You know that feeling when you finish a 64-episode series and it feels like you've actually lost a group of friends? That’s the Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood effect. Most shonen anime lean on one or two heavy hitters while the supporting cast just kind of exists to fill background space or get beaten up to show how strong the villain is. Hiromu Arakawa didn't do that. She built a clockwork world.
The Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood characters aren't just tropes with cool powers. They're people driven by trauma, political ambition, and a really messy understanding of "Equivalent Exchange."
Honestly, the reason people keep coming back to this show—even decades after the manga first dropped—isn't just the alchemy. It’s the way a side character like Jean Havoc or a "villain" like Scar has a full, heartbreaking arc that actually matters to the ending. Every gear turns another. If one person isn't there, the Promised Day fails. Simple as that.
The Elric Brothers and the Weight of Sin
Edward Elric is short. Don’t tell him I said that. But his character growth is massive. He starts as this arrogant prodigy who thinks he can fix death with a chalkboard and some chemicals. By the end? He’s a guy who realizes that being "just a human" is actually his greatest strength. It’s a complete reversal of the standard "get stronger to win" power fantasy.
Then you’ve got Alphonse. Al is the soul of the show, literally. Living in a suit of armor for years does something to a kid's head. He deals with an existential crisis that would break most adults—questioning if his memories are even real or just something Ed fabricated.
The dynamic works because they aren't perfect. They screwed up. Big time. The series isn't about them saving the world; it’s about them trying to fix the mistake they made as children. That grounded motivation makes the high-stakes alchemy battles feel personal rather than just "world-ending threat #4."
Why the Military Cast Isn't Just Background Noise
Amestris is a military dictatorship. That’s a weird setting for a "hero" story, right? But characters like Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye make it work.
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Mustang is complicated. He’s a war criminal. The show doesn't shy away from the Ishval Civil War. It’s grim. He wants to become Fuhrer not because he loves power, but because he wants to be high enough in the chain of command to put himself and his colleagues on trial for what they did. That is heavy stuff for a "cartoon."
- Riza Hawkeye: She’s the moral compass with a sniper rifle. Her relationship with Roy is built on a "check and balance" system. She literally has permission to shoot him in the back if he strays from his path.
- Olivier Mira Armstrong: The Northern Wall of Briggs. She doesn't have alchemy. She just has a sword, a cold stare, and zero tolerance for "survival of the fittest" nonsense if it means abandoning her subordinates.
- Maes Hughes: We don't talk about Hughes without getting emotional. His role was to show the human cost of the conspiracy. He wasn't a super-soldier; he was a dad who knew too much.
The Homunculi: Seven Shades of Human Flaw
The villains in Brotherhood are fascinating because they’re personified sins, but they often crave the very thing they despise: humanity.
Take Greed. He’s the fan favorite for a reason. His "greed" eventually evolves from wanting money and women to wanting friends he can protect. It’s a weirdly wholesome character arc for a monster.
Then there’s Envy. That final scene with Envy in the underground? It’s pathetic. It’s not a grand boss battle; it’s a small, ugly creature being forced to admit it’s jealous of how humans keep moving forward despite being weak. It turns a monster into a tragic figure in about five minutes of dialogue.
King Bradley (Wrath) is probably the most terrifying. No regenerative powers, no weird shapeshifting—just a middle-aged guy with a sword who is faster than you. His "humanity" is his most dangerous trait. He’s a husband and a leader, which makes his cold-blooded efficiency even more unsettling.
The Ishvalan Perspective and Scar
Scar starts as a slasher-movie villain. He’s terrifying. He deconstructs people with his bare hands. But as the Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood characters develop, he becomes the lens through which we see the cycle of violence.
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His redemption isn't easy. It isn't "I'm good now, let's be friends." It’s a slow, agonizing realization that his revenge is just digging more graves for his own people. By the time he’s fighting alongside the military he hated, it feels earned because he’s spent the whole series unlearning his rage.
Female Characters Who Actually Do Things
Arakawa is a master at writing women. Winry Rockbell isn't just a "love interest." She’s a mechanic. Her skill with automail is literally the only reason Ed can keep fighting. Her confrontation with Scar is one of the most tense moments in the series—not because of a fight, but because of the choice not to shoot.
Then you have Izumi Curtis. "A housewife!" She’s the one who taught the Elrics how to fight and how to think. She’s a powerhouse who lives with the physical toll of her own failed human transmutation every single day.
The Ling Yao and May Chang Factor
The introduction of the Xingese characters in the second act could have felt like "filler," but Ling and May bring a different flavor of alchemy (alkahestry) and a different political stake. Ling’s willingness to share his body with Greed to save his clan shows a different kind of ambition compared to Mustang’s. It expands the world beyond the borders of Amestris.
What Most People Miss About the Cast
The genius of these characters is the "Chain of Support."
Look at the finale. It isn't just Ed punching a god. It’s the result of every single person we met over 60 episodes doing one specific thing.
- The Briggs soldiers holding the line.
- Lan Fan sacrificing an arm.
- Hohenheim spending centuries setting up a counter-circle.
- Even Yoki—the comic relief—pulling through in a clutch moment.
It’s a narrative where no one is truly "useless." Even the minor characters have a moment where the entire plot hinges on their specific expertise or choice.
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Actionable Insights for Fans and Writers
If you're looking to understand why these characters resonate so deeply, or if you're trying to write your own, keep these takeaways in mind:
- Flaws as Anchors: Every character in FMA:B is defined by what they lost or what they lack. Ed’s missing limbs, Al’s missing body, Mustang’s lost sight, Scar’s lost homeland. These aren't just "backstory"; they dictate every decision they make.
- Consequence is King: Characters don't just "get over" things. Trauma in this show has physical and psychological weight. If a character uses a "cheat code" (like a Philosopher's Stone), there is always a horrifying price tag attached.
- The Power of Agency: Give side characters their own goals that have nothing to do with the protagonist. Kimblee doesn't care about Father’s plan; he just wants to see if the world will choose to survive. That makes him unpredictable and dangerous.
To really appreciate the depth here, re-watch the "Laboratory 5" arc. It’s where the series shifts from a quirky adventure into a deep dive into the ethics of the soul. Pay attention to Barry the Chopper—a literal serial killer who becomes an essential (and hilarious) ally. It’s that kind of character subversion that makes the show a masterpiece.
Go back and look at the first time we see Van Hohenheim. He seems like a deadbeat dad. By the end, he’s one of the most tragic and heroic figures in fiction. That’s the level of character writing we’re talking about here.
Next Steps:
If you want to dive deeper into the lore, start by comparing the 2003 anime's version of the Homunculi to the Brotherhood versions. The 2003 series treats them as the failed results of human transmutation, which adds a completely different, darker layer to the characters' relationships with their "creators." Seeing how the same character designs can serve two totally different thematic purposes is a masterclass in storytelling.
Also, track the color palettes of the characters. Notice how the Ishvalan characters often wear earth tones while the State Alchemists are draped in cold, imperial blue. It’s a subtle visual cue of the "unnatural" vs. "natural" conflict central to the plot.