Richard Cypher: Neither the Hero We Need, nor the One We Deserve

Pleased to meet you. I'm Gary Stu.

Meet our hero, the one and only Richard Cypher.

Richard is a young woods guide. His mother died in a fire when he was young, and he was mostly raised by his father George, along with his older brother Michael.

He's never been farther from his home, the pastoral community of Heartland, than the Upper Ven forest, which is right next to it. This makes him very different from every fantasy hero before him except for Frodo Baggins, Taran, Ged, Shea and Wil Ohmsford, Garion, Pug, Simon Mooncalf, Paksennarion, Rand al'Thor, Alain, Eragon, and Tavi, among numerous others.

It is at this point that I would like to remind you all that Terry Goodkind does not write fantasy, especially not "typical" fantasy.

Richard is also a master huntsman, swordsman, poet, linguist, roofer, carpenter, emperor, football player (really!) and sculptor.

Needless to say, he's also described as very tall, smolderingly handsome and a man who instantly draws the eye the moment he enters any room.

So, basically, he's a Mary Sue.

If you've never heard that term, I'll attempt to explain it, bearing in mind that there's no official definition and many characters described as Mary Sues aren't really such at all.

The nickname Mary Sue is a derogatory name for a fan fiction character added as a clear author self-insert who is usually an idealized version of the author themselves, or perhaps a picture of everything the author wishes they were. Mary Sues are usually Very Special, in some way, and are often marked out by being especially attractive, usually with some defining feature that makes them stand out. It might be an odd hair color or eye color, or a cool scar, or some other such thing.

Mary Sues, also called Gary Stu or Marty Stu if the character is male, are generally flawless with the possible exception of token flaws meant to be endearing or something that makes them more sympathetic, like a heroic version of PTSD or something.

Sues are awesome at everything they try to do, and usually end up being better at whatever it is than they have any right to be. A Sue who's never flown a plane will somehow instinctively manage to safely land a plummeting aircraft. A Sue who's never fired a gun will have perfect aim.

But the key defining feature of a Sue is that they are always, always, depicted as being in the right, even if they wouldn't be in real life. If a Sue ends up stealing the love interest of another character, that's okay because clearly the Sue is the better love interest. If a Sue comes up with a ridiculous plan full of holes, that won't matter because the plan will go off without a hitch. It doesn't matter what negative personality traits a Sue displays (usually not intentional, but present because the author doesn't notice them), they are never called out on it. If the Sue behaves in haughty, selfish or short-sighted ways, everyone ends up apologizing to them for upsetting them.

Worse yet, other characters will endlessly talk about how great a person the Sue is. You'll know you're dealing with a Sue if characters are repeatedly talking about the character even if they're not on page.

But you're probably wondering, "If it's a fanfic term, then how could it be applied here? After all, Goodkind created this series and this character." True, but just because a work is original doesn't mean a character can't be a Sue. This happens all the time when professional writers end up falling prey to the same traps a fanfic writer might; they end up making their lead characters everything they think they are, or want to be, and thus, end up making Sues of their own. This is sometimes called a Canon Sue, but ultimately it works out the same.

From practically the first book, we are hit repeatedly over the head with reminders of how Very Special Richard is. Multiple characters say things like "you're a very rare person, Richard" or "there aren't many men like Richard" or some such. And it goes without saying that all the heroes luv him. Kahlan is his One True Love, Zedd is the father he deserves (it goes without saying that his father dies; in fact is already dead on page one of book one), his friend Chase, whose real name is Dell Brandstone (he of the brooding soap opera good looks), thinks he's the smartest, most capable man he knows, and throughout the series we can tell whether or not a character is meant to be sympathetic by whether or not they revere Richard, or at least have earned his approval.

Later in the books, Richard becomes a wizard, but not just any wizard, oooh no. Then he wouldn't be Special. He's a War Wizard, the first born in over a thousand years, and his magic (which he uses instinctively without training) is more powerful than any other wizard's, because of course it is. This means the rules of magic, such as they are in this story, don't apply to him. But then, no rules apply to him.

But worse than being a Sue, Richard is also perhaps one of the most awful human beings to ever be a fantasy protagonist.

Let's unpack this a bit. The series is called The Sword of Truth and the TV series it was adapted into is called Legend of the Seeker. We've already discussed what the Sword is and that Richard is given the Sword and becomes the Seeker, but now let's talk a bit about what being a Seeker means, and how the Sword works on the Seeker. Because it's really here that Richard becomes something that truly is unlike any other protagonist, just not in the way Goodkind intends.

First, the Seeker; it's a position created by the wizards of old (I think) who made the Sword (I believe) because they needed a universal symbol for truth. The Seeker is a law unto himself (all Seekers have been men, apparently, though early dialogue seems to indicate it's not a male-only position) and is charged with seeking truth and rooting out corruption and lies where he finds them. Sounds like a pretty important thing to do, but listen to how Goodkind gives it to us.

The power of the Sword makes Richard angry. Like, really angry. Because apparently what you need to be the ultimate discerner of truth from lies is barely repressed homicidal rage. But is it the Sword doing this or is it just drawing out Richard's natural anger? It's hard to say because depending on the scene, Goodkind essentially writes it both ways. Frequently Richard gets angry even without the Sword, so it's not like he needs it in order to give into the rage.

So, anyway, because of his great anger, or something, Richard is supposed to be able to have a higher sense of what is true and what is false. At least, that's what characters keep saying about him. Richard is the poster child for the idea of "informed ability", which is to say that characters keep bragging on his wisdom, his clarity of thinking, his gentleness (yes, the raging homicidal maniac is apparently gentle), his patience, etc., yet he displays few of these qualities himself, and never consistently. What does he display instead?

Well, he's a self-insert for Goodkind, which the author himself admits, so he displays a lot of the same qualities Goodkind possesses, including:

• An ego that likely has achieved its own orbit
• An absolute certainty that he is right and those who oppose him are wrong
• An ability to launch into a self-righteous speech at the drop of a hat
• A belief that those who stand against him for any reason are unquestionably wrong, and likely deserving of death
• A casual attitude toward the idea of slaughtering millions, as long as he believes they deserve it
• A willingness to dismiss the horror of what Confessors do with their power, despite the fact that he would absolutely be disgusted by any other group doing the same (we'll cover this in the next post)
• A patronizing approach to those on his side who he assumes know less than he does about everything and/or would be helpless without his protection

And, though this rarely happens overtly, a sense from the entire narrative that Richard is naturally owed something. Success, deference, whatever. There seems to be an overarching paradigm that everyone who meets Richard and Kahlan should immediately understand them to be the protagonists and thus owed allegiance. You almost expect Richard to shout "Don't you people understand? I'm the hero of this story! The story is about me! I can't be evil! No matter what I do!" He doesn't say those words, but he sure as hell has that attitude.

Richard is, simply put, always right. Even if he's wrong, he's written as if he's right. He's the designated hero, so whatever action he takes is the right one. There are exceptions, but in almost every case, it's Richard himself that realizes he's erred. He's never taught lessons. He's the teacher. He never learns anything. He educates others. Who cares that he was just a simple woods guide when Kahlan met him? He's now a better warrior than lifelong warriors, a better ruler than all emperors, a better man than all other men.

At least, this is how Goodkind writes him, and how other characters react to him. Now let's talk about how he actually is.

He's basically a homicidal maniac with delusions of grandeur, a despotic dictator who could be presented as a villain in any other story without a single action changed. And don't believe what you've heard about him becoming this in later stories. No, it's a part of his character from the earliest parts of the first book. When he first protects Kahlan from an attack, he murders one of her attackers and feels no remorse because he is certain that the man deserved it. He has no idea who Kahlan is, but he knows she deserves to be protected and that the men trying to kill her deserve to die. How does Richard know that these men aren't attacking her because she, say, killed their families, or something? Because she's pretty? Pretty people are always good, right Goodkind? I mean, I've seen photos of you. Is that really a road you want to go down?

Richard has absolutely zero reason to immediately assume Kahlan's innocence and even less to murder her attackers. But it's not the murder itself I object to. It's the lack of remorse afterward. Sure, he came to the rescue of an unarmed woman being attacked by armed men, and they weren't exactly in the mood to explain themselves, and one could argue he killed in self defense, but still, a humble woods guide who's never killed anyone before? And he's totally cool with it.

It continues throughout. Richard's first thought when encountering any adversity is to whip out his sword and start threatening people. He does this on numerous occasions, including against random mooks who don't even work for the bad guy, and a few times actually acts on those threats. And I mean any adversity, not just any threat of violence. At one point he threatens to slaughter an entire village of peaceful aboriginal people because they might not take sides in his conflict with Darken Rahl. Their argument is that while they don't trust Rahl, Richard has given them no reason to trust him. And he hasn't! But he expects them to ally with him simply because he's the hero of this story.

And here's the real kicker. Richard is capital-D dumb. I mean, the most obvious stuff it takes him multiple chapters to grasp, and he only manages to look smart by everyone around him being dumber than he is. That, and constant assurances by other characters that he's a brilliant man. I can't count the number of times Richard comes to a "brilliant" realization that readers already had ten chapters ago, only for the other characters to act as if they've never seen such amazing mental acuity. I've already talked about him taking an entire book to realize that Kahlan hasn't fallen out of love with him but is trying to protect him. Here's another example; early in Wizard's First Rule, Richard learns about Darken Rahl's conquest of the Midlands, his killing of innocents and raping women, his outlawing of fire (oh, yes, more on this later) and poisoning of red fruit (this too). And of course, his latest bid for ultimate power with his magical MacGuffins (much more on this later). And he decides he must kill Rahl. He actually becomes quite dedicated to this, calling it his life's purpose and making a number of speeches about Rahl's evil and how all must stand with him because Rahl will certainly hurt and kill them.

Here's the problem; all he knows about Rahl, literally all of it, he learns from Kahlan and Zedd. And why is that an issue? Because he's just met Kahlan and definitely doesn't know for a fact that she's trustworthy, and he's just learned that Zedd has been lying to him his entire life. But does he even momentarily question their story? He does not! And we're talking about a book whose central thrust is that people will believe anything given the right motivation; they want it to be true or are afraid it might be true. If you think this means Richard is going to learn by then end not to be so trusting, you'd be wrong. That would imply Richard has something to learn. Instead, the resolution has to do with him defeating the man deceiving everyone, naturally.

So Richard is dumb, but everyone around him is dumber, so they think he's smart. It's a natural side-effect of Goodkind being far less brilliant than he believes himself to be. But worse than dumb, he's essentially a villain protagonist, a tautological Templar who believes, and is always portrayed as, being right even when his actions are more heinous than the villains. For that matter, sometimes his actions are worse. Say what you will about a later arch-villain, Emperor Jagang (really only a few steps down from "Darken Rahl" on the obviously-evil-naming scale), the man knows how to treat his troops. Richard? He acts like Goodkind does with his fans; they owe him something because he's so great, and he's not often sure they're worthy of him.

And I have only just barely mentioned Richard's penchant for speech-making. It starts off not so bad. He only makes a couple such speeches in the first book. By the second he's openly threatening war with a nation he knows nothing about, threatening actions he can in no way back up. By book three, he is openly declaring anyone who doesn't want to be ruled by him to be the enemy in speeches that cross chapters. In book four, he even has a good man executed and an entire town destroyed because they have no desire to trade one dictator for another. Oddly enough, in book five, he lets a nation choose between him and the Imperial Order (so named because Goodkind is original), and just pronounces them doomed to the consequences of their own choice. I haven't read the eighth book, Naked Empire, but I have heard some awful things about it, including that Richard at one point literally slices and dices his way through a whole village of unarmed innocents who stand guilty merely of siding with someone who isn't Richard. As Goodkind describes them, they are "armed only with their hatred for moral clarity."

Now, I'm a fan of the anti-hero. I love books that raise moral questions by having the protagonist act in a questionable manner, and dare the reader to decide what makes them right, or even if they are. I love it when heroes are just really flawed people who happen to have a better moral compass than the villains. I love it when villains are presented as well-intentioned extremists, who fully believe they're the good guy.

The problem? Richard isn't an anti-hero, or at least he's not supposed to be. He's supposed to represent "the nobility of the human spirit", a phrase Goodkind is in love with despite not knowing anything about nobility. If Richard is a picture of the human spirit, than the human spirit is petulant, demanding, self-centered, vindictive and overall horrendous. Goodkind has not presented this murderous lunatic as a picture of a hero gone wrong, but as the ultimate ideal of what a true hero should be. The views he espouses are Goodkind's views, unfiltered, coming through Richard's mouth almost word for word, even including words that a simple woods guide in a parallel pre-industrial society really shouldn't know, like "chain reaction", and in multiple interviews Goodkind has held him up as someone readers should be looking up to, should be inspired by.

Yeah. Not on your life. In fact, I have encountered many Goodkind readers who seem to actually think Richard is meant to be an evil protagonist and they "love" how Goodkind has played with our expectations like that. If, in fact, Goodkind was attempting to be subversive and get us cheering for the bad guy, I'd probably appreciate him a lot more. But he's not meant to raise any moral questions. He's there to exemplify what Goodkind sees as morally upright. He's not a flawed man who has a conscience. He's a perfect man who doesn't need a conscience. And he is the extremist villain who thinks he's the hero. It's just that this time, the author believes it, too.

Now, some of this comes from Goodkind's radical devotion to Objectivism, and we'll certainly talk about that before it's all over, but ultimately, Objectivism isn't to blame here, because as much as that philosophy could account for Richard's unflagging notion that he's correct and the world is wrong, Ayn Rand still did not advocate genocide or despotism. In fact, Objectivism detests both. Goodkind is just a really screwed up guy.

And Richard is his screwed up, evil, dictatorial, morally incorruptible pure hero. A Marty Stu only a truly nasty guy could support.