We’ve all been there—sitting down to write a character and falling into the same comfortable grooves. Tropes exist for a reason; they give us a starting point. But sometimes, those grooves become ruts that make it hard for the rest of the party (and the GM) to move the story forward. We’ve looked back at our own past characters and realized that some of our “cool” ideas were actually just heavy baggage.

Here are a few tropes we’ve learned to handle with care, and how we’ve found ways to make them breathe again.

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1. The Brooding Lone Wolf

We all love characters like Logan or Trevor Belmont, but we often forget one thing: in their stories, nobody actually likes being around them. In a team-based game like D&D, being the person who refuses to talk or join the group isn’t just “moody”—it’s a hurdle for everyone else.

• What we try instead: We’ve found that “Quiet and Loyal” works much better than “Brooding and Aloof.” Instead of a personality stepped in trauma, try playing a strong survivor who chooses the party because of their past, not in spite of it. Maybe they aren’t great at social cues, but they want to get better, and they’ve chosen these specific people to help them do it.
• The Fix: If you’re already playing the loner, have a “lightbulb moment.” Have your character realize they’re tired of being cold and choose to trust the party—even if it’s just one other person at first.

2. The Chosen One

It’s tempting to be the “Last of a Kind” or the “Prophesied Savior.” But we have to remember: the whole party is the protagonist, not just one of us.

• What we try instead: We love the idea of the “Subverted Prophecy.” Maybe your character grew up in a cult believing they were special, only to reach adulthood and realize it was all a scam. Or, even better: The prophecy already came true. You did the big thing, you saved the day… and now you’re level 1 and have to figure out what to do with the rest of your life.
• The Fix: Let your character realize the “destiny” was a lie or a mistranslation. Maybe you aren’t the Chosen One—but your neighbor or your future child is—and now your job is simply to survive long enough to see them succeed. Be the Neville Longbottom of the group; the one who puts in the work because it’s right, not because a scroll said so.

3. The Tragic Orphan

The “dead parents” trope is the oldest one in the book. While it’s easy, it actually robs the GM of great NPCs. Living parents can write letters, show up at inconvenient times, or be a source of immense pride (or embarrassment).

• What we try instead: Keep them alive, but distant. Maybe you just haven’t called home in a while since the adventuring started. If you’re worried about your GM using them as “hostage bait,” just talk to them! A good GM can use your family for more than just tragedy. Sometimes the best moment is returning home to find your parents already handled the thugs themselves. “Who do you think taught you to swing that sword, kid?”
• The Fix: Focus on Peter Parker and Aunt May, not Bruce Wayne and the roses in the alley. If the parents are already gone, focus on the Found Family. Who raised you? A kind neighbor? A crotchety mentor? Treat them with the same weight you would a parent. If not that, maybe it’s time for the characters to realize that the party they’re in has replaced their family, and they are starting to heal.

4. The Revenge Obsession

“The [Monsters] burned my village/hurt my family” is the default setting for many backstories. While it works for a Vengeance Paladin, it can get repetitive.

• What we try instead: Flip the script from Revenge to Protection. Instead of hunting what’s lost, be obsessed with protecting what’s left. It’s also fun to play the “paranoid protector”—the person who is convinced the local Orcs are up to no good, even when the Orcs are being perfectly lovely neighbors.
• The Fix: Let your character grow. Have them forced to work with one of the “hated” monsters and realize that their hatred was a heavier burden than the original trauma. (And a side note from our tables: we keep things fun by avoiding “tacky” tropes like sexual violence; there are much more creative ways to build a villain.)

5. The One-Note Zealot

We’ve all seen the character whose Deity or Patron is their entire personality. While faith is a great motivator, nobody wants to be preached at for four hours every Saturday night.

• What we try instead: Treat the religion as a starting point, not the finish line. Allow your character to find “wiggle room” in the texts as they see how the real world works.
• The Fix: Look at characters like Michael Carpenter from The Dresden Files. He’s a man of immense faith, but he leads by example, not by lecturing. He’s quiet, patient, and reliable. Be the person the party wants to turn to when things get dark, rather than the person they’re trying to avoid at the campfire.

Breaking the Mold: The “Healthy Home” Hero

If we really want to challenge ourselves, we can try something that is surprisingly rare at the gaming table: The Supported Hero. Imagine a character whose parents are moderately successful—not “throne-room wealthy,” but comfortable. They’ve always been loved, they’ve always been supported, and they have a standing invitation to Sunday dinner. Why do they adventure? Because they want to.

Think of it like the Indiana Jones or Clark Kent model. Clark Kent isn’t a hero because his life is a tragedy; he’s a hero because his parents raised him with a sense of responsibility. He uses his abilities because it’s the right thing to do, not because he’s running from a ghost.

When we play a character who has a happy home to return to, every dungeon crawl feels more dangerous. We aren’t just fighting for gold; we’re fighting to make sure we actually make it back to that Sunday dinner. It gives the GM some fun NPCs to play—and a reason for the party to actually care if we make it out alive.

Be good, or be good at it. You got the juice.
-Bob