The Western hero’s journey is a celebrated narrative arc, where triumph comes through endurance and overcoming hardship. However, these stories have also instilled a cultural mindset of silent perseverance that extends beyond fiction. Generations raised on tales of stoic heroes have internalized the notion that pain is inevitable and must be borne without complaint. Too, it has created a new reason to escape into the ignobility of never really trying.
While the hero’s journey inspires, it also reveals a darker legacy: the glorification of individual struggle. It creates a tone and ambivalence—that, for a fulfilled life, pain and struggle are to be expected. This has left many feeling isolated, burdened by the expectation to face life’s hardships alone. It’s time to rethink the use of this narrative and explore how storytelling can evolve without losing the powerful central figures that captivate us.
The Loneliness of Being a Hero
Western storytelling often elevates the lone protagonist, whose grit and determination define their path to victory. These characters—be they cowboys, soldiers, or adventurers—operate under a personal code, rarely asking for help or forming deep bonds. While this image resonates with ideals of independence, it also paints a narrow picture of success.
In our lives, the reality of solitary struggle often leads to disconnection rather than triumph. This is extremely common in Western men and leads to mental illness and not going to the doctor. Unlike fictional heroes, we rarely emerge from hardship unscathed, and the absence of support systems can leave lasting emotional and psychological scars. But does this mean the hero’s journey should be abandoned altogether? No, of course not. Should we be aware of what we create and consume? Yes, most definitely.
Preserving the Main Protagonist
Some modern critiques of storytelling suggest decentralizing the main protagonist to focus more on collective narratives. While this approach has its merits, there’s a risk of diluting the hero’s arc to the point of losing its emotional impact. At its worst, we can end up with a carnival troupe collectively bouncing off one another and stumbling into an new situation. That might be entertaining, but it can also become contrived, formulaic, and full of patterns.
A protagonist doesn’t need to endure alone to remain compelling. And it could be easily argued that a soloist journey doesn’t make the best story. Great storytelling can balance a strong central figure with meaningful relationships and contributions from others. Consider Samwise Gamgee in The Lord of the Rings: while Frodo is the story’s core, Sam’s support adds depth and humanity to the journey. The lesson? A hero can still shine when surrounded by a supportive cast. One hobbit walking into Mordor would be… improbable and a stretch. That said, one cursed soul walking into Lordran did find success. What are the commonalities?
Writers can preserve the power of the hero’s journey by crafting protagonists who grow not just through suffering but through connection. These characters can still face monumental challenges, but their victories resonate more when shared with those around them… or when factored into a greater continuity or unravelling.
Given the state of the real world—accounting for increased connectivity, information overload, the mental wellness of each living generation, and a contextualization of genre and subgenre requisites—should we consider that walking into Mordor and Lordran… wasn’t pleasant? They each story established a subconscious norm? This isn’t too say they aren’t great stories. And I’m not saying they shouldn’t be experienced. But what if the popularity of these stories, to just pick one aspect, is an expression of both a social symptom as well as the characteristic that’s causing it?
Characters as Creative Projections
Stories are often reflections of their creators. Characters—especially protagonists—serve as vessels for the author’s struggles, desires, and questions. In this sense, every hero’s journey is also a personal journey, shaped by the experiences and perspectives of the writer. That might sound like a jab and a self-inflicted wound, but hear us out.
This projection can be both illuminating and limiting. An overly personal connection to characters may lead to repetitive themes or narratives that alienate broader audiences. Recognizing this dynamic allows creatives to strike a balance, using personal insight to enrich storytelling without becoming trapped in their own experiences.
Equally important is acknowledging that creative work thrives on collaboration. While writing is often viewed as a solitary pursuit, building a network—of fans, collaborators, or peers—can elevate both the creator and their stories. While Frodo’s story was written by Tolkien, the movies that brought the story to millions were a massive undertaking. Same with the Dark Souls game. We can’t say that everyone involved was a wounded creative projecting their pain and struggle on their projects. But, we can say they likely experienced a hero’s journey to see the work through to the end. And that… is the point. Western society has drilled this journey into its society. The bravest and most difficult thing to do, is to replicate the achievement. In itself, that’s fine. But for everyone saying dystopic stories are going to fade away because of the real world patterns they observe, surely there’s some piece of truth in the repeated imprint of the hero’s journey upon our imaginations and escapism.
Why We Need to Stop and Look Up
The hero’s journey isn’t bad. It’s a centuries-old tool for telling stories. Without it, we would have lost a great deal of what we know about ourselves and what got humanity to its present place. That said, it isn’t the only way to tell a story, and in a lot of ways it’s become a mechanical, dissociative expression of storytelling that’s gained a lot of attention from the Western establishments of politics, corporations, universities, and entertainment. It fills social media, digital ads, newspaper stories, and even AI images. It’s effective.
In a time in which resilience involves an increasing notion of something outside labor, perhaps we as creatives and the audience should seek to pause our footsteps, set down the weight on our backs, and take a moment to look around. Smell the roses. Describe the thorns as something more than an obstacle or a pain in our foot.
So we ask you: What does that look like? While the genres and subgenres that bring us joy and entertainment won’t be going away… while they in fact subdivide and become sharper in application… how do we, within Western society, evolve as well? Is the solution to look outside our immediate surroundings and gain an appreciation for other stories? Or do we do as we’ve done for a long, long time and pick up the weight of forging a new path?
Conclusion
The Western hero’s journey has left an indelible mark on storytelling and culture, celebrating resilience while unintentionally glorifying solitary struggle. As we reconsider its legacy, we must find ways to balance the hero’s independence with the richness of connection. So much of the world is in need of a major dose of community right now.
Preserving the protagonist’s central role doesn’t mean isolating them, and characters often become more relatable when shaped by their creator’s experiences. For writers and creatives, this journey isn’t just about crafting stories—it’s about building the relationships that speed up learning and experimentation.
By evolving the hero’s journey, we can create narratives that inspire not just independence but also the strength found in collaboration.
