Video games used to be simple. You’d pick up a controller, guide a pixelated guy across the screen, and save a princess. He didn't say much. He didn't have to. For decades, male characters in video games were basically defined by how much damage they could take and how little they expressed about it. Think of Doomguy. He’s a suit of armor with a shotgun. That was the blueprint.
But things have shifted in a way that’s actually kind of wild to look back on.
We aren't just looking at polygons anymore. We’re looking at people. The "tough guy" trope hasn't disappeared—it’s just grown up. If you look at the trajectory from the early 2000s to right now, the way men are written in games has gone through a massive, sometimes messy, evolution. It’s not just about "representation" as a buzzword. It’s about better storytelling. It’s about realizing that a character who cries is often more interesting than one who just grunts and shoots.
The Era of the Silent Protagonist and Hyper-Masculinity
Early on, silence was a technical necessity. Limitations in hardware meant you couldn't have 40 hours of voiced dialogue. So, we got Link. We got Crono. These characters were blank slates. You were supposed to project yourself onto them.
Then came the "Dudebrow" era.
This was the mid-2000s. Gears of War. God of War (the original trilogy). Duke Nukem. These were male characters in video games designed around power fantasies. They had necks wider than their heads. They solved every problem with a chainsaw or a literal god-killing blade. Honestly, it was fun, but it was shallow. Researchers like Dmitri Williams have noted in past studies how these portrayals often reinforced a very specific, narrow view of masculinity—one where aggression was the only valid emotional outlet.
It was a cycle. Developers thought this is what "gamers" wanted, so they made more of it. It worked for a while. But players eventually got bored of the same gravelly voice and the same tragic backstory involving a dead wife or daughter used purely as a plot device.
The Dadification of Games: A Turning Point
Around 2013, something changed. We call it "The Dadification of Video Games."
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Look at The Last of Us and the 2018 reboot of God of War. These games took established archetypes of male characters in video games and forced them to care about someone else. Joel Miller isn't just a survivor; he’s a grieving father who is terrified of being a father again. Kratos, the guy who literally ripped the head off Helios in a previous game, is suddenly struggling to tell his son he loves him.
It was a massive risk for Sony.
Kratos went from a one-dimensional rage monster to a nuanced study of generational trauma. He’s still a badass, sure. But his "badassery" is now tempered by restraint. That’s a huge shift. It showed that you can keep the action but add a layer of vulnerability that makes the stakes feel real. When Kratos puts his hand on Atreus' shoulder and then pulls it back, it carries more weight than any boss fight ever could.
Breaking the Mold: Vulnerability and Diversity
The "Dad" trope was a great bridge, but it wasn't the end goal. Lately, we’ve seen male characters in video games who don't fit the warrior mold at all.
Take Disco Elysium. You play as Harry Du Bois. He’s a mess. He’s an alcoholic, he’s out of shape, and he’s frequently pathetic. But he’s also one of the most deeply human characters ever written. He isn't a power fantasy. He’s a failure fantasy. And players loved it. It turns out, seeing a man struggle with his own mind is just as compelling as seeing him fight a dragon.
Then you have characters like Arthur Morgan from Red Dead Redemption 2.
Arthur is fascinating because he exists right on the edge of the old world and the new. He’s a violent outlaw, but the game spends hours forcing you to sit with his thoughts. He writes in a journal. He expresses genuine fear of dying. He questions his loyalty to a father figure who is clearly manipulative. This isn't the stoicism of the 90s. This is a man realizing his entire worldview is crumbling.
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We also have to talk about how masculinity intersects with different cultures and identities now.
- Miles Morales brought a different energy to the Spider-Man mantle, focusing on community and family in a way Peter Parker’s earlier stories sometimes missed.
- Ichiban Kasuga from the Yakuza/Like a Dragon series is a total subversion. He’s loud, he wears his heart on his sleeve, and he deeply values his friends. He’s "manly" in a way that is joyful rather than brooding.
Why This Matters for the Industry
This isn't just about "feeling good." It’s about money and longevity.
The gaming audience is more diverse than ever. If you only make games for one specific type of guy, you’re leaving money on the table. But more importantly, you’re limiting the art form. Characters like Jin Sakai in Ghost of Tsushima work because his conflict is internal. He has to choose between his honor (the old way of being a man) and his survival (a new, "dishonorable" way). That tension is what keeps people playing for 60 hours.
There’s also the E-E-A-T factor (Experience, Expertise, Authoritativeness, and Trustworthiness) in how these characters are built. Developers are now hiring consultants and specialized writers to ensure that male characters from different backgrounds—whether they are gay, trans, or from specific ethnic backgrounds—feel authentic. They aren't just skins anymore. They have histories.
The Future: Where Do We Go From Here?
We’re starting to see the "Stoic Badass" become a relic. It won't ever fully die, and that's fine. Sometimes you just want to play as Master Chief and blow things up. But the standard for a "great" character has moved.
We’re seeing more room for:
- Emotional Intelligence: Characters who can articulate why they are angry or sad.
- Non-Violent Conflict: Games where masculinity isn't tied to the ability to kill.
- Complex Relationships: Friendships between men that aren't just about "the mission."
Think about Final Fantasy XV. That whole game is basically a road trip with four guys. Most of the game isn't about fighting; it’s about them eating together, taking photos, and supporting each other. It was a radical departure for the series, and it resonated because it felt like a real friendship.
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Actionable Insights for Players and Creators
If you’re a writer or just a fan of the medium, pay attention to the "silent moments" in games. That’s where the character lives.
- Look for Internal Conflict: The best male characters in video games right now are those who are at war with themselves, not just an external villain.
- Support Indie Devs: Some of the most daring subversions of masculinity are happening in the indie space. Games like Hades or Celeste (which features a complex male supporting cast) push boundaries that AAA games are sometimes too scared to touch.
- Demand Better Writing: Don't settle for the "dead wife" trope. We've seen it a thousand times. Praise games that give their male leads a reason to exist beyond revenge.
The "tough guy" isn't dead. He’s just finally learning how to talk about his feelings. And honestly? It’s about time. The games are better for it. The stories are richer. And the players, regardless of their own gender, are getting much more meaningful experiences.
To really see this in action, go back and play the original Resident Evil and then play the Resident Evil 4 Remake. Look at Leon Kennedy. In the original, he’s a bit of a cardboard cutout. In the remake, he’s haunted, sarcastic, and clearly dealing with some serious PTSD. He’s still a hero. He’s just a human one now.
That’s the difference. That’s the growth.
Next Steps for Deepening Your Knowledge
To better understand the evolution of character design, you should look into the concept of Ludonarrative Dissonance. This occurs when the story tells you a character is one way (e.g., "a good man"), but the gameplay forces them to act in another (e.g., "killing hundreds of people"). Studying how modern games like The Last of Us Part II or Spec Ops: The Line try to bridge this gap will give you a much deeper appreciation for the writing challenges involved in creating modern male protagonists.
Check out the "GDC Vault" (Game Developers Conference) for talks by writers like Neil Druckmann or Cory Barlog. They go into extreme detail about the psychological profiling they use to build these characters. It’s a masterclass in how to turn a bunch of pixels into someone you actually care about.