Dragna's Blog: External & Internal Arcs (Internal Arcs Pt. I)

Note: Apologies for the recent shortage of devblogs - I was sick for the first half of December, and was preoccupied with the holidays for most of the rest. I should be able to return to a more consistent schedule now, though.

Note that today's blog is less about Reloaded in particular, and more about an aspect of narrative design I've been turning over in my head for the past several months - internal character arcs. This week's post will focus on internal arcs generally, next week's will examine how to implement internal arcs in D&D, and the final post will take a closer look at common pitfalls in implementing them (as represented in popular media)). I hope you enjoy!

External & Internal Arcs

Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope is a story about Luke Skywalker.

Raised as a humble moisture farmer on the isolated desert planet of Tattooine, he's thrust from his ordinary life into a much bigger, deadlier galaxy when his aunt and uncle are killed by agents of the Empire. Through the guidance of Ben Kenobi and the aid of Han Solo, Princess Leia, and Chewbacca, he comes to join the galactic Rebellion and joins the mission to destroy the Death Star. But when the other members of Luke's squadron are killed, it all comes down to Luke to strike the final blow against the Death Star and save the Rebellion from destruction. Can Luke learn to trust in the Force and become a Jedi—as his father was before him, and to carry on Kenobi's legacy—in order to hit his mark and save the day?

Episode IV represents one of two approaches to epic storytelling often represented in campaigns of Dungeons & Dragons. Camp One—call it the Chosen One narrative—focuses on one or more protagonists whose unique skills, heritages, or destinies make them uniquely suited to saving the day. (See also: Harry Potter, The Wheel of Time, and The Dresden Files.)

Camp Two—the Right Place, Right Time narrative—focuses on one or more (functionally, fungible) protagonists whose unique circumstances allow or obligate them to save the day. (See also: Guardians of the Galaxy, Stranger Things, and the Star Wars sequel trilogy—though even GotG and ST, through Gamora and Eleven, respectively, have elements of the Chosen One narrative.)

(There's also, of course, Camp Three—the Personal narrative—which is fundamentally about the protagonist saving themselves and/or those they love, rather than the Greater Good. Spider Man: Homecoming and How to Train Your Dragon are two big examples. Camp Three can often overlap with Camps One and Two—see, e.g., Black Panther, Frozen, or Guardians of the Galaxy: Volume II—but the "epic stakes" in that case usually aren't revealed until the end of Act II.)

No matter which camp a story falls in, however, it generally has two narrative arcs: an external arc and an internal arc.

An external arc is the story about how the protagonist's position in the world changes. Luke destroys the Death Star, saves the Rebellion, and awakens his skills as a Jedi. External arcs are D&D's bread and butter—kill the monster, save the prisoner, get the gold. While an external arc can have global (e.g., save the world) or personal (e.g., find your long-lost sibling) stakes, they're still fundamentally external to the protagonist.

An internal arc, by contrast, is the story about how the protagonist changes as a person. Luke goes from a whiny, naïve dreamer to a determined, battle-ready leader—and, more importantly, from someone who leans on others to someone who looks inward, allowing him to trust in the Force and accept his destiny as a Jedi.

In traditional storytelling, the Hero's Journey, or Monomyth, is a synthesis of the external and internal arc. The protagonist is pulled into an unfamiliar world with extraordinary stakes, and, through trials and tribulations, is tested and found wanting. The protagonist's flaws ultimately lead them into a dark place, creating a moment when all seems lost—but the protagonist conquers those flaws, achieves synthesis and self-actualization, and emerges from the "underworld" with the spiritual/mental/emotional ability to win the day. When the protagonist returns home with the "elixir," the treasure they bring is not merely treasure or victory, but an alchemical transmutation—through the crucible of their journey, they have transformed their soul from lead to gold.

The key to understanding how external and internal arcs intertwine is realizing that an incomplete internal arc acts as an obstacle to completing the external arc. No matter how good he gets with a lightsaber, or how many allies he recruits, Luke can't destroy the Death Star until he learns to trust in the Force—but once he does, destroying the Death Star is easy. Similarly, no matter how good the Guardians of the Galaxy are at shooting or stealing things, they can't defeat Ronan until they learn to unite together and trust in one another's strength—and once they do, defeating Ronan is easy.

Can you tell a story that's 100% external or 100% internal arc, with no mix? Absolutely. Nearly all D&D campaigns are 100% external; any character growth, to the extent it exists at all, is usually incidental or player-driven, with little relevance to the narrative. Curse of Strahd: Reloaded tries to offer internal arcs in the form of the Flaws section of the Character Creation chapter, but it doesn't do enough to work them in or make them meaningful; most DMs or players, in practice, seem not to realize that these flaws are meant to be conquered, rather than retained through the end of the campaign.

100% internal narratives are rarer, but they exist—I just watched the movie Her for the first time, and that's absolutely a 100% internal arc; it's a movie about how the protagonist grows and changes as a person, and basically nothing else. (Given the narrative fantasy that D&D provides, however, I don't know that I'd recommend a 100% internal narrative to any but the most roleplay-driven playgroup.)

Interestingly, however, no matter which kind of media you look at, it's much rarer for professional fiction to be 100% external than 100% internal—and much more common for media to include both. Even "brainless" action flicks like Deadpool, John Wick, Mad Max: Fury Road or The Fast & the Furious explore their protagonists' internal arcs and character growth, rendering them essential to the outcome of the external arc. (This is, of course, because stories are about people, not plots—an external arc is a medium through which the internal arc is expressed, and cannot truly ascend to become a meaningful narrative in the absence of an internal arc.)

D&D players often crave the "specialness" factor of Chosen One narratives, most usually symbolized by their hope that the DM will work their character's "backstory" into the campaign's plot. But what players think they want—a focus on "backstory" (i.e., an external arc)—is not what they truly need: a focus on their characters (i.e., an internal arc).

A New Hope is not about Luke Skywalker because he's Force-sensitive, or because his family died; those archetypes could be filled by literally any other character. A New Hope is about Luke because he cannot win unless he learns to trust in himself and the Force. That's a story that nobody else can tell—and that, I believe, is what D&D players truly want.

But how do you run and implement an internal arc in D&D? We'll explore all that—and more—in next week's blog. Until then!