Why I Never Chose Godlike Powers

Summary

The author reflects on their childhood preference for creating a hero with limitations over one with godlike powers, recognizing the importance of challenges in defining heroism and personal growth.

Abstract

As a child, the author engaged in imaginative play with action figures, choosing to endow their hero with limitations rather than unbeatable power. This decision, which persists into adulthood, is pondered in the context of character development and the nature of heroism. The author suggests that true strength and nobility arise from overcoming trials and understanding one's weaknesses, drawing parallels with the virtuous deeds of knights. The narrative explores the idea that limitations are crucial for growth, self-discovery, and the forging of a noble character, as they provide the necessary challenges that define a hero's worth.

Opinions

The author believes that the value of limitations is fundamental in shaping a character's journey and in the pursuit of greatness.
They posit that an unchallenged life lacks the potential for growth and enlightenment, implying that struggle is essential for personal development.
The author suggests that their childhood self intuitively understood the importance of earning greatness through one's actions and choices, rather than being granted it through inherent power.
They contrast their own views on power and heroism with those of their brother, who preferred to imagine a character with invincible, godlike abilities.
The author emphasizes that heroism is defined not by power, but by the character's actions and the moral choices they make in the face of adversity.
They hint at a possible influence of stories like 'The Knights of the Round Table' on their understanding of virtue and heroism.
The author acknowledges the possibility that their preference for limited heroes could have been a phase or an attempt to assert individuality, but ultimately concludes that it reflects a deeper insight into the human condition.

On the Question of Character and the Value of Limitations

Avengers: Endgame (2019) — www.reddit.com

I sometimes forget that children are capable of understanding abstract constructs even before they reach higher levels of education or social understanding. Despite their age, kids learn quickly, at times in a fiercer manner than adults, and they can even play with ideas that are complex enough to perplex their parents. By these constructs I mean ideas such as love, faith, virtue, and evil. This isn’t to say they understand on a mature level, but they can at least play with the ideas they don’t understand.

This reminds me of the times in which my younger brother and I played with our action figures. We loved to bring out our toys, set them up as characters of our imagination, and I would pick my protagonist (usually Batman) while my brother picked his (probably He-Man or some other muscular figure). The stories we created were phenomenal! There were arcs to our characters as they learned new things and grew stronger with every adventure, and when we realized that two hours had gone by we would leave the toys there and pick up the story the following day.

When we created these adventures of ours, my brother and I would give our characters abilities or powers, since we liked superheroes. And this is where it got interesting.

My brother was accustomed to giving his character extraordinary powers — Godlike powers — where he was invincible and had all the coolest abilities he could think of. No one could defeat him.

I wonder why I didn’t choose the same.

I gave my hero powers so that he could be great, but I limited him.

Why did I do that?

Did I see this in a movie at some point? I liked stories and all but I wasn’t adept enough to understand story arcs and the purpose of character growth. Was it an intuition of mine — that my character would have nothing to prove should he be Godlike? Or did I subconsciously choose to be weaker than my brother because that’s how I felt about myself? I was a gentle kid; I never wanted to fight anyone. Was this why I decided to give my character limits?

In retrospect, I believe my brother and I were playing with the idea of power. We were “discussing” what power was, what it meant, and how we would use our power if we had it. My brother wanted to be all powerful, for no one to be able to stand against him, or perhaps he wanted to choose to pave his character’s path in such a way that he was certain he would never fail.

But I didn’t want that.

Maybe I chose limits because it was different from what my brother chose. We sometimes wanted to establish our individuality in even the subtle ways, like stating our favorite color or ice cream flavor. It could be that this was a child phase and nothing more.

But I don’t think this was the case, for even to this day, whenever we talk about the kinds of powers we wish we could have, my brother doesn’t place limits in his imagination while I do. Only now, I think I know the reason why.

A hero is heroic not because of his power, but because of who he is when he uses it, and the hero can only know who he is when he faces trials. Challenge builds the character; reveals it. Only through conflict of either the body or mind can a person forge themselves into something good, better, or noble. At that point, I was into The Knights of the Round Table, read all about them and their tales of heroism and adventure, and as one should know, a knight is not a knight by title. A knight is a knight by virtuous deeds.

How can a man grow stronger, be enlightened, or become noble if he never has to put his life or character on the line to reveal himself? A man with power — Godlike power — faces no stakes, is challenged by no trials, because he has nothing to lose and nothing to gain.

The hero who is limited can achieve greatness because he has weaknesses to overcome — limits to discover — and when he discovers where his true strength lies, that’s when he knows who he is.

I wonder if I understood this as a kid: an unchallenged life has no room for growth or enlightenment. Through a simplified notion, or by intuition alone, I sensed the value of limitations in a person’s life; not of hardship, but of overcoming it; not of the awareness of our weaknesses, but of the discoveries of our strengths.

Of course, I could be merely speculating on the truth of why I placed these limitations on my character. I don’t know why I avoided desiring all the power I could ever want. All I know is I was a kid who wanted to prove himself. I wanted to be great, but not because I was bestowed with great powers. I wanted to earn the title of greatness. In all that play, in all my wondering, I’ve always wanted to know that I was worthy because of who I was, what I chose to do, and nothing more.