Randy Ellefson's Blog, page 2

Files on Websites

Websites offer the mobility we need to work from anywhere, but they carry a risk that our creative work is on someone’s servers and can be compromised. This may expose us to hacking. Our devices, including a laptop (even at home), also face this risk, but it’s arguably less likely that we’ll be hacked than Google or Microsoft. Several niche sites dedicated to world builders also exist, and they are also less likely to be hacked because the information in them isn’t personal enough and there aren’t enough users to warrant the effort. However, they are probably much easier to hack. Creative people often worry about their ideas being stolen, and storing and transmitting them over the internet does expose us to more risk. The reality is that “no one” cares about stealing our ideas unless we’re famous, but if it matters to you, consider it.

We should read terms of service carefully. Most of us are familiar with the idea that Facebook, for example, can sell our data to advertisers. Any website we use should explicitly state that we own our ideas, not them. I once received a job offer that stated that all work I did once hired belonged to the company, including anything I invented after hours, after I quit, and for the rest of my life. I objected and they admitted it was a mistake and changed the language to be more reasonable. It likely wouldn’t have held up in court due to obscene overreach, but why take the chance?

Most sites cost money to operate, which means a potential membership fee for users, whether monthly or annually. This cost may not be necessary; what we’re gaining is optional and can usually be achieved via other means. But even apps installed on a device are moving more to a subscription model, versus the old days of installing something and being able to use it indefinitely without paying again. Providers like Microsoft have seen the wisdom of making us pay all the time.

With websites, backing up our data may seem like a concern we don’t have, as it’s not stored locally on our device. But we should periodically download it, if possible; and if it’s not possible, this is a risk. The provider is probably doing backups, but the likelihood of this depends on how professional they are. A company like Google or Microsoft almost certainly is, partly because they have businesses depending on them. But smaller sites run by a few programmers may not. Such sites might be hosted by a genuine hosting company (that does backups) or it might be on a server in the guy’s basement. Some sites have already achieved a reputation for crashes that destroy data into being irretrievable. Research any such tool to see what other users are saying.

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File Storage

We need somewhere to store our ideas. An ideal scenario is to have access wherever we are, whether home, vacation, or work (we never know when an idea will strike). Or the toilet. Some smart phones are even waterproof so that we can work in the pool, a hot tub, or underwater! Depending on location, we have different devices we’re likely to have with us, such as a phone, tablet, or laptop. And there’s the old-fashioned pen and paper. There’s no solution that will work for everyone so here we’re just going to look at some options; this is not intended to be comprehensive but guidance on what to consider.

Only some of us make maps, and the programs that allow this usually require installation and a larger screen than a phone provides. Game designers may want to draw creatures that are best done in full-fledged apps as well. World builders are mostly concerned with text, including possibly a few spreadsheets for quick access to information about many places at once; this is what we’re examining here. With all tools, we should consider that we may use it for months to years before changing our mind; will we be able to easily move to another working methodology?

Hard Drives

We can store our files on a computer hard drive. This will mean always bringing that device with us if we want to work, or taking a copy of files to another computer, which will need any app we use installed. Long ago, I used to bring mine on a writeable CD, then DVD, and finally a thumb drive as technologies changed; some of these carried a significant risk of being lost, which inspired attempts to encrypt them (another hassle). Today I bring nothing because I use Office 365, which we’ll discuss later in this chapter.

ince hard drives can fail, it’s wise to back up our contents to another device. We once needed a portable drive attached directly to our computer, but there are network accessible ones, some very robust. We can get one with a mirrored drive in a RAID configuration, which means it has two drives and content copied to one is automatically copied to the other. If one fails, our backup is still safe. One scenario this doesn’t guard against is our home burning to the ground, destroying both backup drives and our laptop, for example. Due to this, it’s wise to store files in two locations, such as a relative’s house (if they can be trusted not to snoop, should we care) or a safety deposit box.

Hard drives offer few advantages other than a file system that can be backed up with a dragged folder. As we’ll see, this can be done with other options. We can also store all types of files, not just world building ones.

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Choose a World Building Approach

The random approach means creating individual items and worrying about how they relate to each other later. We can create a species here, a god there, a city elsewhere, doing each on the spur of the moment. There’s no quota of species, cities, or gods to create, no obligations. We create whatever seems like a good idea at the time. Only later do we decide that cities are part of a nation, or a god is part of an interconnected pantheon. Or that two species live near each other and are enemies or friends, and why. We might decide a species originates from a given forest, but on later reflection, we realize they’d spread throughout the area and add them to those other regions, both in forests and settlements near. Our concept of them evolves continuously whenever we think of something.

This has the advantage of allowing us to create in an improvised style that will lend itself to rapid creation and exploration without worrying about restrictions we’ve imposed on ourselves. We can see if we have what it takes for more serious world building. We’re focused on a single idea and making it work for its own sake. If there are elements that don’t make sense yet, we can fix them later and just try to avoid boxing ourselves into a corner.

The disadvantage is a lack of global cohesion. Maybe we have too many gods, not enough, or they don’t make sense as a group. If we haven’t worked out how species get along and then use them in scenes together, do they interact in understandable ways?

Which to Do?

If none of these approaches sounds ideal, that’s because mixing them is arguably best. To do this, we need a framework, or the “top down” view on the world, establishing some basics about the physical environment, more so than individual gods, species, or other life forms. Then we can fill it in. What follows is a rough order if we’re starting with a new setting; authors who already have a setting can see where they might need to backtrack to fill in some of this before forging ahead. These suggestions are just that, so if you disagree, at least it will get you thinking about how you would do this.

Start with a Continent

It might be called “world building,” but many stories take place on a single continent, which is what we start with. Decide which hemisphere it’s in so we know whether cold is north or south. This also helps determine whether another continent is north or south of the one we’ve created; if the world is Earth-like in size, there’s probably only one in each hemisphere at that latitude. As discussed in Creating Places, this allows us to determine the prevailing winds. This matters because the combination of continent and mountain range placement will determine where vegetation is (and is not). With this done, we can decide where we’d like mountains, which will tell us many of our other land features, including deserts, grasslands, and forests. At a minimum, sketch this on a piece of paper, possibly with arrows pointing off the page to indicate other land masses.

This exercise gives us is an overview of a continent with at least a high-level view of where everything lies. If we’re not planning to use major areas of it, that’s fine. At least we know where they are and have a rough idea of climate there. If we’d like, we can name various regions and land features. For those who want to top-down start, we have a structure we can fill in as we need.

Create Settlements

Whether we have a map or not, we can start indicating where cities and towns lie. They’re typically along major rivers or fresh water sources like a lake, and often where those empty into the sea. For choosing kingdom borders, we can use natural land features like mountains and rivers, even forests, which can become contested areas for resources. Before we go much further, we’re going to need names, because it’s time to start creating files about our world. This means settlement ones, at the least, and possibly sovereign power files and another about land features on this continent.

Free Rein

Now that we have our framework, we can create other elements in whatever order we desire. We can fill out basic information for each location in the appropriate file. It’s also recommended to create a spreadsheet that works as an overview of all locations; this allows us to determine the age of everywhere, colors, symbols, major products, and population levels. We sense where people congregate, where the oldest and newest places are, and in what direction life spread. This spreadsheet is our cheat sheet to our world.

With this done, we’ll be able to work on any other element at our leisure and tie it into our setting according to the “Where to Start” suggestions that conclude nearly  every chapter of The Art of World Building books. In no particular order, this can mean fleshing out land features, settlements, powers, species and races, plants and animals, gods, magic systems, armed forces, organizations, and ultimately, the cultures. The latter benefits from determining the cultural scope from the top down: power, region, settlement, and social group. Regardless of your decision, be sure to crisscross back and forth between files and periodically update earlier decisions.

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The Bottom Up Approach

The bottom up approach means starting at a more localized level, such as the settlement where a story takes place. We may decide some land features are at various distances from here and any impact this causes. Later, we decide what sovereign power type exists, even if this decision changes previous work on the settlements and geography. We might decide that an adjacent sovereign power is needed and invent it, tailoring it to our current needs. We may not have decided which hemisphere this place is or the continent, which means we may not have considered climate much. This matters more with things that don’t move (places) because species and animals can be relocated and found in multiple places.

An advantage of the bottom-up way is that it forces us to focus on our immediate setting needs, like a city we’ll use. We may skimp on things we won’t need yet, saving time. Story can also inspire our inventions. For many of us, it’s also easy to envision a city that has specific features or a mood, and we may be unsure how outside factors could contribute, though hopefully this series has changed that.

One problem with this approach, for places, is that the overall picture indelibly impacts the local one. We might decide there are mountains and lush vegetation in a certain direction, then choose a hemisphere only to find out that those mountains would prevent that vegetation. Similar factors could render our work less sensible. Another disadvantage is lack of scope. When we only invent what we need and a little more, our world can seem too tightly focused and like there isn’t a broader world out there. This may not matter in a short story or one where characters don’t travel, beyond mentioning other places or peoples and things influenced by them, but for more epic uses, we need to at least hint at a broader world.

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The Top Down Approach

There are multiple approach to world building, such as a top-down and bottom-up. All are valid and have their merits and undesirable consequences, which can be mitigated.

Top Down

The top down approach can be described as starting with the big picture and working our way down to smaller elements. For example, when it comes to physically designing the world, we decide how many continents it has and where they are in relation to each other. Next we focus on a single continent, deciding what nations exist and what forest, mountains, and other features exist and where, possibly drawing a map. We would repeat this on other continents. From there, we would choose a nation and decide on where its major cities and towns are and work out their relationships before moving on to other nations.

Regarding life, we would start with creating gods, the reason being that these deities presumably have attributes that affect the species, plants, and animals they created. All of those should be influenced by the land features we’ve already created. And they should have relationships with each other. The species might have in turn caused supernatural disasters that left residue behind and now everyone avoids that place.

The advantage to such an approach is cohesion. The impression of randomly created pieces slapped together is less likely, as are world building holes (like plot holes). The latter would include something like a river that has no mountain source, but we can’t add one because we’ve already decided that none of the nations near it have a mountain range and their cultures are somehow dependent on that, for example. And maybe we can’t get rid of the river, either.

The disadvantage is that world building can feel like a big homework assignment. We’re doing this in a specific order and may not have ideas when we need one to continue. Getting stuck can ruin momentum and enthusiasm. We can see a huge to-do list and feel overwhelmed. The process of creation is supposed to be fun; creating things in a freewheeling manner helps with that and also causes interesting ideas to develop.

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Tying Elements Together

Creating world building elements that stand isolated from others can make the setting seem poorly designed and lacking depth. There’s no quick solution for tying everything together. It pays to have a good memory of what’s been invented so far and tweak what we’re inventing currently based on this.

Periodically reviewing our world building files is an excellent practice. Put a reminder on a calendar, if you keep one to organize your projects or life. What we’ll do is just read through our files. That’s it! It might have been months or years since gestation (or repeated refinement) led to the contents of a file. We may have invented many items since and forgotten to intertwine them. Even without that, we may have new ideas or realizations to add. We’ve also had time away from the invention and our fresher eyes can improve what we’ve done. Expect and accept that this exercise might lead to additional world building.

Another approaching is what I think of as “looping.” Choose a land feature, such as a forest, and describe the terrain; details and examples on what to write are discussed in Creating Places (The Art of World Building #2). but we want to discuss how dense the underbrush is, the mood of it, how many roads run through it and their condition, and what plants and animals of interest might be here, in what quantity, and in which areas. If we’ve invented some lifeforms, we’re now merging them with this particular woodland. We can state that a given road is less traveled due to proximity to the territory of one such creature. Rare items might be here; state where they’re found and how arduous the journey is. Maybe a nefarious organization has a base within.

Now start the loop. If there are multiple settlements nearby, open the file for one. The inhabitants have a relationship with this place. Describe it. Do they fear it, use it for recreation, or hunt within? How far from the walls is it? They’re the one tending a road or letting it be overgrown. Do they see this terrain as protecting them from attack or as a vulnerability? Is there something nasty inside that they fear? What armed forces exist here that are present specifically to deal with such a threat? Are there raids into the woods or from things in the woods? Do knights attend those who venture into this forest? To decide this requires some imagination, and having worked out the military groups available. Are there useful plants there and major products that result? When we’re done updating the settlement file, we need to revisit the one for this forest, updating our description of it to include its relationship with this settlement. We’re looping from one file into another and back. If there’s another settlement near this forest, we repeat the same exercise. Do it with all nearby communities.

Then choose another. Or a mountain range, a lake, a desert, or other features until there’s little on a map that’s not interwoven. Use the options we discussed in Creating Places (The Art of World Building, #2) to ensure no two are alike. While doing this, we may think of additions to non-places and should update those files, too.

For example, if we’ve imagined new details on our evil organization, perhaps we add a note about their base in these woods and what it’s like, and how the nearby settlements impact life there. We might even say that, because a given animal is here, it’s been adopted as their symbol, or they specialize in taming or killing it, even cooking it a particular way. The latter can result in a rare treat that people like but are afraid to eat in public due to its association with the group. Now we have to open our files on food and drinks of the world and update that, possibly creating occasions when something is consumed and when it’s avoided, or how it’s made, its reputation, and whatever else. We might decide that there’s another version of it without the bad reputation, as invented by another species, and now we end up in that file jotting down a note about it but leaving the details in our food file.

The same approach is used to integrate species with each other and the world. Work on one and define it according to imagination and the guidance from Creating Life (The Art of World Building, #1), using the provided template for ideas. There’s a section on relationships with others. Fill out connections between, for example, your elves and dwarves while in the elven file, and then open the dwarf file and do the same there. To minimize rewrites, I will copy and paste the same text in both files, even though I generally avoid duplication in my notes. Review what’s been written about both while doing this because it can trigger ideas.

When we invent an organization or military group, for example, we should define its relations with each species and location (settlements, regions, land features, and sovereign powers) where it is found. We once again want to loop back into the species and location files and update our understanding of them.

The pattern here is periodic review and update. That’s the way we integrate elements in the setting. Don’t expect it to all be done at once. That’s not realistic. I’ve been updating my Llurien setting for over thirty years now, always improving and refining it. Sometimes it’s been a decade since I last read a file. I’m sometimes surprised by what’s in one, as I remember many grand scale inventions but often forget details of things I’m not currently using. My duration on this is extreme, but yours needn’t be. We can world build many things a few minutes at a time as long as we stay organized.

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Follow Your Rules

Modern audiences are especially astute and often notice inconsistency. We should strive to avoid this in world building by following any rules that we’ve stated for our setting. There are several tricks that can assist with this by providing flexibility.

One is hedging, or using less strict language. Instead of writing that, for example, “wizards must be trained,” we state that “wizards must usually be trained.” There are other variants on this, such as, “No one knew how else to become skilled without it, and so wizards had to be trained,” or “Wizards believed they had to be trained.” With each of these, we’re giving ourselves a subtle “out” that things might be different than we’re saying.

One problem with this is that people don’t always read carefully or remember accurately, and if characters are acting like something is an iron-clad rule, this impression can override what we technically said. In both cases, the audience can come to believe it’s a bona fide rule and chide us for breaking it. That we did some narrational sleight-of-hand is something we may not have the chance to point out, and even if we do, could be accused of tricking readers. Use this wisely and not too often.

Another ploy is having characters state the supposed fact. After all, they’re people, and those are fallible. It’s hardly our fault a character passed bad information on to other people, including the reader (of course it’s our fault)! To do this, we need either their dialogue or narration that is done in their perspective. In the former, we might put these words in someone’s mouth: “Kier, why do wizards have to be trained?” or “Kier, every wizard must be trained!” If the characters to whom this is said accept it as true, so may the audience. We can use their reaction to bolster or weaken the perceived accuracy of the statements.

Whether we want to employ these practices or not, it can be wise to note any statements of absolutism that imply there’s a rule. This sometimes happens in the act of storytelling. Develop a sense of this just as we do with any other aspect of writing, such as grammar mistakes. If we don’t catch it on writing, hopefully we will on editing our work. When we create or find such a statement, write it down in a file about this setting, appropriately categorizing it. In the above example, it’s about wizards, so it goes into the magic file, which should periodically be reviewed while writing this setting or designing games there.

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World Building Goals

Having a goal helps us reduce both the number of tasks and the depth of world building in which we engage. Otherwise we can spend too much time and energy on activities that don’t warrant them. We should always ask ourselves what we are hoping to achieve, and this is typically an enjoyable, immersive, and unique experience for our audience. World building isn’t the only way to achieve this, as good storytelling or gameplay can do the same, so world building is one trick in our arsenal – one we shouldn’t do at the expense of all others. “Moderation in all things.”

Decide on goals by asking yourself some questions:

Do I want to focus on storytelling and feel little desire to do world building?Do I plan to write many books or just a few to test the waters?Do I feel creative enough to invent a believable world in some detail? Will the setting be unusual enough to warrant the time spent on it?Do I have the time to do extensive world building, or something less extreme?Do I have the patience to stick with it for months or years?How will I feel if I spend years on a setting only to have rejections from agents and publishers? Am I willing to self-publish?Do I want (italics) to do this or do I have (italics) to do this?Do I think it’s fun and exciting or a chore and a burden?

Much of what we could do is optional, but certain elements are not. For example, we’ll probably need at least one sovereign power, maybe two, plus a few settlements within each. If the characters travel, land features between origin and destination will be encountered unless it’s SF and ground features can be bypassed. While we can develop only the areas to be shown in the story, we can suggest a wider world without actually creating it. Most other elements aren’t universally required but are project dependent. Most chapters in this series presented a breakdown of how to assess whether or not to invent something, or to what degree, but this is a general reminder to avoid becoming overwhelmed by choosing wisely.

It’s also worth mentioning that, while we often invent for a particular setting, sometimes we might not use an idea. If it’s not truly integrated with the world, we can reuse it elsewhere. Always be willing to jot down ideas.

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Where to Start with Other Systems

With all systems, we need to start with our genre. Fantasy and even dystopian SF might have much poorer infrastructure than modern Earth, while other SF might have the same or greater. This and how established the government is will impact that society’s ability to create a system, so consider whether it’s a new sovereign power or one of a several decades or more. While some systems extend throughout the society, some are more localized, so determine the scope of the system that’s being invented, such as if it’s a city, state, or country. These decisions are the broad strokes we need. Details such as when school starts and ends, or what kind of money is used and how it’s configured, are more a personal preference for our setting and we can make at any time based on what we like more than what’s likely.

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Info Systems in Fantasy

None of this technology exists in a medieval-like setting, so what did people do on Earth? Notices were sometimes posted on the door of important buildings like a church or town hall, but we can choose any location, like a castle or tower wall. For the townspeople, this requires reading skills, so if education is lax, it may not work or the settlement may have someone, like a priest or guard, assigned to stand there and read it off to anyone who can’t. With or without this, a town crier may announce the news in one of several ways, such as wandering through town as needed and repeating it as he goes, or at dawn, noon, and dusk at the town water supply. Especially important announcements might be preceded by a distinctive horn blast, guards even being used to round up everyone and ensure they attend. There may be regular days when less time-sensitive addresses are made, and our ruling class may add levels of pomp and circumstance to conveying information.

We should also consider the role of messengers. Some will travel on foot, others by horse or similar, and some may fly. One that travels by land must gain entrance to the destination, with guards trained on how to deal with them. To prevent gossip, they may instruct a messenger to remain silent about news until escorted to the right person, in private. People will be watching, of course, and may relate that a messenger from a given place has arrived and their state of mind (excited, afraid, calm). Flying messengers can bypass city walls and potentially circumvent all attempts at stopping the intended recipient from getting the message. These couriers may be animals like carrier pigeons or sentient, winged species that have far more discretion in how they go about their work.

All messengers may travel through potentially dangerous lands, so are there protections afforded them, and which wearing a distinctive clothing item, like a sash, promotes? There may be penalties for detaining or interfering with one, especially a king’s messenger. They might have the right to accommodations or food, free or reduced. Maybe we get kicked out of our room at a roadside inn because a king’s messenger needs it. How are messengers treated where they arrive? Unless someone openly courts war, they will be treated at least decently; only a foolish ruler does otherwise because if messengers are harmed, the flow of information may stop (if from a rival). However, a king killing messengers from cities within his kingdom may not stop them from coming if he can command it, but it’s the sort of abuse that leads absolute monarchs into trouble.

There may be mail systems like the Pony Express in the United States. Do ships or stagecoaches carry cargo and mail for ordinary people? They may do so for royalty, which can make them a target of pirates and thieves. As a result, many might be guarded, which could be a sign of a valuable shipment, leading to the guards pretending they aren’t guards but other travelers.

Magic also provides a means of spreading information. The crystal ball or magic mirror are two physical examples, but regardless of the manifestation we choose, these can be like either phone or video calls on Earth. We don’t need to restrict ourselves to one-on-one communication this way. Perhaps a shimmering image has taken the place of the town crier. Or a spell or clairaudience allows someone to communicate directly with a recipient’s mind, and is this one-way or mutual? For this to be a system and not a “one off,” we may want items that can be used for this.

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