The idea of having different characters is really just to get

Hear, O listeners, the wisdom of MF Doom, the masked poet of rhyme and shadow, who once declared: “The idea of having different characters is really just to get the storyline across, you know? Coming from one particular character makes, to me, the story boring. I get that mainly from novels and that style of writing or movies where there’s multiple characters who carry the storyline.” In these words he unveils not only his craft, but the eternal law of storytelling: that truth is too vast to be told from one voice alone, and that the symphony of many voices creates depth beyond the reach of a single song.

The meaning is thus: Doom reveals that his many characters—villains, madmen, alter-egos, and masks—were not mere costumes, but tools to reveal a greater storyline. Just as a novel or film shifts between perspectives to weave a fuller tapestry, so too did he use personas to show complexity, contradiction, and multiplicity of truth. One voice alone risks monotony; but many voices, each carrying a shard of the narrative, reflect the richness of life itself. His art became not merely rap, but theatre of the mind, peopled by archetypes who spoke different facets of his vision.

The ancients themselves knew this principle. In the Greek chorus, multiple voices rose together, each adding weight and resonance to the tale. The chorus did not belong to one person, but to the collective, reflecting the conscience of the people and deepening the tragedy upon the stage. Similarly, in the Mahabharata, countless characters carry the burden of story, their many struggles weaving one great cosmic tale. Doom’s teaching is the same: multiplicity births richness, and a story told by many masks speaks more truthfully than one spoken by a single tongue.

History, too, shows this truth in the hand of Shakespeare, whose dramas never rest upon a single soul. Hamlet may be the heart, but without Claudius, Gertrude, Polonius, Ophelia, and Horatio, his tale would collapse into monotony. Each character sharpens the other, each voice expands the meaning. Shakespeare’s greatness, like Doom’s, was in understanding that one figure cannot hold all truth; but in the interplay of many, truth becomes vast, nuanced, and unforgettable.

At the heart of Doom’s reflection lies a greater wisdom about identity itself. For do not all men and women carry within them multiple characters? The warrior, the dreamer, the skeptic, the child—all dwell within the same soul, rising at different hours of the day. By embracing multiple personas, Doom revealed a truth often hidden: that the self is not singular, but manifold. In this way, his art mirrors life: we are all storytellers wearing masks, revealing parts of our truth through many voices.

The lesson, then, is clear: embrace multiplicity in your storytelling, and in your life. Do not fear to show different sides of yourself, for each reveals a fragment of the whole. When telling a tale, let many voices speak, for the world is too vast for only one perspective. And when you live, remember that the self is not fixed but flowing—sometimes wise, sometimes foolish, sometimes villain, sometimes hero. To honor this multiplicity is to live more fully, and to tell stories that breathe with life.

What, then, should you do? In your craft, whether you write, speak, or create, allow different characters to carry your vision. Experiment with perspective, with voice, with the richness of contradiction. In your relationships, seek the many sides of others, and do not reduce them to one role alone. And in your inner life, accept your own complexity, wearing the masks of your being with honesty rather than fear. For in multiplicity there is truth, and in truth, there is freedom.

Thus let the words of MF Doom endure: “Coming from one particular character makes the story boring.” For this is not merely about rap, nor novels, nor films, but about the human condition itself. Life is a chorus, not a monologue. To honor its depth, we must let many voices speak—within us, around us, and through the stories we leave behind. In this way, the tale of our existence becomes not flat, but eternal.