Snidely Whiplash ties Nell Fenwick to a railroad track, much to the consternation of Dudley Do-Right. Why has Snidely done this? Clearly, his intention was not to halt the train. He wasn't out to kill Nell either. He could have merrily slit her throat with the razorblade he undoubtedly keeps hidden within the confines of his black cape. Was his goal to anger and frighten Dudley Do-Right? No, because no matter the predicament Nell is placed in, Dudley never panics. Thus, the only logical conclusion is that Snidely does 'bad' things because he is a 'bad' guy. There is no end goal to his villainy, like a true artist, he's bad for bad's sake.
A cartoon yes, but sadly villainy in its more mature forms often fairs little better than the black-clad Snidely Whiplash in terms of being remotely understandable.
A case in point is Tad William's Memory, Sorrow and Song series. The series' villain, Pyrates, is so vicious that in his first scene he crushes a puppy with his boot. While the dog was yapping at his heels and indeed deserving of a good boot to the skull, the imagery is so blatant and so evil that it borders on Snidely Whiplash's compulsive habits with trains, ropes and women.
In Robert Jordan's immense Wheel of Time series (it outlived the author) the arch-villains routinely murder, lie, steal, enslave and in general spread chaos wherever they go. At no point do they contemplate the end-goal of their master, the Dark One, who seems to want a world of poisonous sand, crumbled monuments, and a suspicious lack of people. If they villains of Jordan's world were like the cultists from HP Lovecraft's series it might make sense. Lovecraft's cultists honestly believe the privilege of being eaten by the Old Ones first is supremely better than being eaten later. However, Jordan's evil characters are filled with ambition and the strong desire to survive despite there being no indication the Dark One wants anyone to disturb his sandbox with noisome breathing.
JRR Tolkien's beloved series is no better, with demonic, vile monsters out to turn the world into apparently one giant volcano. In of itself, such a foe could be understood, monsters being what they are, but what does not make sense are the humans who rally to the black banner. Who fights for the glory of living on the slopes of an erupting Mount Vesuvius? Apparently, formerly wise wizards, pirates and vaguely Middle Eastern fellows who ride enormous elephants.
What has become of villainy that most evil characters are no better than Snidely? We can do better. We have done better! This doesn't mean sadistic maniacs who desire a fiery end to the world are to be eschewed, but at least make them understood. Nothing makes villainy more profound than a genuine cause.
Darth Vader, despite being responsible for the deaths of a few billion Alderanians, and his master Emperor Palpatine, made sense. Evil? Yes. The Darth Vader school of management advises strangling underperformers. Meanwhile, the Emperor's hobby is building world-busting battle-stations. However, both made it quite clear their end goal was a peaceful, orderly universe. Every action, no matter how wicked, at least was in the context of extinguishing a rebellion and bringing security to the galaxy, whether the galaxy liked it or not.
In Sandy Mitchell's Warhammer 40,000 series revolving around Ciaphas Cain, the main character is a liar, cheat, coward and thus a villain. However, knowing full well that outright villains tend to draw a lot of fire, Cain roams the galaxy avoiding danger and turning every moment into a chance to glorify himself. It is through his cowardly actions that he accidently ends up being propped up as a hero time and again. Every act he makes is thoroughly explained and reasoned out. He is an anti-hero that, because of his rationale, becomes identifiable and someone the reader can care about, even if they don't agree with him.
Even monsters can make sense. Mary Shelly's Frankenstein portrayed the monster as someone who was driven to acts of violence by an unforgiving world. Being a collection of charnel house body-parts roughly sewed together and pumped filled with life-giving chemicals, one can understand why the monster had a hard go of it. His hatred toward Victor Frankenstein has a reason behind it and though the monster is undoubtedly evil (he murders Victor's wife on their wedding night), he is understandable and a more memorable villain than any puppy-crushing wizard could be.
Evil needs a purpose, or it needs to be so alien as to represent senseless horror as we might expect from a Lovecraftian god or a hungry beast. It is when human villains act senselessly that evil gets a bad name. Such bad men are no better than Snidely Whiplash, and while they may shock readers with acts of outrageous violence, they are ultimately shallow and thus incapable of much more than showy murders. So, the next time you find yourself writing, perhaps give your evil characters a bit of motive beyond destruction and give them a bit of common sense. Sure, the puppy, in all its cuteness, deserves to die, but stomping on it is no better than stepping on the reader's face while laughing maniacally. Perhaps it might be better for the furry pest to just vanish one day and your villain just happens to have a new dog-skull cane in hand the next day. If you find yourself reading, be sure to judge the villains of any story harshly. Demand a better evil for a darker tomorrow!
Richard Marsden is the author of recently released The Traveling Tyrant. More information about the book can be found at TravelingTyrant.com. More information about Richard and his work can be found on his official blog, The Works of Richard Marsden.
