How to Subvert Expectations Without Compromising The Story
Whoo boy, is this a contentious topic with the last few blockbuster franchises. To āsubvert expectationsā is to do the opposite of whatever your audience expects to happen. Your audience expects the story to go a certain way based on the archetypes and tropes your characters follow, the tone youāve set for your story, and the level of mature themes that tone allows.
It might mean your long-lost princess doesnāt actually reclaim the throne sheās been fighting for. Or the presumed hero (or any of their straight friends) of the story dies halfway through their arcs. The mentor pegged for death actually survives to the end credits. The villainās plan actually succeeds, or the heroes fail to deactivate the bomb before it explodes. The āwill they/wonāt theyā is never fulfilled.
Supporters of SE argue the following:
Itās refreshing, novel, new, a fun twist on a classic tale
They like that itās unpredictable and bold
Theyāre tired of stories fitting within the same wheel ruts of every other story that came before and like to see creativity thrive
It gives audiences something they didnāt even know they wanted
Itās only done for drama at the cost of fulfilling character arcs
Itās a cheap gag that only works once and has zero rewatchability with the same impact
Tropes and archetypes have stood the test of time for a reason - to entertain
When expectations are subverted and the story changes in a more positive light (like a beloved character who doesnāt die when we all think they will), the reaction is not nearly as emotionally charged as when the story changes negatively. Thus, the haters have plenty of evidence of bad examples, but minimize the good ones. Good SE is novel, or a pleasant surprise, or a quaint relief. Bad SE trashes the story and spits on the fans and destroys the legacy of the fandom.
What makes a bad subversion?
Like killing any character for shock value, bad SE takes all of the potential of a good story and gambles it for a string of gasps in the movie theater. It exists only to keep the audience on their toes, or because the writer went out of their way to change the direction of their work when fans figured out the mystery too quickly and now *must* prove all the clever sleuths wrong.
So, say your subversion is making the hero lose a tournament arc when they made it all the way to the final round and the entire story is riding on this victory. They may have stumbled along the way and had some near-misses, but they must win. Not just so the audience cheers, but because this is the direction their arc must take to be at all entertaining and fulfilling.
Then they lose, because itās *novel* and irreparable consequences are reaped in the aftermath. They lose when, by rights, they were either stronger or smarter or faster than their opponent. They lose when the hand of the author rigs the fight against them and everyone notices.
Sure, itās not at all what audiences expect, but you, writer, your first responsibility to the people consuming your content is to entertain them. So what purpose does this loss serve this character? How does it impact their arc, the themes that surround them, the message of your story?
Even if mainstream audiences donāt care on the surface about themes and motifs, they still know when a story fumbles. Itās not entertaining anymore, itās not satisfying. Yes, crap happens in reality, but this is fiction. If I wanted to read about some tragic heroās bitter and unsatisfying demise, Iād read about any losing side in any war ever in a history book. I picked up a fiction book for catharsis.
On the topic of āgritty fantasy/sci-fi anyone can die and no one is safeā ā no author has the guts to roll the dice and kill whoever it lands on. Some characters will always have plot armor. Why? Because you wouldnāt have a story otherwise, youād just have a bloody, gory, depressing reality TV show with hidden cameras.
What makes a good subversion?
Now. What if this character loses the final round of their tournament, but itās their own fault? Maybe they get too cocky. Maybe itās perfectly, tragically in character for them to fall on their own sword. Maybe the audience is already primed with the knowledge that this fight will be close, that there might be foul play involved, but still deny that it will happen because thatās the hero, they wonāt lose. Until they do.
Then, itās not the hand of the author, itās this characterās flaws finally biting them in the ass. Itās still disappointing, no doubt, but then the audience is less mad at the author and more mad at the dumbass character for letting their ego get to their head.
If you write a character whoās entire goal in life is to win that trophy, or reclaim their throne, or get the girl, and they *donāt* do those things, then the ātrophyā had better be the friends they made along the way, that they learned it wasnāt the trophy, it was something *better* and even though they lost, they still won. Even when expectations are shredded, the story still has to say something, otherwise the audience just feels like they wasted their time.
A good subversion does not compromise the soul of the narrative. You might kill a fan favorite character or even the hero of the story, but their impact on the characters they leave behind is felt until the very end. The hero might lose her tournament, but she still walks away with wisdom, maturity, and new friends. Heck, sports movies leave the winner of the big game a toss-up more often than not. Audiences know the game is important, but they know the character theyāre following is even more important. Doesnāt matter if the *team* loses the battle, so long as the protagonist wins the Character Development war.
Good SE that should be more popular:
The āTrial of threesā ā your hero faces three obstacles and usually botches the first two and succeeds on the third attempt. Subvert it by having them win on the first or second, lose all three, or have a secret fourth
Not killing your gays. Just. Donāt do it. Thatāll subvert expectations just fine, wonāt it?
Have your heroās love interest not actually interested in them because they realize they deserve better / Have the hero realize they donāt want the romantic subplot they thought they did
Have the love triangle become a polycule / have the two warring love interests get with each other instead, or both find someone they donāt have to compete for
Mid-redemption villain backslides at the Worst Moment Possible
Hero doesnāt actually have all the MacGuffins necessary at the Worst Moment Possible
Hero is simply wrong, about anything, about important things, about themselves
The character who knows too much still canāt warn their friends in time, but lives instead with the guilt of their failure
The mentor lives and becomes a bitter rival out to maintain their spot at the top of the charts
Kill the hero, and make the villain Regret Everything
More deadbeat missing parents, not just dead parents
Let the hero live long enough to become the villain
Why write a crown prince that never becomes king? Whatās the point of his story if all he does is remain exactly who he was on page 1 and learns nothing for his efforts? Why write a rookie racer if he spins out in the infield in the big race and ends his story broken and demoralized in a hospital bed? Why should we, the audience, spend time and emotional investment on a story that goes nowhere and says nothing?
Cinderella always gets a happy ending no matter how many iterations her story gets, because she wouldnāt be Cinerella if she remained an abused orphan with no friends. We like predictability, we like puzzling out where we think the story will go based on the crumbs of evidence we pick up along the way, we like interacting with our fiction and patting ourselves on the back when weāre proven right.
Tragedies exist. Thereās seven types of stories and the fall from grace is one of themā¦ but audiences can see a tragedy coming from a mile away. Audiences sign up for a tragedy when they pay for the movie ticket. We know, no matter how much we root for that character to make better choices, that their future is doomed. Tragedy is still cathartic.
Whatās not cathartic is being bait-and-switched by a writer who laughs and snaps pictures of our horrified faces just so they can say they proved us wrong. Congratulations? Go ahead and write the rookie broken in the hospital bed. I canāt stop you. Just donāt be shocked when no one wants to watch your misery parade march on by.
