Don't forget to read the Disclaimers
With few exceptions, most improv games require you play a character. You endow yourself (or are endowed) with certain characteristics, quirks, or mannerisms through which you play your part in a scene.
It sounds easy enough – and, in fact, it is. But I’ve seen lots of players (my self most of all) struggle with this basic tool of improv. More often than not I’ve seen players trying to be characters and making things difficult on themselves for no good reason.
At this point I have to include a special note (mostly so I don’t get hammered on by the people that know me). I’ve never been particularly good a playing “characters” in improv games. If you’ve ever seen me on stage, you’ve probably seen LouStein™ playing in a game, and not LouStein™ playing a character in that game. I know this and it’s the part of my performance that I know needs the most work. Never the less, those that can’t do sometimes teach – and so I’m going to give it a shot.
Ok – here’s the deal about characters:
At FNI we play what are generally referred to a “short-form” improv games. The games are called this because, you guessed it, they are short. Each game we play really only lasts about 5 or 6 minutes (although to both those that watch them and those that play, they sometimes seem so much longer). But the reality of the situation is, from beginning to end, each game isn’t going to give you much stage time.
In that small amount of time, however, you have to create and “stick to” a character. This character exists only for the duration of the game and then disappears – back into the ether from which it came.
Perhaps the second biggest problem that players encounter with characters (the first being not playing one at all) is trying to play a character that is to overly-complex for the game. Remember: you only have a few minutes of stage time to “play” with your character. In general neither you, your partner, nor the audience really needs to understand that the reason your character walks with a limp is because he was injured by his arch-rival while trying to make the winning touchdown at the “big” game in high school striving in vain to win the affections of the guidance counselor who bared a striking resemblance to his mothers aunt’s next-door neighbors daughter who he had a crush on in 1983.
Characters aren’t there to hurt. The character you are playing is there to help you. Your character gives you guidelines on what to say, what to do, how to react. In all these ways, your character is a huge help to you in simply “playing” the game, because for every action you do your character is there – whispering in your ear, trying to help you out.
But sadly those very same whispers can so often be a distraction to the player; confusing you and pulling you away of the game and into your head. (why does that sound like a metaphor for schizophrenia to me? Shut up, you!)
One of the reasons that characters can be so problematic is because the whole concept of a “character” is so subjective and multi-faceted. What constitutes a “Boss” to you might be very different than to someone else (like Boss Hog, for example). Or what about “Dad”: when you think of “Dad” do you think authoritarian, disciplinarian, understanding, sympathetic, drunk, etc?
These aren’t easy things to choose from, let alone convey to an audience. Experienced actors sometimes take months just to research, flesh-out, and “understand” their characters before they play them in a two hour performance. You have 10 seconds to prepare and 5 minutes to play. Ah, the joy of improv.
One of the ways around this plight of the improv performer is to use simple characters. By simple, I mean pick a clear character, endow that character with a few basic traits, and give your character a simple motivation. Finally, present your character to the audience in a direct way that they can understand.
Ok - Let’s start with picking a clear character. Picking a character doesn’t sound so hard, dose it? Sadly, I’ve seen lots of players fail to make this first, most obvious choice. At the start of the game (or at whatever point you enter it) you need to decide what character you are going to be. Now, I know that doing this might be a little freighting, because your making a choice that you’ll probably be stuck with for the duration. But to not pick a character is doom. Trust me, the audience can smell a no-character character a mile away. And if you’re not willing to invest yourself in the game, why should they?
Now, sometime, picking a character is a non-issue. Sometimes, the situations of the game dictate your character. Freeze is the classic example of this, as someone else starts the scene and (hopefully) makes your character choice for you.
In either case, just picking a character isn’t quite enough. When that character choice is made, you want to make it as clear and as simple as possible. Mom, Dad, Priest, Astronaut, Doctor are all clean, easy, clear & simple characters. Billy, however, is not. On the flip side, Billy the breakdancing paraplegic coffee-shop assistant stock clerk is probably going to run you into trouble as well.
So, ok, you’ve picked a simple character: Ed the fireman. Great. Now what? Just how the hell is Ed going to help you play the game? Well, he isn’t, unless you help him first.
After you’ve made a character choice, you want to endow that character with some simple character traits. Even one trait will do. A character trait is just some facet of the character that you want to focus on. Now, it helps if the trait has something to do in relation to your character, so that’s a good place to start. Is Ed a brave fireman? Conversely, what if Ed is a fireman that’s afraid of fire? Does Ed like his job? Was he ever horribly burned while fighting a fire?
I know that sounds like an awful lot of questions to ask yourself, especially in the ten seconds you usually have to make your character choice. But remember, at minimum you only have to pick one trait to give to your character, so it’s really not all that bad. And the payoff is, if you decide that Ed has an ungodly fear of fire, then making the rest of the choices in your game suddenly becomes a lot easier.
Ok, we’ve got a clear character and basic character trait. With those two things alone you already have enough to carry your character through a game. The icing on the cake is a simple motivation.
Motivation: it’s what your character wants. The goal that your character is striving for. If you can go into a game and have a clear motivation for your character, everything becomes gravy; because everything your character does need only point towards that goal.
Again, picking a motivation sometimes isn’t as easy as it sounds. The best advice I can give is to pick a motivation that relates to your character. If Ed is a Fireman that is afraid of fire, then perhaps his motivation is to stay away from the fire. Or perhaps Ed is a little more bold, and wants to confront and overcome that fear. Or quit his job. Or be promoted to Captain so he can sit behind a desk. All these things are simple, direct, and too the point. The motivations you might want to avoid are things like; win a Noble prize for architecture, or become pregnant, or sit & stare.
Boy, that’s a lot of choices to make. A Character, character traits, motivations. But there you are, you’ve feverishly spent your precious ten seconds working it all out in your mind while the host was getting suggestions from the audience. You’ve got a great character, good traits, a strong motivation. You are so Del Close to your character you can just feel it. The game starts. And somewhere, right after the first line of the scene or the first change of genres, you’ve forgotten all about your character.
The last comment on characters is not to forget them. Don’t let the frenzy of the game eclipse your character. If anything, it should be the other way around. Your character should dictate what happens in the game. You should at least try to show the audience your character with every line you speak and every action you take. Yes, often times the very rules of the game try and prevent this from happening – but sometimes that’s the whole point. The audience desperately wants to see what would happen if Ed the Fireman who’s afraid of fire was suddenly onboard a spaceship headed for the sun. But if you suddenly forget all about him and start to reenact a scene from “Star Wars Episode II: The Making of the Trailer” then all the work you put into creating Ed is wasted.