to play as, or because they’re simply part of long running franchises or nostalgic throwbacks that are difficult to criticize. I am as guilty of Zelda fanboy-ism as anyone living, but it seems like most gamers are fine with playing the same muscle-headed space marine in every … single … game. So what truly makes a great character? Is it just his or her inclusion in something larger? That sure helps; no one remembers even great characters in mediocre games. It’s not enough though. A great character is someone we meet in game and think to ourselves, “I wish this person were real. I want them to step out of this game and tell me how cool I am.” We want to be friends with this character, we even might entertain a geek’s wish of meeting their creator. After all, anyone who created such magnificence has to be wildly entertaining themselves. Right? (I, too, am ignoring M. Night Shyamalan’s existence right now.)

Thus, my list of great characters takes a step away from the norm. It may feature the big games of some of your more common picks, but the choices themselves are based not on inclusion, but rather on strength of personality. The following list, in no particular order, is a tribute to both the characters and their shadowy creators.

The Boss

For those uninitiated into Kojima’s mysteries, The Boss is the main “villain” from Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater. She is a soldier and the mother and inventor of special forces. She is a master of hand-to-hand combat, and in general all forms of combat. She is basically the progenitor of the entire MGS series because while she only exists in one of the games, it is her ideals and her code that make the series what it is.

But what makes her a great character? Why did I fall in love with The Boss? For one, she’s invincible. In the literary and movie world, it’s generally frowned upon to create an invincible character. Invincible characters are difficult to relate to. We don’t understand them because none of us are that strong (except me). In MGS3, there is literally no one who can match her physical prowess. Every time someone attempts to, she disarms them and disassembles their weapons into metallic particles bearing no resemblance to original form. [SPOILER WARNING!] In the end, she is killed by Naked Snake / Big Boss, but not because he outmatches her. He kills her because it’s part of her mission to die. [End Spoiler]

But it’s not just her strength of arm that makes The Boss a great character. If she were just invincible, she wouldn’t be very multi-dimensional. Instead, The Boss has a presence to her, a sense of being that you rarely find in fictional characters. Every time she is on screen, she is the focus, even if she’s not in focus. You want to see what she’s doing above the rest of the cast, and it’s almost as though she knows this. When she isn’t giving you a look that makes you wish you hadn’t done all the bad things you’ve done in your life, she’s smirking at her own private joke on history. Killing The Boss is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in a video game. I did not want to do it. If there had been any other option, I would have taken that route instead. I probably would have ended Snake’s life first (even though that would have ruined the entire series. Then again, no one has come back to life more than Big Boss).

Celes Chere

Celes is the product of a sheltered life. She was born and raised in service to an evil empire, even sacrificing her body to magical experiments that drove certain other characters completely insane. Despite all that, she remains a pure soul. She does things in the name of soldiering that contradict this, but somehow is able to retain her humanity. It takes a madman with a river full of poison to finally break her of that soldiering instinct, and from then on she is yours.

I first fell for Celes during the famous Opera scene in FFVI. This particular scene is quite memorable, full of the kind of farce and drama you would only normally only expect from the stage. She sings, something very alien to her nature (I’m a GENERAL, not some opera floozy!), and though her melody only comes to us through the simple audio of the Super Nintendo, there is something haunting and amazing about it. The Aria de Mezzo Carattere, as it is called, as well as Celes’ theme remain some of famed Final Fantasy composer Nobuo Uematsu’s finest work.

It is after the breaking of the world that Celes really comes into her own as a character. For one, she steals the spotlight by becoming the first person you have access to after Armageddon. Her scene at the island, her utter loneliness, and even her attempt at a clumsy suicide, are some of the most heart-wrenching moments in video game history (or at least they were for me fifteen years ago). It seems a simple thing, wanting friends, but it’s also something most people strive for, and it was the loss of those friends that makes Celes an identifiable character. She brings a childish innocence to the game, despite being an adult, and watching her grow from a hardened solider to a vulnerable companion and then finally into a potential love was like witnessing a tree losing it leaves, nearly die, and then blossoming in the spring. Amano’s depiction of her is sheer perfection as well.

Basch fon Ronsenburg

I identified so much with Basch during my playthrough of Final Fantasy XII that for many weeks I walked around speaking in a commanding voice and shouting at people about how I would not tolerate their lies. In the world of Ivalice, Basch could almost be considered a typical knight in shining armor. He is protector of the throne and above all a man of honor. In any other circumstance, he probably wouldn’t have been even noteworthy as a character. Yes, he would have intensely cool looking armor and the ability to slice large dragons in twain, but it is the events of the game that bring out what makes him so interesting. Basch is given the title “Kingslayer.” He didn’t do it, but the responsibility for the deed is thrown upon his undeserving shoulders. Thus he is a man seeking redemption. He seeks redemption for his name and for his family. Some might argue that being the true Kingslayer, Gabranth is the more interesting character. But in this case it isn’t so much the act that makes the man as how he deals with it.

To me, Basch represents an ascent from a low place. I think everyone’s had a low place at some point in their lives, and part of what makes people real and what changes them in interesting ways is how they deal with troubling times and especially self-reflecting times. Basch never gives in. He could have laid down his sword, become an alcoholic, taken on a dark persona and rotted away. He doesn’t. He stands up and screams defiance. It is the moments of this particular game in which Basch stands triumphant that made it engrossing for me. I would have liked Final Fantasy XII with or without Basch because, with a few exceptions, the whole cast is fairly enjoyable and I found it entertaining to trek through. Basch fon Ronsenburg made the game epic for me.

Characters like Basch often make me question the sanity of the creative leads of Final Fantasy games. Why, when you can create men like Basch, real men with real problems who someone can look up to and admire, why do you then create little pestery gnats like Vaan or Tidus, and then center the game around them? I’m sure the same question was asked when Final Fantasy X hit the shelves. Why do I have to play as Tidus when Auron is about a thousand times more interesting? Thankfully, the 12^th installment in this most venerated of series for the most part has steered away from any one, forced character. The ability to choose your part of three made Basch my main character.

Princess Zelda / Sheik / Tetra

She has taken many forms, this beloved princess. On the surface, she appears to be a typical damsel in distress figure. Link is constantly saving her from Ganondorf, carrying out insane quests for her, and in general being her manservant. However, Zelda has evolved. She has gone from passive rescuee to warrior-maiden to light arrow-wielding sorceress. But was she ever really so helpless? When we think of princesses in need of saving, many come to mind. Peach of the Mushroom Kingdom, Aurora from Sleeping Beauty, etc. For the most part, these women are passive, mere symbols of a man’s great quest to feel worthwhile in the world. Zelda is different. Yes, she helps Link shed his underoos and take up his manly (?) green mantle, but she is in no way passive. Even from the outset, she actively works to secure her own rescue. In the very first Zelda game, it isn’t random chance that finds Link swinging his sword all the way to the dreaded volcano. It is Zelda’s efforts to find someone capable of getting her the hell out of there that starts him on his quest. In Ocarina of Time, she takes a far greater role, posing as a warrior called Sheik and helping Link out on his quest. And not only is she capable in the role, but often a player is left wondering why he isn’t playing as this other, arguably cooler and more competent character. In Twilight Princess, she appears to revert to a helpless princess again in her pretty dress and flowing brunette tresses, but she’s a far stronger character than a passing glance reveals. For one, she is no longer just Princess Zelda, but in reality the ruler of the entire land and sacrifices her freedoms so that her subjects may live, even if it is a life under the yoke of shadow. Her role is not passive either as she actively seeks out Link yet again and guides him to victory, even going as far as flinging arrows from the back of his horse during his pseudo-jousting match in the end.

Though some of her roles are more interesting and varied than others (I still haven’t quite figured Tetra out), Zelda is probably the most interesting character in the Zeldaverse. Even the name of the game is irrevocably bound to her and not to its apparent protagonist. The games that she doesn’t appear in are held to that fact. It is her legend. You’re just thrust into the green shoes of an elfish chap to witness and assist her.

Weighted Companion Cube

This is my curveball. Weighted Companion Cube? That’s not a character, it’s an inanimate object! Well to that I say, get thee gone, blasphemer, for the Cube is one of the best characters I’ve ever had the privilege of hauling around.

Portal is an odd game. It’s only about five hours long, give or take, but it leaves one of the longest lasting impressions of any game I’ve ever played. Its protagonist is pretty faceless (you can see that it’s a woman by looking through a cleverly angled portal), the antagonist is a giant computer, and it’s a puzzle game. By all rights, I should have despised it. I have little patience for robots, think puzzle games are a waste of time, and love my characters fully fleshed out and multi-dimensional. Despite those qualms, it wasn’t the main character I enjoyed interacting with, or even GLaDOS, who is a fantastic character in its own right. No, the thing I missed most after my five hour session of brilliance was that square cube with the hearts on each face (it only had hearts on the sides for one level, but it was a fateful and memorable level). In many ways, the Cube is the perfect companion. It’s nearly always there. It isn’t always whining at you ala Navi or Elika. It’s always helpful, never steering you in wrong directions or being there to confuse you when it’s not needed. It’s manageable. It’s aesthetically pleasing. I bet it even smells nice, clean. Now of course I’m adding in extraneous things to make it sound better, but does that not show the level of affection that I feel for this character?

I hate to be a spoiler for those not familiar with the game, but this article would not be complete if I didn’t mention the fated scene in which you are forced to part ways with your companion. This moment tore me up more than any Frodo and Sam moment, more than any scene in Casablanca. Up to this point in my gaming career, I had never been emotionally invested enough in a character that I cared whether or not they lived or died. That’s right. Aerith’s death touched me not at all! But this cube, this faithful fellow made up of nothing more than composite plastics with the heart of a lion, this cube touched me. I searched around for a long time trying to find an alternative to that furnacey grave. I hunted GLaDOS down with fury in my innards for what it eventually made me do. It wouldn’t be until my fated fight with the aforementioned Boss that I would find another moment so emotionally charged. I killed my companion cube. I will forever regret the action. All she wanted was to do was help.

This list is by no means complete, nor is it a top five list. Not only are there many more characters out there who deserve the badge of greatness, but there are far too many games untouched by my critical hands for me to make any such definitive claims. This is just a brief glimpse into some of gaming’s best creations; characters that make us want to buy expensive plushy toys and hang posters on our walls. We’d probably enjoy games without them, but they make the experience richer and more difficult to complain about.

Tags: Editorial, Gaming history

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