There's a question that I've been pondering lately: Why do people like seeing their favorite characters suffer?
As many of you know, I love Final Fantasy VII. In particular, I love Cloud Strife, the moody sad boy protagonist of the game. Because of my great affection for this fictional man, I seek out (and write) fanfiction where Cloud faces a variety of hardships from childhood trauma to harrowing battle injuries to horrific laboratory experimentation to plain just being lonely.
But why? Why do I like reading about a character that means a lot to me, who reminds me a lot of myself in some ways and has helped me understand myself better, suffering? Why do I seek out stories where he is in pain? And why am I not alone? There is an entire genre of fanfiction called “whump” where the writer’s favorite character is subjected to whatever sadistic imaginings the author can dream up. And people can dream up a lot of pain for Cloud Strife, largely because that’s sort of his deal in the source material, but fanfiction authors really take it to the next level. Like, I read one recently where he gets impaled by rebar, like holy shit, yikes. Great fic though.
Is there something wrong with a huge swath of Final Fantasy VII fans? For that matter, fans of media in general? I have been interested in the whump genre (without knowing the term) since I was eight years old writing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fanfiction, and every fandom I have ever been involved in from Beatles fanfic to Reylo shippers for the latest Star Wars trilogy feature a healthy smattering of hurt and angst. Are we all psychopaths? I don’t think so. I happen to know myself very well, and I firmly believe I have little to no psychopathic tendencies: I have never felt any urge to cause bodily or emotional harm to another living being for fun, I take very good care of my sickly Hazelcat, and I am a loyal and loving partner, friend, sister, and daughter. But damn do I like seeing Cloud Strife cry.
Why? Don’t I like Cloud? Yeah, of course, that’s what makes his pain compelling. I will skip right over a fic where Reno, an antagonist in the game, is bedridden with illness, but what’s that, a fic where my sweet boy Cloud has a panic attack in an elevator? Bookmarking that to read three times in one week.
I think that at least part of this phenomenon stems from the payoff later in the story when Cloud is comforted. A majority of the Cloud whump fics also fall into a fanfiction genre called hurt/comfort. Cloud is subjected to a series of painful experiments in Hojo’s laboratory? That’s alright, his friends come to his rescue. Cloud is touch-starved and anxious? Well then, it’s all the sweeter when he opens up to Aerith and she holds his hand. And now it’s a romance story with a full character arc, how adorable. To a certain degree, almost all fiction involves some suffering for the protagonist because they almost universally have to overcome some sort of hardship or cope with some sort of pain for there to be a story. In this way, fanfiction is no different from any other sort of storytelling.
But I don’t think that fully explains it. I also think the appeal of whump fics are that they reveal vulnerability in a character. That’s what makes the characters relatable, what makes them human. Even in real life, oftentimes the moment that takes a relationship from acquaintance to friend is a moment of pain. Back in high school, the moment I let down my peppy, “let’s be pals!” persona to reveal to my now-partner my grief over my cat who had been hit by a car, she said that was a moment that shifted our relationship, that was the moment where I became relatable, became “real.” Recently at work, I said something hurtful to a coworker in a moment of misdirected rage about my most recent demotion, and when she approached me about it, clearly nervous and upset, my barriers were brought down and before I knew it, I was tearfully apologizing and telling her about all the secret meetings that had been going on between me and management that were wearing me down. And now she wants me to come to Zumba with her.
In real life, when someone chooses to- or is put in a position where they have to- open up and trust someone else with their weakness, their grief, their pain, that’s when we bond on a deeper level. When I form an attachment to a fictional character, I believe the same psychology is at play. I want to move beyond the badass persona to the “real” person underneath the cool battle moves. I want the character to “let me in,” even if that actually means I as the audience simply have access to a character’s internal monologue or I witness the moment where another character is entrusted with the character’s struggles. It serves the same social bonding purpose that a classmate or coworker opening up does. Cloud is at his realest, is brought closest to his friends (including his hordes of unseen companions who are playing the game) when he’s afraid, when he’s hurt.
And maybe all of us are. Over the last few years, I have been dipping in and out of Tara Brach’s book Radical Acceptance: Embracing Your Life with the Heart of a Buddha. Recently, I’ve been reading her chapter on fear. In it, she explains the three refuges according to Buddhist practice where “we discover a place to rest our human vulnerability.” One of them is the sangha, the community of others who feel like us. She gives an example of a person she knows who feels anxious about ever leaving her young daughter for any length of time, fearful that one of them will die while they are apart. She was able to find a sense of spiritual refuge by imagining herself as a part of the worldwide community of mothers who fear for their children. As Brach writes, “while her own fear had isolated her and made her feel vulnerable, when it became our fear she no longer felt alone. The compassion that arose in her heart was far greater than her fear.”
Compassion. A big part of my emotional experience when I read stories about Cloud’s suffering is compassion; I feel practically stabbed through with Sephiroth’s Masamune myself. Perhaps facing the fear and pain of a fictional character provides a safe space to cope with real pain. I find myself feeling more patient and empathetic towards real life people who are withdrawn or have had traumatic childhoods, who struggle with the same sense of “not being good enough” or "struggling to put down their barriers" that I (and many fanfiction writers) perceive to be a part of Cloud Strife’s struggles. I find myself thinking about the compassion and affection I have for Cloud and being able to apply that to coworkers and friend’s boyfriends who I may have previously wrote off with a dismissive “fuck men” attitude.
I wonder if perhaps the appeal of whump fanfiction, and tragedy and horror more generally, is also to give us a safe space to process our own feelings of fear or grief. I find myself drawn to Cloud partially because the outward persona that he adopts is relatable- the clad in all-black tough guy, arms crossed, keeping to himself, while also clearly caring deeply for his companions, literally risking life and limb for them. I’m not nearly prickly as Cloud is, but I still find it hard to fully own the emotions that I show to others, resist having too much attention put on me, prefer to be the hyper-competent team member everyone can count on and who never has to count on anyone else. I like to believe that I don’t need anyone or hardly anything, that I can make do with whatever, like a weed, you can plop me anywhere, and I’ll find a place to take root and flourish. Deprive me of anything, and I’ll carry on, I don’t need no fertilizers or prime sunny spot. Or so I think anyway.
When I cried in front of my coworker, I felt awkward around her for a while, even as it seemed- in fact, partially because it seemed- like she went out of her way to be gentler and kind to me. I found that embarrassing, a reaction I can only too easily imagine Cloud having. Even with my partner, I sometimes reflexively tell her that I’m fine, that everything is okay, even when it’s not- sometimes to the point of not even realizing myself that what I’m saying isn’t true. Also seems pretty Cloud Strife to me. But when I read or write a story where Cloud is aware of the fact that he’s lonely, where he cries and is comforted by one of his companions who doesn’t think any less of him for his pain, when he needs to be rescued or healed by someone else, on some level, maybe I’m seeing myself, seeing that need is okay, that suffering doesn’t have to be denied and hidden, that, in fact, it can lead to the cutest damn comfort scenes I’ve ever read. I, like Cloud, want to believe that I am capable of anything, of everything, of carrying everyone. But fics where Cloud is trapped in a cell, broken by a too-powerful enemy, or incapacitated by poison reminds me that even heroes have limits.
One of my biggest fears in life has always been that I will outlive the people that I love most, which is one of the defining features of Cloud’s storyline in the original game. And when I face Cloud’s losses, I feel like the mother Tara Brach described: when it is our grief, I don’t feel as alone, it doesn’t feel as insurmountably dreadful. And so I can just live the time I have with loved ones now, and know that, when grief comes knocking at my door down the line, at least I’ll have a hero in my mind that will look at me with all-too-personal understanding in his glowing blue eyes.
On the other hand, there’s a part of me that feels pathetic for relying on an imaginary friend. But is that so different from one of the other Buddhist refuges Brach describes: “We might take refuge in the historical Buddha, the human being who attained enlightenment under the bodhi tree twenty-five hundred years ago […] his compassionate presence holding the fear.” From fairy tales to religion, haven’t humans always taken refuge in characters and stories that are realest in our own minds? Cloud, unlike Siddhartha or Jesus, was never a real person and no one on earth (I guess?) believes that he was, but when it boils down to it, having someone at your heart’s command, whether once-real or fully imaginary, who is not a mortal person is a powerful tool for self-care. Someone who will always be there, no matter what, because they exist within you. Arguably, they are you, at least a part of you, a reflection of some aspect. Using your own imagination to help yourself is… well, it’s you helping yourself. Brach writes, “genuine freedom arises as our experience of belonging finds its roots deep within us.”
I have been increasingly gaining new perspective on myself as I hold myself open to seeing myself through the lens of a character I respect and care for. It’s been a really powerful and meaningful experience, and one that I am not alone in experiencing. (See: the subreddit thread entitled “Cloud Strife saved my sanity during the beginning of the pandemic and I’d like to share it with you all”)
Um, so, yeah, thanks for getting totally wrecked, Cloud. You’ve helped me and a lot of other people out here in the outside-of-the-TV-world a lot. We're all rooting for you. Even when we try to break you.
Thanks for reading, folks. Have any fictional characters helped you? Leave me a comment or email me at lasitasblog@gmail.com. I'd love to hear from you! New here? Sign up for my newsletter.
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