A lot of players love having badass characters. I promise pretty much everyone at your table will readily admit that they hope their character becomes a level 20 badass!

But nobody will agree on what being a badass means. Eventually, one player will call another player’s character a badass, and then the matter is settled. But there is an inherent danger in trying to create a badass character: If everyone in the group is a badass, doesn’t that make them all average?

Well let’s get this out of the way: I am not a badass expert. I just have a few characters that have successfully achieved Badass Status. And I know a few players who have done the same. So with that foundation, I’d like to take a stab at providing advice on How to be a Badass. Read on, if you dare…

Being a badass means you are an original.

Remember what I said about the inherent danger of building a badass character? Everyone is trying to do the same. The Green Power Ranger was a badass… unless he was fighting alongside the other Power Rangers. Then he was just another Power Ranger. The Power Rangers were badass, as a group… until they encountered the Ninjetti, or the Alien Rangers, or any of the other dozens of Power Rangers groups scattered throughout the universe.

There are four types of badasses out there. Don’t be like them, because they’re old and boring tropes by now:

The Lone Wolf. You see this guy a lot in anime. He rarely speaks, usually has a chip on his shoulder, and basically spends all his free time cleaning his guns or sharpening his knives, or doing pull-ups. He has no friends, only enemies. And he’s spent literally his entire life training at the Secret Mountaintop Badass Academy and has forfeited all semblance of social skills in exchange for combat prowess. The Surprising Old Dog, aka “You wouldn’t part an old man from his walking stick, would you?” Unfortunately, they’re not surprising anymore, not since Gandalf threw down his gray robes and revealed himself to be Gandalf the White. We’re supposed to believe that the frail old man or woman we see is incapable of any sort of violence short of tripping over their bathroom and breaking their own hip. Alas, the rules of roleplaying games are pretty strict in this regard: The longer a character survives, the more XP they earn; the more XP a character earns, the higher level the character becomes; with great levels comes great power. Ultimately, nobody ever gets past their prime in RPGs, they just keep racking up power until their hubris destroys them, or they live long enough to see themselves become the villain. By the way, yes. If your GM introduces you to a Surprising Old Dog, they will be revealed to be the main villain in the campaign later. Stab them in the face first chance you get and make your GM cry. The Porcupine. This chick is positively bristling with weaponry. And is probably an expert in all of them. She’s so encumbered with badass armor and weaponry, she’s ditched any sort of personality to make room for a set of 13 throwing knives. These characters become so concerned with looking badass, they forget to actually BE badass. The Blood Machine. On the surface, these characters appear to be incredibly badass. They leave a vast trail of destruction and sorrow in their wake. Everywhere they go, orphanages burn and people die. But there is a fatal flaw in thinking that Badass equates directly to Senselessly Violent: Building a career on slaughtering random, innocent people makes one Bad, or an Ass — but it means they’ll attract the attention of actual badasses that seek to put an end to their chaos, and actual badasses are something they are ill-prepared to handle, because they’ve misunderstood badassery their entire life.

Those are all bottom-tier badasses. Combining one or more of those types might get you a middle-tier badass if you’re creative enough. But you’re still ultimately just blatantly copying a tired trope.

“But what about Asher?” you cry! “He’s basically Altair/Ezio/Deadpool/Durzo Blint!” Fair comparisons. And indeed, he was inspired primarily by those characters, and even a few others. Inspiration is fine! But I try my best to ensure that Asher is his own person and that’s he different enough so that if he stood next to all those characters, he’d be very distinct. I’ll not dwell on all the many ways he is different, but I will point out the most important way.

In fact, this is my personal definition for being a badass:

Being a badass means you are able to do exactly what you say you will do.

Naturally, nobody will have a 100%, or even 90% success rate — especially in a game where we’re rolling dice. But this is about a slightly bigger picture. When Asher endeavors to kill someone, he succeeds. He’s worked hard to build such a reputation that when he promises to dig out someone’s intestines with his teeth over the course of an evening and tie a knot with their appendix using only his tongue — people believe him. Being a badass means he never has to threaten, he only has to promise.

My other badass character, Treillian Stormblade, became an incredibly powerful fighter. He became so skilled at powering through combat, that he boldly claimed the only one that could kill him was himself. He solidified his badassery when that prophesy actually came true, and he sacrificed himself to save the world! You see? He said only he can kill himself, and then only he killed himself. That’s bad ass!

Treillian’s nemesis, Lord Dison, was also a badass. He was once Treillian’s best friend, but split from the party during a feud with Treillian and his other companions. And he swore an unholy vengeance upon them, he likes of which they couldn’t fathom. And boy did he deliver! He took over a town, and became a dictator. He raised an army of volunteers and undead soldiers. He sent an entire battalion of skeletons just to kill one character. He lured other characters to a Lich’s dungeon and sold one character to the Lich, to be his eternal slave. By the time Treillian started raising his own army in defense, it was too late: Dison’s forces were far too powerful, and Dison commanded over a third of the continent. He imprisoned Treillian and promised that if Treillian did not bend his knee and serve as Dison’s second-in-command, Dison would deliver a fate worse than death. When Treillian refused, Dison turned Treillian into a seed, and planted him in a hidden temple, to grow into a tree over hundreds of years. Dison intended to return after 1000 years, cut the tree down, and build his throne out of the wood… and probably would have succeeded if not for the intervention of another group of badasses.

Which brings me to my third and final point:

Being a badass means being aware of, and seeking to push one’s limits.

Importantly, badasses do have limits. Being so badass at something means you’re probably not that great at something else. Asher’s not great in social situations. Treillian was never very smart. Dison was terrible at diplomacy. But they knew they had these limits! Asher lets others do the talking for the group most of the time, Treillian typically sought the advice of his wiser companions before making decisions, and Dison generally stuck to his tried-and-true method of simple dictatorship and war instead of attempting nuanced negotiations. At the same time, these badasses tried to push their limits: Asher has found some creative ways to make friends, Treillian would try to put himself in his mentors’ shoes when faced with difficult decisions, and Dison could, occasionally, make compelling arguments in the right situations.

If Asher never tried to navigate social encounters, he’d be a Lone Wolf. If Treillian never tried to think for himself, he’d be a Porcupine. If Dison had never tried to come to an understanding about his friends and foes, he’d be a Blood Machine.

So, think you’re a badass? If you’re original, if you can do exactly what you set out to do, and if you recognize and try to push your own limits, then yes, you are indeed a badass. And I’m sorry I doubted you.