The Hero’s Journey starts with a call, whether a desire or a conflict—a call for transformation. One of my favorites is Homer’s absolute epic banger, ‘The Odyssey.’ The story follows the King of Ithaca, Odysseus, on his journey back home. Convincing gods, fighting monsters, and still arriving on time before someone else weds your wife isn’t easy, but he doesn’t give up, making him the main character.

During one of my frequent unravelings on TikTok, I recently stumbled upon some content on low-effort relationships. The gist was because people thought they were the protagonists in any given situation(Main Character Syndrome), they didn’t put effort into their platonic and/or romantic relationships. I couldn’t disagree more. If anything, I would argue people who prefer low-effort relationships are almost always those who deem others’ perspectives of them more critical than their intrinsic desires and motivations, thus eradicating any possibility of being the main character. Let me explain.
All of us grow up with certain tendencies. Some of us are more reserved, while others are more outgoing. Based on our tendencies and our wishes, we develop strategies. While we grow up, our social adaptation strategies evolve. As our external and internal environments change, we act accordingly until early adulthood. Early adulthood is when we slowly become less concerned about achieving our desires and more concerned about how we are being perceived. Optics. Image cultivation can become one of the most inhibiting factors in an adult’s life, as it can(and will) kill creativity, authenticity, and connection.
Optics have always existed in our lives, but aspirational norms have changed drastically. At one point, chivalry, kindness, and ambition were considered aspirational, but now being detached, uncaring, and unfazed is deemed more desirable, which is rather underwhelming. Exploring how this correlates with wellness culture could be an interesting point to consider. Everything mildly uncomfortable gets pathologized to the point where human interactions are expected to feel plain—beige aesthetics. Sanitary. Tough conversations are to be avoided rather than had. Conflict shouldn’t arise; if it does, the relationship is considered doomed. There must be no struggle. Does that sound like a main anything to you?
On the many, many quests of Odysseus, I can’t imagine at any point him laying on a chez-longue sipping Cuba Libre and saying, “Actually, you know what. I care too much. I’m making a fool of myself. Repeatedly. Perhaps Penelope and I aren’t meant to be together, you know. This long distance is just too much work. I’ll just chill here.”. No. It’s ridiculous to even think about it; worse, it’s boring. Main characters do not function without drive. Neither in stories nor in real life.
The main characters are ,by nature, high effort. Despite there being moments of giving into fatalism, most of their character arcs are based on doing, not being. While I agree that Main Character Syndrome is slightly silly, it’s also good that people take themselves seriously and put themselves at the center of their lives. Westerners tend to take this for granted, but in many cultures, collectivism triumphs, and MCS would be considered a transgression. Not even mentioning the gender axis.
Keeping to the point, I genuinely think if we dissect it to its core what we’re seeing now with low-effort relationships isn’t tied to Main Character Syndrome. If anything -and if I must name it (I want to), we can call it the Ascent of the Sidekick.
The ‘Guy Who Chills on the Sofa,’ with little to no locus of control and character development, revolves around the main character. This individual sacrifices himself whenever needed but secretly thinks he is somehow superior to the protagonist. What he does or doesn’t do is irrelevant; the sidekick’s existence is based on what the protagonist expects of him. Filled with deep shame for who he is and what he desires, he never dares to be original or take initiative (unless pushed by the main character). Still, beneath his sacrificial wisdom and effortlessness, he believes he occupies a moral high ground—a compensatory ego for his lack of vitality and personality. While every trope has its exceptions, the idea remains the same: NPCs have always existed and will always exist. Having a dramatic facade and a platform won’t make them protagonists; at best, they will be sidekicks in shiny outfits.
You deserve better; you deserve your own story.
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