I recently took advantage of some
free time to rework my fantasy setting so that nearly every aspect is
explainable through interlocking natural (in my world) laws. Should I have
bothered? Should you bother? Not if you don’t care, and most people don’t. I
contend, however, that you will design a far more interesting world if you give
some thought to the ‘whys’ and ‘hows’ of various fantasy aspects of your
fiction. In doing so, you may find that you sidestep common clichés not because
you are obviously trying to avoid them, but because those tropes are
satisfyingly replaced by the logic of your setting.
A very simple example of this
includes fallout from questioning why, for example, your wizard character
doesn't wear armour. If it is simply because this runs contrary to the trope,
you might consider breaking from convention, but it would seem forced (and
leave the reader feeling irked) to dress a mage in plate mail simply to defy
the standard. If however, your reader learns that large amounts of
nearby magnetic metals interfere with spell casting, then you can dress your
wizard in armour made from dragon scales. Now you have a character that is not
so typical, and your reader will not feel like they are reading a post-modern
commentary on the genre.
Perhaps the more important
outcome of this kind of logic exercise is that it gives you a launching point
to create unique and flavourful story points. Carrying the previous example
further: if magnetic metals interfere with spell casting, then couldn't a
wizard be deemed powerless in a room that was lined with loadstone? Maybe all
magical devices would be useless? And, perhaps there is a downside to wearing
dragon scales. Do they hold a power of their own? Do they act as a beacon in
the spirit realm, drawing ghosts, demons, or other dragons? You get the idea. Following
the logical extensions of your unique rules opens the way to ideas that will
make your story, likewise, unique.
If logical extensions are done
well, the reader will appreciate being shown something new. Maybe I am
misidentifying the emotion, but it is certainly one of the reasons that I am
impressed by serious Sci-fi. Presenting a ‘what if?’ question followed by an
answer that is more clever than anything that I could have derived on my own
makes me not only admire the author, but allows me to feel safe in the
investment that I am making in the story, knowing that I am not going to be let
down by some ridiculous, ill-thought plot point that causes me to lose respect
for the author and the story. The most egregious example of this kind of
betrayal was the script of the TV series, Lost.
The story started with a brilliant premise followed by increasingly fantastic
subplots that hooked a lot of people. Even many die-hard fans, however, were
feeling betrayed by the end when they realised that “lost” simply described the
writing team. And midi-chlorians to explain The Force? Even Time magazine openly shat on that one [1] .
In the Sci-fi genre, stories that
pay close attention to the ramifications of new technologies are placed in the
sub-genre, “Hard Sci-fi”. I would like to see more well-done examples of magical
systems within “Hard Fantasy” (by which I am referring to the treatment of
magic as an interlocking natural science, not to a George Martinesque style of
grittiness and adult theme), but they are rare enough that I am having trouble.
Brandon Sanderson presents some excellent insights to this topic in his article,
Sanderson’s First
Law [i],
and I am guessing[ii]
that his magical systems are among the most coherent. There are several other authors
who show concern for hard fantasy, but even one of the best, R. Scott Bakker,
would have trouble explaining the full physics behind his magical systems
(though the use of different mathematics as an analogy is a good start). Jane
Lindskold blogs about the importance of magical systems [2] , though I have not read enough of her
material to know how well it plays out.
The reason for this scarcity is
not due to a lack of good writers. Instead, I suppose that it is for the same
reason that nobody (to my knowledge) has done a full wiring diagram of the
Death Star. Nobody really cares that much.
Fantasy, as the genre name implies, is about losing oneself in an unreal world. Sanderson offers keen
insight on this. [3] While he is an
advocate of “hard magic” in which the reader understands the rules of the magic
system, he acknowledges that “soft magic” is satisfying when the reader and
protagonist(s) are meant to see magic as an outside force of wonder and not as
an integral part of the plot (as far as the protagonist can affect the plot). But
I still hold my position (and Sanderson’s): if more writers took a “hard” look
at their fantasy, the entire genre could become much richer.
Works Cited
[1]
|
E. Narcisse, "20,000 Per Cell: Why Midi-Chlorians
Suck," 10 August 2010. [Online]. Available:
http://techland.time.com/2010/08/10/20000-per-cell-why-midi-chlorians-suck/.
[Accessed 21 March 2014].
|
[2]
|
J. Lindskold, "TOR.COM Science fiction. Fantasy. The
universe.," Tor.com, 06 January 2009. [Online]. Available:
http://www.tor.com/blogs/2008/10/systemunmagical#more. [Accessed 1 June
2014].
|
[3]
|
B. Sanderson, "Brandon Sanderson," 20 February
2007. [Online]. Available:
http://brandonsanderson.com/sandersons-first-law/. [Accessed 13 October
2014].
|
[i] “Sanderson’s First Law of Magics: An author’s ability to solve conflict with magic is DIRECTLY PROPORTIONAL to how well the reader understands said magic.” [3]
[ii] I am embarrassed to say that I have not yet read any, but I hope to do so soon (and delete this endnote).
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