1. Alerting the heroes when there’s a problem too large for the police.  Common examples include superpowered robberies and jail breaks.

2. Crowd control (clearing out civilians during or before a superpowered brawl).  This helps explain why civilians aren’t getting killed in the crossfire and gives the police something to do besides watch the fight.

3.  Helping the heroes avoid legal trouble.  Or, if the cop is REALLY friendly, helping them break out of jail.

4. Helping the superheroes maintain their secret identity.  “This picture of Superman turning into Clark Kent is obviously fake.  At the time it was allegedly taken, I was interviewing Clark Kent on the other side of town.”

5. Passing along messages and packages to the heroes, particularly from a villain.  When the Joker wants Batman to see something, the easiest middleman is the police because it wouldn’t make much sense if the Joker knew where to find Batman.

6. Delaying and/or thwarting hostile police officers. In many cases, some police officers are against the heroes, particularly if there’s an impostor or the heroes are not very careful about collateral damage.

7. Pointing the heroes to strange things that they should look into, particularly if regular police efforts have failed.  For example, maybe the police chief has axed an investigation into Lex Luthor because Luthor is a close friend of the mayor.

8. Possibly lending the heroes resources and equipment they wouldn’t otherwise have access to.  A superhero could probably buy a police-grade tape recorder (designed for concealment) for under a thousand dollars, but that wouldn’t help him much if he were a pizza delivery boy in junior high school.  Other technical equipment that might be helpful: a police scanner, video equipment, seized weapons or drugs (for setting up stings), maybe a helicopter ride, and specialized equipment like bomb defusing gear and maybe Geiger counters.  Depending on police-hero relations, the police officer’s assistance may be off the books–if anybody asks the officer, he can say he lost the equipment and is still looking.  Note: this explanation will probably not work for a helicopter.  Not even a captain would fall for “I lost a helicopter.”

9.  Providing access to police evidence. This is particularly useful if the heroes are more tanks than investigators and/or the author would rather write superpowered combat than a superpowered mystery.

10. Alerting the heroes to potential targets for crime and/or asking for help. It seems like some New York museum is always holding a poorly-guarded exhibit featuring magical artifacts.

11. Interfering with minor antagonists and doing cleanup work. For example, after the hero subdues the criminals, the police arrest them.  Depending on the nature of your story, it may be worth considering whether the police actually have enough evidence to convict the criminals of anything.  Otherwise, they’re gonna be back on the streets tomorrow).

12. Providing an occasional cover story for the heroes. Peter Parker can’t admit to his aunt that he missed curfew because the fight with the Green Goblin took longer than usual, but Nick Fury could “explain” that Peter witnessed a mugging and had to provide a witness statement at the police station.  Note: this probably works best if the officer knows the hero’s secret identity.

13. Boxing in the villain (early).  Early in the story, many villains need to pretend to be legitimate businessmen (or scientists or whatever), so police involvement can temporarily limit the options available to the villain. If the villain thinks the police are on to him, he may try to kill someone by staging an accident rather than shooting him, even though the victim has a greater probability of surviving.  Once the superheroes know what’s going on, secrecy matters much less to the villain and the police become much less useful.

• What’s the genre? (Action, comedy, sci-fi, fantasy, mystery, romance, horror, etc).
• What’s the subgenre? (Are we talking about an action with… Superheroes? Military/espionage? A natural disaster?  Adventurers? Vampires/supernatural creatures? Mythological figures? etc).
• What’s the inciting event?  (What event throws the main character out of his status quo/comfort zone?)
• What’s the main character like?  (Anything that makes him more interesting to prospective readers or suggests his role–CAUTION: naming him does not necessarily accomplish either)
• What’s the main antagonist like? (Same as for the protagonist)
• What’s the setting like? (Time and/or place)
• What’s the central goal of the main character and/or what’s at stake if he loses?
• What’s the author’s style like?
• Is there an interesting contrast between elements of the title?

If the title doesn’t nail at least three of these, I’d recommend rewriting it and/or starting over.  Here are some examples that I enjoyed.

Captain Freedom: A Superhero’s Quest for Truth, Justice, and the Celebrity He So Richly Deserves

• Main character: a highly self-entitled, egomaniacal superhero, maybe a parody of Superman
• Goal: celebrity and recognition
• Contrast: The idealistic, lofty name “Captain Freedom” vs. his preposterously petty goal.
• Author style: I’d totally pick this up, assuming I could survive the cover.

Saddam Hussein and the Hippies from Space

• Main character and antagonist: Either Saddam Hussein and the space hippies or vice versa
• Genre: science fiction/comedy
• Author’s style: Wow.  I love the contrast, too.

Autobiographies from Death Row

• Genre and subgenre: autobiography -> true crime
• Main character & setting: Readers can infer most of the stories feature violent felons in prison and/or crime-ridden areas
• Interesting contrast: Death Row inmates as authors.  Also, Death Row inmates writing in a genre that emphasizes introspection. 

Soon I Will Be Invincible

• Genre/subgenre: comedy -> superhero
• Main protagonist: a struggling supervillain seeking power
• Author’s style: I liked this character voice.
• Contrast: It sounds like the character wants vastly more for himself than he actually has or will ever achieve.

The Taxman Must Die (the comic book I’m writing)

• Genre: action/comedy
• Main character: a tax-collector running for his life
• Author’s style: I hope that readers can tell it’s got a wacky style.
• Contrast: Taxmen are about as unsuited for violence and assassination attempts as it gets.

John Quincy Adams kept a pet alligator in the White House.  (Not surprisingly, he faced no assassination attempts).

Unwacky: Brett Favre’s first completed pass was to himself.
Barely wacky: Austria’s World Cup team threw a key match to West Germany to screw Algeria.  The game got so bad the announcer asked viewers to change the channel.
Wackier: “You were like 50 feet away.  How could you be so sure that the ball crossed into the German goal?”  “Stalingrad.”
Outlandish: “The Band Is On the Field!”

Pretty much everything involving Aaron Burr, but especially the parts where he shot and killed the former Secretary of the Treasury and plotted to seize control of parts of Texas and the Louisiana Territories.

An Australian Prime Minister drowned while swimming.  His body was never recovered.

Coconuts kill ~15 times as many people per year as sharks.  In the United States, each deer is six times as likely to kill somebody as an alligator is.  (Hitting a deer with a car is much more dangerous).  On average, America’s 3 million alligators kill 1-2 Americans each year.  Each alligator is considerably less likely to kill a human in a given year than a priest or teacher is.

One of the World Trade Center bombers tried to collect the $400 deposit on the van used in the bombing by claiming that it had been stolen.  “And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for those darn VINs!”  Okay, maybe he didn’t say that.

Hoping to use the noise of laughter to mask the sound of his gunshot, John Wilkes Boothe waited until the funniest part of Our American Cousin to assassinate Abraham Lincoln.  Here it is: “Don’t know the manners of good society, eh? Well, I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal — you sockdologizing old man-trap…”

While researching how the military, doctors and police would respond to a zombie outbreak, Max Brooks (the author of World War Z) found that most of the professionals he spoke to had thought about such a scenario at least a little.  Relatedly, military officers sometimes war-game crazy stuff like ghost invasions to force themselves to think out of the box and test their initial assumptions.  Until 1939, the U.S. had a war plan against the United Kingdom.  Not to be outdone, the Canadians devised a 1921 plan to seize Seattle, Minneapolis and Albany to preempt a U.S. invasion.  Perhaps more unbelievably, the Canadian plan came first.

The Soccer War between El Salvador and Honduras.  Also, The War of Jenkins’ Ear.  The Rhode Island rebellion of 1842-3.

World War II, apparently.

So they invent a completely implausible superweapon that they’ve never mentioned until now. Apparently the Americans got some scientists together to invent it, only we never heard anything about it because it was “classified”. In two years, the scientists manage to invent a weapon a thousand times more powerful than anything anyone’s ever seen before – drawing from, of course, ancient mystical texts. Then they use the superweapon, blow up several Japanese cities easily, and the Japanese surrender. Convenient, isn’t it?

…and then, in the entire rest of the show, over five or six different big wars, they never use the superweapon again. Seriously. They have this whole thing about a war in Vietnam that lasts decades and kills tens of thousands of people, and they never wonder if maybe they should consider using the frickin’ unstoppable mystical superweapon that they won the last war with. At this point, you’re starting to wonder if any of the show’s writers have even watched the episodes the other writers made.

2. If your title does not appeal to prospective readers, start over! Some words that rarely mean much to prospective readers include fictional character and place names.  Alternately, some authors use puns.  If the reader immediately makes prospective readers smile, fine. If readers will only understand the pun after reading the work, they won’t ever find out how witty the pun is… because they won’t open the book.

3. Words unfamiliar to prospective readers are not typically effective. “But The Legend of Bjornistan will really draw readers!” Unless the audience is Bjornistani, it definitely won’t.

4. Avoid words that tell a prospective reader something he already knows. In particular, words like “story” (book, tale, legend, chronicle, ballad, myth, fable and the like) are spectacularly ineffective. Your readers can see it’s a book, so telling them it’s a story is probably an insult to their intelligence. Two exceptions: comedic effect or conveying information that might not be otherwise obvious. For example, a word like “autobiography” or “memoir” may tell us something we didn’t know before.

5. I think it’s generally effective to name chapters. If your chapters aren’t titled, your table of contents will look this bland:

–Chapter One: 1

–Chapter Two: 25

Readers will see this page before the story, and it’s more boring than professional blackjack. In contrast, a list of chapters with interesting titles may show off your style and entice readers to keep going.

1. Don’t Vote! (It Only Encourages Them): 1

2. The Empire State Strikes Back: 25

3. A Hurricane of Coconuts: 47

Are you wondering what I can do with a chapter called “A Hurricane of Coconuts”? Then you’ll probably make it to chapter 3.

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Realistic: the premise occurs or could easily occur in real life. Cops infiltrating the mob or students dealing with school, for example.  Most superhero stories don’t have very much realistic stuff going on, and that isn’t a problem.  Many premises give a superhero superpowers/capabilities through supernatural means such as science fiction, magic/occult, religion, etc.  The only thing that matters is whether the reader can maintain the suspension of disbelief.

Plausible: the premise sort of approaches something could happen at some point. One of the benefits of a plausible origin is that it makes it easier for readers to suspend their disbelief because you’re merely asking them to accept something that has not yet happened, rather than something that could not happen.  For example, scientists aren’t particularly close to making something like an Ironman-style powersuit yet, but most of the elements are viable (such as military-grade exoskeletons, personal jetpacks, and weaponized lasers).  Scientists can’t currently give somebody spider-based superpowers with genetic engineering, but it may be possible at some point to use animal DNA/proteins to greatly enhance human capabilities.  Hell, scientists have already made glowing corn out of jellyfish DNA.

(Glancing at the top-selling superhero comic book series over the past 25 years, I think that implausible origins such as magic/occult/religion probably make it harder for a comic book to gather readers.  There are a few exceptions, though, such as Spawn in the 1990s and more than a few Japanese series.  Happily, it’s much easier to find novel readers receptive to fantasy/implausibility).

Believable: every plot element fits the audience’s expectations about what is possible in the world you have built. Unlike realism and plausibility, this is not optional.  Throwing in a magical mobster on page 200 is poor writing not because magic is unrealistic and implausible but because it doesn’t fit the story and you haven’t prepared readers for it.  Generally, readers will assume that the parameters for the story are the same as in real life unless you specify otherwise.

One unexpected believability problem is that realistic events are not necessarily believable.  If I had a terrorist try to collect a $400 deposit on a van used in a bombing, very few readers would find that plausible even though it actually happened in the WTC bombing.  If something realistic is not inherently believable, help your readers believe it.  For example, I could portray the terrorist as wildly inept and give him some plausible reason to attempt to collect the deposit.  (Maybe he’s desperate for money after the FBI froze a critical bank account).

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I’ve never understood the appeal of the power to speak all or several languages in works of fiction, I’ve seen it numerous times in fan fiction, but it never really made sense to me. The whole point of characters going to places where the language barrier is an issue is, well, primarily because the language barrier is going to be an issue, with a few exceptions in a few plots, and discounting fantasy works. Why send Captain Superior to China if the fact that he is an American-born superhero isn’t going to matter? Couldn’t he just stay home and skip a panel or two of flying? How is it exotic if he can just wander into any McDonald’s and order like it was any other Friday?

I agree that it’s important to cut out extraneous elements.  However, I think there are some situations where foreign languages would add something to the story even if the main character can speak them.

1.  Some plots would not be believable without multiple languages. It would probably strain the reader’s suspension of disbelief if every alien in a space opera just happened to speak flawless English. One low-cost solution is to give the characters universal translators.  (If you later decide that you’d like to use linguistic barriers as an obstacle, you can have the translators malfunction or introduce a language that has not yet been decoded).  Or maybe we’re writing a novel about a CIA assassin.  He’s probably not working in an English-speaking country (unless U.S.-Canadian relations are far more interesting than they appear).  Because of his background, it’d make sense that he knew the local language.  If you’d like, you can work in linguistic barriers later by introducing characters that speak a language he doesn’t know.

2. Character development. At one point in Justice League (roughly 7:15-7:30 here), Batman tries interrogating a Kasnian terrorist.  The Kasnian says (in subtitled Kasnian) “You can’t understand what I’m saying and I wouldn’t tell you anything even if you did.”  Batman says, also in subtitled Kasnian, “I can… And you will.”  Besides being funny, this helps develop Batman as someone who is frightfully well-prepared for even the most unexpected scenarios.

In contrast, I find it more bothersome when a character randomly knows an obscure and/or difficult language even though it’s not consistent with his character.  For example, Chris Tucker’s character speaks Mandarin at the end of Rush Hour, which is strange because it doesn’t fit the character and he didn’t use Mandarin before, even though he had many opportunities to.  (The character is probably not cunning enough to explain this as feigning ignorance).

3. A language is known to some of the main characters, but not everybody. This would probably change the flow of conversations without making it spectacularly hard for the team to communicate in that language.  This could lead to interesting situations, particularly if they have to rely on a spectacularly undiplomatic character to speak for them.  (If you’d like to introduce linguistic barriers later, maybe the team has to split up at some point and one group has to work without a translator).

4. The language in question is not used for conversations. For example, if the character is an archaeologist who only uses his linguistic skills to read Babylonian tablets, you probably wouldn’t find yourself in an awkward situation where you have to repeatedly specify who is speaking which language, such as a conversation between two groups that are also conversing amongst themselves in their own languages.

“Before we build a factory in Kenya, we must have your assurance that your country can keep our employees safe,” said the Chinese executive.
“Can we keep the losses below a hundred?” the mayor asked his police chief in Swahili.
“Low hundreds,” responded the chief in Swahili.
“Security will absolutely not be a problem!” said the mayor to the executive.
“Not our problem, in any case,” he said to the chief in Swahili.

What do you think?  What other arguments are there for or against multilingual stories?

INVESTIGATOR: What were you doing yesterday afternoon?

SUSPECT JAKE: I was at Jill’s house.

INVESTIGATOR: Doing what?

SUSPECT JAKE:  We were watching the game.

INVESTIGATOR: Which one?

SUSPECT JAKE: The Bears game. [Note: make sure the Bears were actually playing on the day in question.]

INVESTIGATOR: How was the game?

SUSPECT JAKE: Awesome.

INVESTIGATOR: Does any play in particular stick out in your mind?

SUSPECT JAKE: Cutler threw a pretty sweet touchdown.  To Hester, I think.  [Note: The accuracy of this statement doesn't actually matter much.  Our goal here is to lock him into the "I saw a Bears game" story.  If it turns out that the Bears actually didn't play that day at a time consistent with his story, we want to know for sure that he's lying.   Otherwise, he may be able to claim that it might have been another team he saw].

INVESTIGATOR: What did you guys do for dinner?

SUSPECT JAKE: We ordered Chinese takeout.

INVESTIGATOR: During the game?

SUSPECT JAKE: No, after.

INVESTIGATOR:  From where?

SUSPECT JAKE: The Golden Palace. [Note: call the Golden Palace and see if they have a record of an order.  Make sure that the order was placed after the Bears game ended.  Also, speak with the delivery-boy to see if he can place Jake and/or Jill at the scene].

INVESTIGATOR: Who placed the order?

SUSPECT JAKE: Jill did.

INVESTIGATOR: What did you have?

SUSPECT JAKE: Orange chicken, I think.

INVESTIGATOR:  Was it good? [We don't actually care about his opinion of the food, of course--we're trying to lock him into a story again.  The more you get him to say about the food, the harder it is for him to back out later and say "well, it might have been Burger King.  I don't remember."]

SUSPECT JAKE: It was okay.

INVESTIGATOR:  What drink did you order?

SUSPECT JAKE: A Sprite.  [Check with the restaurant to make sure that they deliver drinks--some places don't.]

[end excerpt]

These questions give us a lot of information that can be proven true or false.  The Bears either were playing that day or they weren’t.  The Golden Palace either received an order after the Bears game or it didn’t.  The Golden Palace either delivers drinks or it doesn’t.

You can also interview other witnesses to make sure that their stories match up.  When Jill is asked what kind of food they had that night, will she say Chinese takeout?  (Note: Minor discrepancies, like naming a different Chinese restaurant, may be just fuzzy memories).  But if she says they went out to a burger place, then obviously at least one of them is lying.  When she gets asked who placed the order, will her answer line up with Jake’s (that she did?)  Does she remember what food Jake had?  (Understandably, she might not.  But if she remembers that he did have chicken and a Sprite, they’re either telling the truth or have rehearsed the lie unusually well).

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INCITING EVENT

• cheated on
• kidnapped
• impaled on a national landmark
• thrown out of a window
• mentally mutilated
• disowned
• fired
• hired
• drafted
• mugged
• kicked down the stairs
• put in the poor house
• brutally murdered
• psychically ravaged
• drop-kicked in Times Square
• publically serenaded
• mistaken for a felon
• exiled
• sent on a one-way trip to Djibouti
• interrogated
• sold a [adjective] pet
• implicated
• sold into slavery
• deceived
• misidentified
• sued
• infected
• ruined
• mistakenly tackled
• swindled
• blacklisted
• judo-chopped through a wall
• poisoned
• framed
• drunk under the table
• thrown into a pit of carnivorous gophers
• beaten in the World Series of Poker
• outed as a superhero
• humiliated
• betrayed
• forced to read Twilight
• thrown into a wood-chipper
• blackmailed
• tricked
• nearly decapitated
• rear-ended
• magically turned into a man-eating llama

ANTAGONIST

• the CIA
• rogue elements of the Brazilian government
• a shadowy conspiracy apparently involving [ANTAGONIST] and [ANTAGONIST]
• a [adjective] cabbie
• a [adjective] pizza boy
• a [adjective] henchman of [ANTAGONIST]
• Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz
• West Virginia’s Postmaster General
• a deranged scientist
• a [adjective] Mensa splinter group
• a [adjective] ex-lover
• a [adjective] caddy
• a [adjective] terrorist
• Benjamin Franklin, alive and [adjective]
• a [adjective] jury foreman
• a [adjective] American Idol semi-finalist
• three cheerleaders and [ANTAGONIST]
• a [adjective] mob of tween girls
• the town coroner
• a psychopath that believes himself to be Batman
• a psychopath that actually is Batman
• a [adjective] assassin
• a Playboy centerfold working for [ANTAGONIST]
• a [adjective] sorcerer
• the publishing industry
• a [adjective] mentor
• a [adjective] prosecutor
• a [adjective] businessman
• a notably [adjective] company
• the world’s most [adjective] clown
• New Guinea
• FIFA
• Oasis, the best British band since the Beatles
• Jerry Bruckheimer
• a [adjective] squirrel
• a [adjective] doctor whose medical studies were apparently limited to mass murder

PROTAGONIST

• a thinly-veiled stand-in for the author
• Dan Brown
• a [adjective] teenager
• a [adjective] plastic surgeon
• a [adjective] hippie
• Richard Nixon
• the [adjective] ghost of Martin Luther King, Jr.
• a [adjective] scientist
• two unlikely partners, [PROTAGONIST] and [PROTAGONIST],
• a [adjective] dinosaur
• a [adjective] Zamboni driver
• a [adjective] Squeegee master
• a [adjective] mailman
• the new kid at school
• a [adjective] whistleblower
• a British spy with major commitment issues
• a [adjective] ninja
• a [adjective] athlete
• a cruel but occasionally [adjective] blogger
• a [adjective] publisher’s assistant
• a [adjective] porn star
• a [adjective] academic who is not at all Dan Brown
• a [adjective] cop
• a [adjective] USAF communications officer
• a [adjective] priest
• a [adjective] zombie
• a rapper with a terminal case of Caucasianness
• a [adjective] New York Times columnist
• [PROTAGONIST] with a Ph. D. in pain
• an anachronistically hygienic Knight of the Round Table
• the cast of Friends
• a [adjective] chess star
• a spy living as [PROTAGONIST]
• a [adjective] State Department flunky
• a [adjective] accountant that hates alligators
• a [adjective] scientist that should have known better
• a [adjective] extraterrestrial
• Secret Service agent Tom Sawyer
• Samuel L. Jackson
• a badass cop who may or may not be Samuel L. Jackson depending on his availability for the movie
• a [adjective] politician
• a [adjective] vagrant
• a [adjective] politician that is also a vagrant
• a [adjective] hostage negotiator
• a [adjective] mistress of [PROTAGONIST]
• a [adjective] private eye
• a crack-dealing serial killer with a heart of gold
• a grade-schooler with a penchant for mischief and grand larceny
• a [adjective] student
• a [adjective] inventor
• Keanu Reeves
• a [adjective] fighter jockey with nothing to lose
• a [adjective] dog-catcher
• a [adjective] Senator
• a [adjective] princess
• a [adjective] hitman
• [PROTAGONIST] and an American Idol with a dark secret
• a [adjective] Ebola patient
• a [adjective] hacker on the run for his life
• a superhero with a secret identity as [PROTAGONIST]

GOAL

• leave a trail of bodies that makes Omaha Beach look like Candyland.
• discover that the love interest is the only other racial minority in the book.
• destroy all the evidence.
• solve his own murder.
• achieve revenge by becoming a [adjective] FBI agent.
• channel the soul of Chuck Norris to kick ass and take names.
• win the trial of the century.
• pray that the moral of the story does not involve him sacrificing himself for the greater good.
• save a notable metropolitan area from an improbably large reptile.
• disprove the Heisenberg Principle, preferably before he explodes next Thursday.
• get promoted from Vice President to streetwise pimp.
• kill everybody involved, preferably starting with the author.
• celebrate the untimely demise of a loved one.
• give up either his dog or the Newbery Medal.
• convince a skeptical publisher that there is some market for protagonists besides beautiful white women and the supernatural (and hawt!) creatures that adore them.
• land a lucrative contracting before the publisher realizes he and the author are actually Chris Paolini.
• drop more bodies than an epileptic pallbearer.
• woo the love interest without getting busted for sexual harassment.
• learn a new dialect of pain.
• convince Santa Claus not to conquer the world.
• defeat Santa Claus by fomenting a violent elfin strike.
• master the elements.
• learn that asking dinosaurs for help can only end with everybody dying.
• frame his sidekick for murder.
• defeat an [adjective] alien invasion.
• conquer Switzerland.
• acquire a time machine in order to [GOAL]
• acquire some thoroughly forgettable plot item in a country that’s been in the news recently.
• get somebody to notice that Switzerland has been conquered.
• beg readers for forgiveness.
• steal an advance copy of Grand Theft Automaton.
• convince the Rotary Club that it was all an elaborate setup.
• land a spot on Death Row in order to [GOAL]
• successfully disqualify himself from jury duty.
• lead the Free Ponies and Ice Cream Party to a landslide victory.
• win a White Castle eating contest.
• steal the identity of a dead man to [GOAL]
• save the Internets from a gremlin invasion.
• steal a piece of jewelry guarded by hundreds of cameras and lasers but curiously few guards.
• realize that it was all a dream.
• recover from the world’s worst hangover in time to [GOAL]
• save the President from a superpowered assassin, The Jackalope.
• convince Mossad that he’s not a suicide bomber, just a Dell customer.
• secure his place in a hall of fame, so that he can [GOAL]
• learn how to drive without splattering his brains across the sidewalk.
• repeal the law of gravity.
• recover the pants he was wearing last night in order to [GOAL]
• convince the American people that Lady Gaga is actually Phase 3 of an alien invasion.
• do battle with the villain in an iconic building in the public domain.
• become [adjective] in order to [goal]
• return to his home-world.
• pretend to be a Canadian to [goal]
• car-jack a dump-truck filled with baking soda in order to make a weapon of mass destruction.
• land a role in the school play.
• beat somebody with his own pimp.
• upload a virus onto his own iPod in order to [GOAL]
• defeat an occult conspiracy by deciphering a code hidden in My Little Pony.
• save the world by punching a polar bear in the face.
• convince the love of his life that he is not actually [ANTAGONIST].
• convince a casting director that he was born to play [PROTAGONIST].
• [GOAL].. using only a pocket wrench!
• [GOAL].. in Japan!
• [GOAL].. in space!
• [GOAL].. in New York City!
• [GOAL].. in an alternate reality with no seat belts!
• [GOAL].. with his own death!
• [GOAL].. with a plan he set into motion as he died!
• [GOAL].. in a submarine powered by baby seals!
• [GOAL].. in less than two days!
• [GOAL].. with two tons of cocaine in his trunk!
• [GOAL].. without violating the terms of his parole!
• [GOAL].. in a Guatemalan prison!
• [GOAL].. in somebody else’s body!
• [GOAL].. with only half a clip of ammo!
• [GOAL].. without forgetting where he left the money!
• solve the mystery of why 99% of NYC murders are apparently committed by white businessmen.
• convince his new driver that brakes aren’t for wusses.

Step 2: If any of your selections mentioned an [adjective], use one of the following:

ADJECTIVE (if necessary)

• love-lorn
• master
• precocious
• roguish
• swanky
• arrogant
• washed-up
• brusque but lovable
• heterosexual
• enigmatic
• retired
• zesty
• unkillable
• accomplished
• legendary
• off-the-hook
• off-the-chain
• off-the-grid
• ancient
• tactless
• superpowered
• remorseful
• deranged
• contemptible but romantic
• secretive
• badass
• renegade
• disgruntled
• sexy
• reformed
• Amish
• Gypsy
• aristocratic
• vigorous
• wussy
• senselessly [adjective]
• luridly [adjective]
• improbably [adjective]
• obnoxiously [adjective]
• thoroughly [adjective]
• allegedly [adjective]
• inexplicably [adjective]
• spectacularly [adjective]
• insufficiently [adjective]
• implausibly [adjective]
• gloriously [adjective]
• unintentionally [adjective]
• startlingly [adjective]
• gratuitously [adjective]
• morbidly [adjective]
• magnificently [adjective]
• unusually [adjective]
• apparently [adjective]
• Canadian
• jittery
• bookish but rugged
• innocent
• cannibalistic
• bitchy
• sorcerous
• wry
• cheerful
• dynamic
• Russophobic
• Francophobic
• Switzophobic
• cultured
• athletic
• lazy
• rebellious
• bumbling
• old
• violent but otherwise amiable
• violent but charitable
• politically savvy
• streetwise
• fragile
• articulate
• soon-to-die
• truculent
• spry
• underachieving
• macabre
• rancorous
• shrill
• bankrupt
• graceful
• trusting
• naive
• bigoted
• terse
• glamorous
• grotesque
• cryptic
• silent
• ill-mannered
• dangerous
• burnt-out
• stylish
• erudite
• race-baiting
• villainous
• mature
• fanatical
• flaky
• cowardly
• generous
• dark
• egotistical
• felonious
• puppy-kicking
• desperate
• vengeful
• Matrix-obsessed
• clingy
• stealthy
• mystical
• wayward
• shell-shocked
• Eurocentric
• seedy
• petty
• wild-eyed
• supernatural
• magical
• occult
• cruel
• monocle-sporting
• screwed
• melancholy
• hypochrondriac
• homicidal
• blunt
• tragically [adjective]
• fast-living
• Southern
• shifty
• incompetent
• surly
• crude
• misanthropic
• philosophical
• confusing
• suicidal
• reckless
• occult
• anti-American
• fickle
• defiant
• pyromaniac
• greedy
• thuggish
• wandering
• drug-addicted
• human-like
• long-forgotten
• repulsive
• debaucherous
• high-rolling
• jolly
• wannabe
• prospective
• persuasive
• cunning
• inept

Step 3: If you have any remaining bracketed phrases to resolve, do so now. For example, if your villain was “a traitorous [PROTAGONIST],” randomly pick a protagonist.

Step 4: Use your words to make a sentence. “After getting [INCITED] by [ANTAGONIST], [PROTAGONIST] must [GOAL].”

Here are a few samples.

• After getting drafted by New Guinea, a reformed mailman must leave a trail of bodies that makes the beaches of Normandy look like Candyland.
• After getting cheated on by Jerry Bruckheimer, a renegade chess star must save the President from a superpowered assassin, the Jackalope.
• After getting impaled on a national landmark by a traitorous inventor, a curiously human-like politician must convince the American people that Lady Gaga is actually Phase 3 of an alien invasion.

*An accountant and an alligator saving the world from a deranged cosmeticist… with a Heisman Trophy!  While playing Clue!  IN SPACE!