Archetypes: Stop Screwing Them Up, Strategists
Archetypes aren’t a personality quiz you slap on a brand to make it feel human. They’re not Myers-Briggs for your logo, and they’re definitely not a shortcut to dressing up your client’s latest campaign in a cape and calling it a “Hero.” Yet, time and again, I see strategists — smart people, mind you — trip over themselves with archetypes, turning a profound psychological framework into a shallow sandbox of clichés. So, let’s unfurl this mess, dig into where it goes wrong, and figure out how to use archetypes the way Jung intended: as a lens into the messy, beautiful chaos of human need.
The “Personality Trait” Trap
First off, too many strategists treat archetypes like a cheat code for assigning personality traits. “Oh, we’re a Caregiver brand — let’s be warm, nurturing, and bake cookies in every ad.” Or, “We’re a Rebel, so let’s swear a lot and wear leather.” Stop it. Archetypes aren’t a checklist of adjectives you pin on a brand like a tail on a donkey. They’re not about what a brand acts like on the surface; they’re about why it exists in the psyche of its audience.
Take the Caregiver archetype. It’s not about being a soft-spoken saint who hugs everyone. It’s about fulfilling a primal human need for protection and stability. That could look like a healthcare brand promising safety through cutting-edge tech — no cookies required. Or take the Hero — it’s not about flexing muscles and saving damsels; it’s about inspiring people to overcome their own struggles. Nike’s “Just Do It” isn’t heroic because it’s loud; it’s heroic because it taps into our hunger for triumph. When you reduce archetypes to personality traits, you’re not strategizing — you’re cosplaying.
The Superficial Stereotype Snafu
Then there’s the other sin: leaning into superficial stereotypes based on the names. You hear “Hero,” and suddenly it’s all chiseled jaws and epic soundtracks. “Caregiver” becomes a pastel-colored mom with a soothing voice. “Explorer” has to wear hiking boots and smell like pine. This is lazy, and worse, it’s wrong. Archetypes aren’t visual tropes or stock characters from a Hollywood casting call — they’re universal patterns wired into our brains.
The psychology here is key. Carl Jung didn’t dream up archetypes as a branding gimmick; he saw them as the building blocks of the collective unconscious — shared stories and instincts that bubble up across cultures and time. The Hero isn’t about looking like Captain America; it’s about the journey of growth we all crave. The Explorer isn’t a rugged dude with a compass; it’s the itch for freedom and discovery that hits whether you’re in a forest or a spreadsheet. When strategists lock archetypes into a “specific look,” they miss the deeper current: these are emotional blueprints, not Pinterest mood boards.
The Real Deal: Patron Needstates
So, if archetypes aren’t costumes or personality quizzes, what are they? They’re a way to decode what your audience needs — not just what they say they want, but what keeps them up at night, what drives them to swipe, click, or buy. This is where the psychology gets juicy. Humans don’t shop with logic alone; we’re wired for stories, for meaning, for connection. Archetypes help brands align with those unspoken needstates, the ones lurking beneath the surface.
Say your patrons are restless — they’re stuck in cubicles, scrolling X, dreaming of escape. That’s an Explorer needstate. A brand like Jeep doesn’t just sell cars; it sells the promise of breaking free. Or maybe your audience feels overwhelmed, craving order in a chaotic world — that’s where a Ruler archetype steps in, offering control and prestige (think Rolex). The Caregiver meets a need for trust and comfort, whether it’s a bank securing your future or a soup brand warming your soul. The point is, archetypes aren’t about the brand’s ego — they’re about the patron’s psyche.
How to Get It Right
Here’s the playbook: stop starting with the archetype. Start with the people. Dig into their fears, their dreams, their contradictions — then find the archetype that fits. Don’t force a Jester on a crowd that’s crying out for a Sage. And for the love of Jung, don’t let the name dictate the execution. A Caregiver doesn’t have to whisper sweet nothings — it can be fierce, like a bodyguard shielding you from harm. A Hero doesn’t need a spotlight; it can quietly push you to be better.
The nuance is in the depth. Archetypes work when they resonate, not when they decorate. They’re tools to uncover what your brand stands for in the patron’s story — not a mask to hide behind. So, strategists, quit playing dress-up. Peel back the layers, get uncomfortable, and use archetypes to build something real. Your patrons — and your sanity — will thank you.
That’s the wrap, folks — less nonsense, more insight into what drives people, I hope. For more, hit up my branding resources at https://shop.bullhearted.co — tons to dig into there. And if you’re serious about this stuff, check out my books: Mass Behaving, where I break down how to leverage archetypes to shift behaviors and get crowds moving, and The Bullhearted Brand, your no-BS playbook for building restaurant brands that don’t just survive but thrive. Keep charging ahead!
