Your Antagonist Should Be Right
How to build villains who believe they’re the hero (and why that makes them terrifying)
It’s Wednesday. The Writer’s Room is open.
In the last writer’s room session, we took a deep dive into character work. Today, I want to talk about villains.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking a lot about antagonists lately. Probably because while I’m working on finishing up this action-comedy script, I’ve been processing a villain I need for a project.
And then there’s the modern villains who’ve taken that legacy and done something even more disturbing with it.
Thanos. Killmonger. Villanelle. Amy Dunne. Cersei Lannister. Walter White—who started as the protagonist and became the villain we couldn’t look away from.
What’s interesting is that these modern antagonists aren’t just scary or powerful. They’re COMPELLING in a way that makes us deeply uncomfortable.
Because we understand them.
Not because we agree with genocide or murder or manipulation. But because their logic is coherent. Their worldview makes sense. Their justifications are... defensible.
And that’s what keeps us up at night. Not that they’re monsters. That they’re NOT monsters. That they’re people with philosophies, beliefs, and internal logic that led them to horrific choices.
Thanos genuinely believes he’s saving the universe. Killmonger genuinely believes he’s liberating the oppressed. Amy Dunne genuinely believes she’s holding her husband accountable.
They’re not twirling mustaches. They’re defending their worldview. And sometimes? Their worldview has a point. Even when their solution is monstrous.
That’s the evolution. Classic villains were SCARY. Modern villains are JUSTIFIED.
And justified villains are infinitely more terrifying.
Because you can’t dismiss them. You can’t write them off as just “evil.” You have to engage with their ideas. Confront their logic. Defend your protagonist’s worldview against theirs.
And sometimes? You’re not sure your protagonist’s worldview is actually better. Just... less destructive.
Real villains—the ones we can’t stop thinking about, the ones that terrify us not because they’re monsters but because we understand them—they don’t think they’re wrong.
They think they’re RIGHT.
And that changes everything.
Today, I’m breaking down the complete framework for building antagonists who believe they’re the hero of their own story. Because here’s what I’ve learned in 25 years of screenwriting and working in TV writers’ rooms:
The best antagonists aren’t evil. They’re JUSTIFIED. At least in their own minds.
And once you understand how to build that justification—how to make your villain’s worldview coherent and defensible—you create conflict that’s not just plot-driven, but philosophically compelling.
By the end of this post, you’ll have:
The framework for building antagonists who believe they’re right
Examples from film and TV showing how this works
The diagnostic tools to test if your villain is complex enough
The practical application method for your current project
The difference between sympathetic villains and justified villains
Why explore villains this week? Because if you work through this framework for your script or novel, you’ll end up with a villain that has as much skin in the game as your protagonist. You’ll have a human, not a villain. One that your audience connects with on a level that makes us feel guilty we’re rooting for them to win in the end.
Ready to create antagonists readers can’t forget?
Let’s go.
Why Most Villains Feel Flat
Think about the villains you actually remember.
Not the ones who were just obstacles. Not the ones who existed to give the hero someone to fight. The ones you couldn’t stop thinking about. The ones who made you uncomfortable because part of you understood where they were coming from.
Thanos. Killmonger. The Joker. Anton Chigurh. Nurse Ratched. Amy Dunne. Cersei Lannister. Magneto.
What makes them unforgettable?
It’s not that they’re powerful. Plenty of villains are powerful.
It’s not that they’re cruel. Plenty of villains are cruel.
It’s not even that they have tragic backstories. Plenty of villains have trauma.
So what is it?
They believe they’re doing the right thing.
Not in a delusional way. Not in a “muahahaha I’m so evil” way. Although those villains can be fun in the right story.
In a way that makes SENSE. That has internal logic. That forces you to confront uncomfortable truths about how the world actually works.
Thanos isn’t killing half the universe because he’s evil. He’s doing it because he genuinely believes it’s the only way to save everyone else from resource scarcity and suffering.
Killmonger isn’t trying to destroy Wakanda. He’s trying to use Wakanda’s power to liberate oppressed people around the world—something the “heroes” refused to do.
The Joker isn’t chaos for chaos’s sake. He’s trying to prove that everyone is one bad day away from becoming like him—that civilization is a lie we tell ourselves. And isn’t that something, especially now when we look at the world, that we believe could be at the very least, plausible?
They have a WORLDVIEW. And that worldview justifies every choice they make.
Most antagonists don’t have this. They’re obstacles. Plot devices. People who do bad things because the story needs someone to fight. Hell, I’m guilty of this as well. I struggle (and realize this a lot lately with my own writing) with not taking my villains or writing far enough. Holding back. Not going where I need to go, and that’s especially true of villains.
And that’s why they feel flat.
Because we don’t believe them. We don’t understand why they’re doing what they’re doing. And if we don’t understand, we don’t care.
So, how can we change our villain game?
Three Elements of Justified Antagonists
If you take time to break down villains across TV and movies (and novels), and study the ones that work, you’ll see a pattern. There are three elements that work in sync with each other at all times.
Three elements at play in every compelling villain:
A worldview that makes sense
A goal that serves that worldview
Methods that feel justified (to them) by the goal
Let’s break down each one.
Element One: A Worldview That Makes Sense
Your antagonist’s worldview is their fundamental belief about how the world works.
Not what they want. Not what they’re afraid of. What they BELIEVE is TRUE about reality.
And here’s the key: That belief needs to be defensible.
Not “correct.” Not “moral.” Defensible. Someone should be able to argue for that worldview and have it sound reasonable. Even if you disagree with it. Even if it leads to horrific actions.
Want some examples?
Thanos (Avengers: Infinity War)
Worldview: “Resources are finite. The population is exponential. Without intervention, everyone suffers and dies. A quick, random, painless reduction in population saves the other half from starvation, war, and extinction.”
Is that defensible? Yes. It’s cold utilitarian logic. It’s wrong in a thousand ways, but the LOGIC is coherent. You can see how someone could believe it.
Killmonger (Black Panther)
Worldview: “Wakanda has the power to liberate oppressed people around the world, but chooses to hide. That makes them complicit in suffering. Power without action is cowardice. If you have the ability to help and don’t, you’re responsible for what happens.”
Is that defensible? Absolutely. It’s a radical position, but it’s rooted in real historical anger and valid criticism. You understand why he believes it.
Anton Chigurh (No Country for Old Men)
Worldview: “Fate governs everything. Free will is an illusion. The coin flip isn’t random—it’s the universe deciding. I’m not a murderer. I’m an instrument of what was already determined.”
Is that defensible? In a philosophical sense, yes. It’s determinism taken to its logical extreme. Horrifying, but internally consistent.
Amy Dunne (Gone Girl)
Worldview: “Marriage is a performance. Everyone pretends to be someone they’re not to get love. The only difference is I’m honest about the performance—and better at it. If you’re going to lie to get what you want, at least be good at it.”
Is that defensible? Disturbingly, yes. It’s cynical, but it taps into real anxieties about authenticity in relationships.
See the pattern?
These aren’t just “bad people doing bad things.” They’re people with coherent philosophies about how the world works. And those philosophies JUSTIFY their actions.
That’s what makes them terrifying. Not that they’re monsters. That they make SENSE.
Element Two: A Goal That Serves That Worldview
Once you have the worldview, the goal becomes obvious.
Your antagonist’s goal should be the logical outcome of what they believe.
If they believe X about how the world works, what would someone with that belief naturally try to DO?
Let’s go back and add this element to our previous examples
Thanos
Worldview: Resources are finite, population is exponential, and intervention is necessary.
His goal: Reduce the population by half to save the other half from suffering.
That goal flows directly from the worldview. If you believe what he believes, you’d probably do what he’s doing.
Killmonger
Worldview: Wakanda is complicit in oppression by refusing to use its power to help.
His goal: Take control of Wakanda and use their technology to arm oppressed people worldwide.
Again, the goal is the natural extension of the worldview.
Anton Chigurh
Worldview: Fate controls everything. I’m an instrument of predetermined outcomes.
His goal: Follow the contract. Kill the targets. Let the coin flip decide the rest.
The goal serves the philosophy.
Amy Dunne
Worldview: Marriage is a performance. Be better at performing than everyone else.
Her goal: Create the perfect victim narrative and destroy her husband for failing to play his role.
Everything she does makes sense if you accept her worldview.
So, how can you bring these two elements together effectively? By asking yourself one critical question about your antagonist:
Can you explain your antagonist’s goal as a logical extension of what they believe about the world?
If you can’t, your antagonist is probably just a plot device with arbitrary motivations.
Element Three: Methods That Feel Justified (To Them) By The Goal
Okay. So your antagonist has a defensible worldview and a goal that serves it.
Now, it’s time to add in the final piece… Their METHODS need to feel justified by the goal. Not to YOU. To THEM.
Your antagonist doesn’t wake up thinking, “I’m going to do something evil today.”
They wake up thinking, “I’m going to do what needs to be done. What no one else has the courage to do.”
Let’s use the same examples we’ve been adding to, and bring in this final element to each:
Thanos: Killing half the universe is horrific. But if you believe the alternative is EVERYONE dying slowly through starvation and war, then the snap becomes... merciful? Quick? Necessary?
He’s not a sadist. He’s not enjoying this. He sees himself as making the hard choice no one else will make. And that’s what makes him terrifying.
Killmonger: Arming revolutionaries around the world will cause violence and death. But if you believe Wakanda’s neutrality is itself a form of violence—a choice to let oppression continue—then action becomes the moral choice.
He’s not bloodthirsty. He’s seeking justice. And to him, that justifies the methods.
Anton Chigurh: Murder is wrong. But if you believe you’re not making the choice—fate is—then you’re not a murderer. You’re just following what was already written. The coin flip decides. Not you.
He’s not evil in his own mind. He’s obedient to something larger than himself.
Amy Dunne: Framing your husband for murder and destroying his life is monstrous. But if you believe he broke the contract first—by not being who he promised to be—then punishment becomes appropriate. You’re not the villain. You’re holding him accountable.
She’s not crazy. She’s right. At least in her own worldview.
See how this works?
The methods aren’t arbitrary cruelty. They’re the natural extension of the worldview → goal → action chain.
And that’s what makes them feel REAL instead of written.
When all three elements work together—worldview, goal, and methods—you create an antagonist whose every choice flows from internal logic. They’re not doing things because the plot requires it. They’re doing things because THIS SPECIFIC PERSON with THIS SPECIFIC WORLDVIEW would naturally do them.
That’s the difference between a villain who feels written and one who feels inevitable.
The Difference Between Sympathetic and Justified
A lot of writers get confused at this point.
They think “justified antagonist” means “sympathetic antagonist.”
It doesn’t.
Understanding this distinction is critical. Because if you conflate the two, you’ll either make your antagonist too likable (and readers will root for them instead of your protagonist) or you’ll pull back on their justification, thinking you need to make them more hateable.
Neither works.
Sympathetic means we feel bad for them. We understand their pain. We wish things had gone differently for them.
Justified means we understand their logic. We see how their worldview leads to their actions. We can’t dismiss them as simply “evil.”
You can have one without the other. And which combination you choose changes everything about how your antagonist functions in your story.
Sympathetic But Not Justified
Example: A villain who’s killing people because they were abused as a child.
We feel bad for them (sympathetic). But the logic doesn’t hold (not justified). Trauma doesn’t create coherent justification for murder.
This is the “tragic backstory” villain. We understand their pain, but their actions don’t flow from a defensible worldview. They’re just broken.
These villains can work, but they’re not as compelling as justified ones. Because we pity them more than we fear them.
Justified But Not Sympathetic
Example: Anton Chigurh.
We don’t feel bad for him. We don’t wish he’d had a better childhood. We don’t want him to be okay.
But we understand his logic. His worldview is coherent. His actions flow from his beliefs. We can’t dismiss him as just “crazy.”
That’s what makes him terrifying. Not that we sympathize. That we UNDERSTAND. And it doesn’t hurt that they got the incomparable Javier Bardem. Come on, how terrifying is he in every scene just by being him?!
Both Sympathetic And Justified
Example: Killmonger, Magneto, Thanos (depending on your reading).
We understand their pain (sympathetic). AND we understand their logic (justified).
These are often the most compelling antagonists because they force us to confront uncomfortable truths. We don’t want to agree with them, but we can’t easily dismiss them.
Neither Sympathetic Nor Justified
Example: Generic evil overlord who wants power because... reasons?
We don’t feel bad for them. We don’t understand their logic. They’re just obstacles.
These are forgettable villains. Plot devices. The kind you forget five minutes after the credits roll.
So which should you aim for?
For maximum impact: Justified, regardless of whether they’re sympathetic.
Justified villains force philosophical conflict. They make your protagonist question their own worldview. They create tension that’s about more than just “stop the bad guy.”
Sympathetic is optional. Justified is essential.
Because when your antagonist has a defensible worldview—when you understand WHY they believe what they believe and how that leads to what they do—you create conflict that resonates beyond the final confrontation. The reader or viewer keeps thinking about it afterward. Keeps arguing with the antagonist’s logic in their head. Keeps wondering if maybe, in some twisted way, they had a point.
That’s what separates stories we finish from stories we can’t stop thinking about.
So the question becomes: how do you actually build that kind of antagonist?
