Long form improvisation is impressive. It’s amazing that a group of people are able to start from nothing and create a story with a beginning, middle and end. It’s impressive to create any story, even one with a perfect protagonist. Billy Bob righteously sets off to make the world a better place and accomplishes this goal despite the evil villain. It's watchable and feels complete. The audience won't be disappointed.

However, the perfect protagonist isn't necessarily emotionally fulfilling. How can improvisers make audience members walk away from a show saying, “Wow, that was so sincere, those characters felt real”? It took me a long time to figure out, but I've compiled a list of tips which can help make protagonists feel more genuine and relatable.

Strong Objectives. Know why you want what you want.

Character objectives should be the driving force behind everything a protagonist does. Say you and I are in a show and our audience suggestion is “gardens”. I am the protagonist and I decide I want to build a garden.

That alone is not enough to drive a show. Sure, people sometimes want to build gardens. But, in order to face off with a determined villain and succeed, I need to have a deeply emotional reason. In an establishing scene I discover that a plot of land is for sale. I declare to my younger sister that I want to build a garden to honor our mother, who was well known for her green thumb. “We’ll have to do it together, though,” I insist, “that plot of land is too big for me to manage on my own.” She agrees to help me everyday after her singing lessons. We are now a driven team.

This objective will justify my resilience and persistence throughout the show. Furthermore, honoring one’s parents is a very human theme and will resonate with the audience.

Flaws. The protagonist is human and makes mistakes.

All great characters have flaws. Odysseus was too curious, Achilles too angry and Spongebob has trouble standing up for himself and disobeying Mr. Krabs. These things are relatable. My garden building protagonist needs to have flaws, too.

Maybe I don't go to my sister’s concert because I want to go to a fertilizer expo instead. She’s been reminding me about it for weeks and saved a seat for me in the front row. I still choose the expo. During the scene where she performs, an empty acting block sits center stage. She sings half heartedly.

My stubborn drive to complete this garden made me forget about why I was really building a garden in the first place. My family. I've become so obsessed with creating this link to my mother that I neglect the link I already have, my sister.

The climax of the show will be me standing in a finished but empty garden. “Why do I feel so lonely?” I wonder aloud, “Why don't I feel proud?”

Equal opposition. The villain is complex.

Every show needs a villain, and that villain is you. You need a strong objective that opposes mine. Why don't you want me to build my garden? Are you allergic to plants? Are you worried about how noisy the shovels will be? Simply disliking my motive doesn't feel strong enough. Try wanting something which directlyclashes with my motive.

Maybe we are vying for the same plot of land. You could be a rich tycoon who wants to build expensive condos. Or, even more emotionally driven, you could be the heir to your rich father’s legacy and want to build more of his condos.

The audience will identify with your scene where you tell your secretary about living in his shadow. “Not anymore! His last name is my last name, too! When those condos go up, everyone will see I'm every bit the business man he was!”

Your objective is selfish whereas mine is not. You want to drive up housing costs, I want to create a garden free to the public. I am honoring my mother, you are honoring yourself.

Here's the twist: my sister’s concert was at one of YOUR dad’s condos! YOU saw my name on the guest list and made sure to schedule it on the same day as the fertilizer expo! “Her family will be torn apart by greed just like mine was! She’ll have nobody to help maintain her garden! It’ll close down in mere weeks!” You cackle. The audience curses your name.

Time for an intermission.

The satisfying ending. Everyone’s true wants are fulfilled.

To resolve the story it's obvious what I must do. I must repair the relationship with my sister and help you love yourself. That's a lot to get done. Luckily, we have the whole second half to do it.

Maybe I'll set up a stage in the garden where my sister can perform weekly shows. I'll invite everyone, even you. In the final scene you’ll charge in and exclaim, “I'm tearing down this garden!” I offer you some fresh fruit salad.

You try it. “My dad and I used to make fruit salad together on the Fourth of July,” you whimper, “I've never had watermelon so sweet.” All along, your true want was to feel connected to your father somehow.

You wipe your eyes. We hug. The audience cheers. What an amazing show! Can you believe they did all of that just from the word “gardens”?