I swear I’ve heard somewhere that OCs (original characters) are reflections of different parts of the self, that there’ll always be some tiny part of you imbued into your character’s personality because they are a product of your conscience.
I might’ve just conjured that exact definition up, especially since I’m already inclined to believe it based on the emotional things I enjoy writing, but whenever I end up writing a new character concept or story, I always reflect on that personal fact. It’s truly gratifying when people enjoy characters you write that’re a lot like you, especially when the situations or personal struggles they face resonate effectively.
On that note, here’s one of mine! His name’s Rhys, he’s seventeen, and he really wants to become a Pokémon trainer. He’s got the knowledge, he’s got the drive, he’s got all of the little things down that normally would make someone feel confident in their ability to pursue the path they’ve always dreamed of. The only issue is that, like so many of us, he’s got anxiety. Bad anxiety. He feels inadequate when he isn’t, is constantly battered by intrusive thoughts that build unnecessary walls that get in the way of any potential progress, and feels alone despite having an extremely caring support system. Even when he rescues his first Pokémon from nearly being killed in the wild and receives universal praise from every person that finds out, a big part of him still feels like he doesn’t deserve it. It sucks! Nobody in any universe deserves to feel that way, especially not someone who hasn’t even begun to try and live out their dreams.
I bring up Rhys in particular because when I started writing his story and all the kinda of anxious moments he’d endure, I realized I’d basically started painting a canvas of my teenage years. Each moment of panic, doubt, and fear of his are strokes that coat my own past; but so are his moments of reflection, self-improvement, and triumph. Writing a character that’s a lot like yourself is cathartic because they can give a part of yourself, whether good or bad, a voice. Being able to let those feelings and experiences escape the confines of your mind and possibly imbue others with inspiration is a fantastic prospect, one that occasionally I find myself struggling to do justice because I want to do things right. When Rhys falls, I don’t want him to writhe and grieve; I want him to get back up, take a deep breath, and push forward even if it’s hard. The in-game Pokémon universe is, more often than not, portrayed as a generally utopic society where the only conflicts the player encounters are with rogue groups hellbent on inciting their chosen earth-shattering cataclysm or gaining some kind of ultimate power. Fledgling trainers explore the world at the age where I still felt uncomfortable sleeping in a room or bed that wasn’t mine; somehow, they’re content with diving into the terrifying, supernatural unknown without care. Well… at least as far as the games make evident, of course.
Rhys, despite his overwhelming passion for the creatures that inhabit the world around him, isn’t like that. He can’t fathom leaving the room he’s felt at peace in his entire life, casting aside all worry and diving headfirst into a world with equal amounts of danger and life-changing experiences. In order for him to thrive, he has to learn to defeat his preconceived notions of how his future will unfold and just go for it. It took me until college to learn that. A part of me wishes I could tell seventeen-year-old me that even when your brain convinces you you’re something you’re not, growing up is going to happen, and it’ll give you a whole new perspective on life that allows you to thrive even during discomfort.
Rhys’ journey is ongoing, and even though his story is comforting to write, I’m always unsure if or when it’ll ever truly be finished. Life unfolds at a rate you can never truly predict; much like all of ours, Rhys’ paths branch out in so many possible directions that it’s hard to settle on just one. But if there’s one thing that always reminds me that continuing his journey is worth it, it’s that he’s a part of me that always wanted to feel validated, and maybe you’ll see a part of him in you too.
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