Randy Ellefson's Blog, page 35
January 8, 2018
Where Does Your Monster Live?
Where a monster lives is important to any story involving it, even if its home is never shown. What it takes with it from there, how far away it travels, and what it takes home will affect our uses of the monster. Showing its home gives us an opportunity to characterize the monster, while avoiding doing so, or just giving hints, helps create mystery about it.
Our monster may not have a lair, but the nature of monsters in literature has typically been cautionary, meaning those living near it are supposed to learn something about themselves from the existence of this monster. We don’t have to follow that, but a monster that goes away for good may prevent a population from learning anything about themselves. On the other hand, traveling monsters provide new opportunities, even across other planets.
There’s no reason our monster can’t have access to easier means of getting around, such as a magical device or a portal near its home which it stumbled upon. For SF, a monster with access to an interstellar ship is very useful, and we can either have that ship be the monster’s lair or function like a home away from home. Possible justifications are either that the monster was on a ship when it became a monster, or that a ship landed near it and it ended up onboard, likely killing the crew after launch.
A lair can include treasure, weapons, and the remains of victims, all of those being fairly standard furnishings reminiscent of Medusa’s lair from Greek mythology. The bones are more likely from two occurrences—feeding on species or animals, and/or defending itself with the resulting victims left there. This is one reason to decide on our monster’s tastes. And if our monster leaves dead bodies around, this says something about it, whether that it doesn’t care about the smell, wants to send a message to visitors, or doesn’t have a clue about disposing of bodies. It might also be unaffected by any disease this could spread.
The mystery of where one lives often occupies stories to the point of being a cliché, and yet it is such an obvious concern that it’s nearly inevitable for characters to search for the lair. Rather than avoid this, make your search and discovery worthwhile. While a lair is often hard to find or reach (or escape from alive), making this impossible lessens the usefulness of our monster.
To aid this, decide what kind of evidence the monster leaves when it’s away from home. Are there trails or footprints leading back? Does it cover its tracks? Are spores left behind? Does it kill and leave remains or take anything with it, particularly something (or someone) valuable and which compels action to thwart it? Is the trail it leaves a trap? Is magic (in fantasy) or special tracking equipment (in SF) needed? Does it have the ability to thwart some measures?
Knowing whether our monster is nocturnal or not will figure into any stories. Things awake and prowling at night are more intimidating, but there’s no reason it can’t be active during the day. The effect on a population terrorized by it becomes all encompassing, for they’d still fear it more at night, just because humans, at least, fear the dark. Our monster’s enemies will have some sense of its schedule and will plan their attacks for when it’s sleeping, if they know its lair. If they don’t, they’ll be trying to trap or otherwise attack it when it’s on the prowl.
January 4, 2018
How Can Monsters Evolve?
In this section, we look at how monsters can naturally evolve from their environment and when this makes sense to use.
January 2, 2018
Who Creates a Monster On Purpose?
Some monsters might have been created on purpose, from something already alive or something inanimate. The latter suggests great power behind its creation, such as a wizard or god, both found in fantasy but often not in SF. This suggests that fantasy can get away with monsters that are farther removed from humans and animals than science fiction, where mutation of pre-existing life is more likely. But there’s nothing that says technology, if it’s advanced enough, can’t create life from nothing.
Either way, our monster by design likely has a purpose. It’s possible someone was experimenting with creating life, like Dr. Frankenstein. But that’s been done, which is not to say that we can’t do it, too, but we should strive for a fresh angle if we do. Maybe the monster’s creation was successful and it’s here for a reason, such as guarding something. Or terrorizing villages at a wizard’s beckoning, which suggests story ideas. The creator should have some reason as to why they did it.
Maybe the monster is still fulfilling its purpose. Is it proud of that, or does it wish it were free of it? Is it bound somehow? Perhaps its purpose is long gone and it doesn’t know what to do with itself. Perhaps its master has been destroyed and the monster is on its own now. Or the master was imprisoned and the faithful monster intends to free him. The monster may never really have a purpose at all. These monsters might experience an existential crisis like Frankenstein’s monster, who is tormented by its existence and doesn’t understand what it did wrong to be cast out by its creator.
This sort of monster can also elicit sympathy if desired. Slavery is still slavery. The monster can be tormented by its existence. Maybe it will even welcome death at the hands of those seeking to slay it, but maybe it fears that others want to capture it, and so it must fight back. There’s always the monster that’s content with being one, which is probably more likely with a monster created on purpose than with a monster created by accident (and which may remember the past or be disabled in some way that makes its existence especially hateful).
Humans have a moral and ethical code. Monsters are depicted as not having one. This helps us use them as they were often intended, as a warning about untoward behavior. But monsters may have a moral code, too, just one very different from ours, where the killing of sentient life is no big deal to them, for example. Their creator might’ve wanted to imbue them with certain traits, like protection of them or an item. That raises the question of how much control the creator had/has over the monster. Is the creator dissatisfied with his work? Are monster and master bound in mutual loathing but dependency? If the master is killed, will the monster die, and vice versa?
Who Caused It?
Who would create a monster on purpose? Wizards, gods, and “mad” scientists come to mind (like Dr. Frankenstein and Dr. Jekyll). So do bad people who’ve captured others and who want to see what happens when someone is exposed to something dangerous. It’s possible that no one knows who created a given monster, meaning we don’t have to mention it, but stories do well when there’s some speculation about a monster’s origin. Mystery is good, but not total mystery, which is why we all love clues.
Any character willingly creating monsters is likely up to no good. The creator’s motivation should be understandable even if the logic behind what they’ve done is terrible and twisted. In fantasy, gods are a great choice because they might like creating beings for reasons never explained to the species. Or maybe they just want to keep life interesting for sentient inhabitants by creating monsters they have to deal with. SF offers many ways to expose someone to phenomenon, including viral infections from new worlds.
December 28, 2017
How To Invent Accidental Monsters
We needn’t tell our audience where the monster came from originally, and in gaming it’s arguably irrelevant, but the thought exercise can make the result more interesting. The first question should be whether it exists on purpose or by accident.
Accidental Monsters
In worlds with magic, advanced technologies, or unexplained phenomena, the accidental route is especially viable. This is where many comic book characters originate. There are many possibilities that need little in the way of explaining how the monster came about. It encountered something and now it’s a monster. That’s it. No one is going to say our mutated human isn’t possible.
This raises an important point—accidents happen to pre-existing entities, whether animal or a humanoid species. They don’t generally cause a lifeform to spring from nonliving matter. We can do whatever we want, like having a broom become possessed of life as in The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, but none of us regard that as a monster. It’s an animate object.
This also suggests that plants can become monsters even if we don’t usually refer to them that way, but “monster” implies the ability to interact and to change location, not an inanimate object rooted to the ground. After all, a monster that can’t change location typically isn’t particularly terrifying. We could just stay out of reach or wall it up if desired. Maybe it can move but is tied to its lair, literally or figuratively, for some reason we’d want to reveal. Then again, maybe it has telekinetic powers and can influence people over a wide area, messing with their minds so that they have hallucinations, the most important of those being hiding its true whereabouts—or tricking people into coming near enough to become food, like the sirens of Greek mythology.
The accidental route means our monster having some intelligence is more feasible, if it was once human or another sentient species. Years or even decades in the mutated state could have rendered that intelligence muted. Or the incident could’ve immediately rendered it dumber. Or vastly smarter.
Someone caught in an accident has one advantage—our sympathy. They’re a monster now, but maybe once it was a good person with a family, one it wishes to see but is afraid to visit. It might either scare them or something worse, like feel a desire to eat them because that’s what they do as a monster now, having poor impulse control. The monster may recall their past life and be hostile precisely because that old life is gone. This gives it motivation, discussed more below.
Who Caused It?
We’ll need to decide who and/or what caused the accident. Readers want to know such things once one is mentioned. SF offers countless ways for this to happen, from alien weapons, physics gone awry, chemical experiments, or space phenomena. In fantasy, magic, otherworldly creatures, or other supernatural elements are likely sources.
Not all accidents just happen. Some are the result of whatever pursuit someone had, such as trying to manipulate matter or subdue forces. This is a good chance to dream up a scenario that led to the accident. We may have a story to tell as a result. Other characters crop up. Maybe our monster is the one behind the accident but blames someone else. Another option is for someone to have been purposely exposed to something that is intended to kill them but which results in a monster instead. Then there’s the innocent bystander or even a hero who meant to stop an atrocity but is now a monster.
December 26, 2017
How to Create Monsters
A world with monsters is arguably more entertaining than one without.
Appendix 4 is a template for creating one. It includes more comments and advice, and an editable Microsoft Word file can be downloaded for free by signing up for the newsletter at http://www.artofworldbuilding.com/newsletter/
Defining Monster
We all know what a monster is, but since we might be creating species and animals, too, let’s be clear. The term implies something harmful, unnatural, and morally objectionable, whether there’s a physical deformity or psychological one. Monsters aren’t real, of course, and are created by storytellers, usually to depict or highlight some of the above, sometimes as a warning. They are often a freak of nature and can result from birth defects, in which case it was something else, like a human, before being regarded as a monster by horrified onlookers. Their existence has often been thought to foreshadow something evil happening, which is one reason they are cast out.
In science fiction and fantasy, the word “sentient” is used to describe creatures that are human-like in their mental capabilities, even though that’s not what the word really means. Due to this convention, this usage will be retained herein anyway. The real definition of sentient only includes the ability to sense, feel, and experience, which means an animal is technically sentient.
As a side note, with space traveling characters visiting new planets, what they might term a monster at first might turn out to be an indigenous animal. Either that, or it’s a member of a species that might’ve been stranded, for example, and terrifies those near through no fault of its own except appearance, and it’s assumed to be a monster.
Monsters vs. Species
The difference between a monster and an intelligent species is arguably their minds. A humanoid species is typically sophisticated in having what humans have: society, culture, philosophy, and other aspects that distinguish us from animals. This is a generalization, but monsters don’t typically have these things, or at least, not in a way beyond that of animals. We can argue, rightly, that animals like dolphins and apes have a certain social structure, but these are communicated as much with body language as verbally. Any language is fairly limited compared to mankind. They don’t read and write or pass down long histories. A generation today likely has no idea what was happening one hundred years ago, though this is admittedly conjecture.
None of this means we can’t have an intelligent monster if we choose to, but once we start giving a monster these things, it starts moving in the direction of humanity. We may find ourselves deciding that our monster is very cool and could be more useful, so we turn it into a species. No harm in that. Dracula is a good example of a smarter monster, but while he is a vampire now, he was once human. This is also true of zombies, who are typically portrayed as relatively stupid. We can use a similar approach (the monster was once human) to explain our monster’s sophistication.
Does monster automatically mean unsophisticated like an animal? In fantasy, SF, and gaming, yes. They’re typically portrayed as things that can’t be reasoned with when one corners us for dinner or we wander into its territory. In this sense, they’re just like animals. We likely can’t communicate verbally with it, either, but that’s not a rule either. We can teach pets to understand what words mean, but that involves frequent time together, a reality that would make someone no longer think of the monster as such, most likely. This raises the idea of most people thinking it’s a monster but one person having befriended it, which has been done with children’s stories.
Monsters vs. Animals
A major difference between monsters and animals is numbers. Just about every monster we’ve heard of was a “one off,” meaning only one existed. The reason is the aforementioned purpose in a story—to teach a specific lesson that didn’t require more of them—and because they are abnormal, which by definition means uncommon.
This is not to say we can’t have more than one. Zombies and vampires are good examples, but in both cases, these originated from humans and we don’t generally consider them monsters even if they’re monstrous. In a film series like Aliens, we have what appears to be a monster but which is really an animal. Why? Numbers.
If we have more than one, can we still call it a monster? Sure, though “creature” might be a better term, but if we read the definition of that, it means animal. Does our audience care about definitions? Probably not. Either way, the existence of two or more identical monsters benefits from a good explanation, such as both of them being created at the same time as in a laboratory accident. Even then, there’s no reason to say that the accident caused identical mutations. One accident could cause twenty different monsters, not twenty of one type, which are capable of reproducing and then being considered animals. Once we start multiplying them, we’re going to start needing a name for them, at least, and unless they scatter, they might start developing more sentience (like society and language), sooner or later, and start becoming a species.
We needn’t ever refer to our creation as a monster, but people use this term partly because there is only one. It has no name. It’s an “it,” as well, not a he or she, even if it appears to have a known gender. No one knows what to call it, unless it’s been nearby a long time and someone gave it a nickname that stuck. In the book Frankenstein, the monster has no name, but because promo efforts for the movies use the monster prominently, people often think its name is Frankenstein when that’s really the doctor’s name.
December 21, 2017
Where to Start Inventing World Figures
The first fundamental decision is what type of person are we inventing: good or evil? While it’s true that some will consider a person one way while others consider them another, it’s easier for us to decide on one to start with and decide later how enemies might view them. We should also decide their profession, such as knight, warrior, priest, or ruler. This will determine their capabilities and often how traveled they are, plus their influence. Next we should decide what we’re hoping to achieve with this person. Remember that they aren’t necessarily a character we’ll use in a prominent way (we can do that later of course), but someone whose existence influenced the world and inhabitants. The deeds for which they became famous are often central to this, so focus on what they’ve done. Another major decision is how long ago they lived and died, or whether they’re still alive. Other items can be saved for last, including possessions, steeds, ships, family, relationships, origins, and training.
December 18, 2017
Your Hero’s Training and Skills
This section discusses our world figure’s training and skills (and how they acquired them or how to decide what they can do). It also talks about the deeds that made them famous and how to make them relevant to our world and story needs.
December 11, 2017
How to Create a Hero Character’s History
Origins, Demise, and in Between
While we don’t need every last detail of where a character came from, it helps to know their original continent, at the least, and preferably a kingdom, too. The latter might wait until we’ve invented more and decided on the governments and quality of life there, as discussed in detail in Creating Places (The Art of World Building, #2). Decide whether they still live there, have taken up residence elsewhere, or became a wanderer. Create a quick reason for their choice, which may have been influenced by familial concerns, such as keeping relatives safe by going far away and lying about origins. Or if the government made life horrible for people, they might have left. Or maybe life was wonderful and they left to help those less fortunate.
Our choices will impact much about their worldview, assuming we’ve created cultures as detailed in Cultures and Beyond (The Art of World Building, #3). The society they came from will have beliefs and customs, and while the latter is not hugely important, the former is. There are basic ideas about how life should be lived, such as how different genders are treated. This is more important for characters that we intend to use as more than a reference, but if the Kingdom of Norn viewed woman as little more than sex objects and our male hero is from there, this would impact how well he gets along with people in other cultures that differ. Is this the reason he couldn’t get along with peers and worked alone, for example?
Once we’ve decided where they came from, decide where they’ve lived or even if they just kept moving as if in search of something. Having multiple sovereign powers they’ve been influenced by helps create personality. This is another thing we needn’t worry about too much at first (if at all) unless planning to use their residence in some way, such as a story where people end up there. Their home might have booby traps, whether mundane, technological, or magical. In SF, surveillance from a distance is likely, but we can still do this in fantasy with spells or magic devices. Decide how simple or majestic their home is. Personality will figure into this, but so will the fame heaped upon them and whether they’ve monetarily benefited from their exploits or not.
If the character is dead, decide where the remains and any special items they possessed are. Is the body intact? Is it ashes? Is that grave actually empty but few if any know it? Maybe their grave is guarded, revered, or haunted. Their items can be buried with them or hidden. Maybe the items are lost, or just believed lost, and someone secretly has them, though it can be more interesting if more than one person has the various items, especially if they are needed together.
If they’re still alive, where are they living now? What are they doing with their time? Are they hunted and living with lots of protection, or are they celebrated and afraid old enemies will destroy those they love? Are they imprisoned? Living world figures can be fun, though maybe nothing beats undead ones.
December 5, 2017
What Are Your World Figure’s Relationships Like?
When creating a world figure, their relationships may not be that important to us if we’ll do little more than have a character name-drop their hero. This can be an area to skimp on until later, if ever, but should we decide to invent their relationships, this section may help. Some people are famous for who they kept company with, including who their enemies were.
Family
Parents, siblings, lovers, and children (and extended family) all provide benefit or add risk to heroes and villains alike, so decide who is in our character’s life. Or what happened to those people if gone. Did family die first, breaking our character’s spirit, or did family outlive him and mourn our dead character, possibly wanting revenge on a killer or responsible party? One of those mourners might be even more interesting than the person we started creating. A family of evildoers can be a lot of fun. A family of heroes can make us root for the lot of them. A family with both is even better.
If they have children, do they know about all of them? It’s a cliché to have an unknown child turn up, so you might want to avoid that. Television shows, especially soap operas, desperate for a surprise twist, have ruined that. The unknown sibling is equally cheesy, so if we’re going that route, make it good, interesting, and plausible. After all, it actually does (italics) happen, but we might want to only do that once in an entire writing career. If we need to introduce someone later, it’s better to admit our character knew that the person existed and it just didn’t come up in a story due to irrelevance (before now). Try to avoid playing the unknown relative card.
Has our villain been disavowed by relatives? This might be some or all of them. Some relatives might offer safe harbor at the risk of being cast out by the rest, or punished by society. What’s in it for them to risk this? Perhaps they truly love our villain and feel they can save him one day. A mother who can’t give up on her baby, now an adult, is overdone but understandable. Less common is a mother who has turned on their child. Potent emotions can be the reason our villain went bad in the first place.
Then there’s our hero, who might wish to make family proud but whose actions have put family members in harm’s way. Heroes have powerful enemies and there’s no telling what some will do to family. Has our hero hidden children or a lover to protect them? Do the protected ones chafe at this? What kind of stress has arisen between hero and family due to this? Has anyone died despite our hero’s attempt to protect them, and what effect did this have on them? Are they guilt ridden? Did they quit and let the evil they swore to stop go unchallenged, letting it win, and if so, what did it do to our hero? Destroy him? Is he a drunk now, unable to take all the guilt? Will he be redeemed one day? Are the children old enough to have a life of their own and cause trouble for their hero parent in other ways, as only teenagers can?
This raises a final point that is often overlooked—there are descendants of this person. Maybe one of our story’s characters is that descendant, whether one generation later or dozens. If other characters know that, it can be something they want to downplay. These relatives may have changed their name or done something to hide their association, and this may have worked for most people but not fooled everyone, possibly with consequences down the road. A common idea is of a deceased relative coming back from the grave to inhabit the body of a relative, so be clever if going that familiar route.
The Species
Since our character is famous, he’s likely famous outside of his own species. With each species having a different world view, each might view this person differently. A hero to some will be a villain to others. Be sure to think about this to give your character added dimension. While elves and dwarves might view the character positively, each might have gripes about it. By contrast, ogres and goblins might view the individual as evil but again have slightly different issues with them.
While creating deeds for our character, keep in mind that they may have run into conflict with one or more species while undertaking a mission. This can range from obvious encounters with ogres, for example, to enthusiastic help from elves and grudging aid from dwarves. Or the latter could’ve been openly hostile to what they wanted to do, not allowing our character to enter their lands, forcing him to take the long way around, for example. Make sure everything wasn’t easy for them or there wouldn’t be a reason they’re famous.
What Are Your Race’s Relationships Like?
When creating a world figure, their relationships may not be that important to us if we’ll do little more than have a character name-drop their hero. This can be an area to skimp on until later, if ever, but should we decide to invent their relationships, this section may help. Some people are famous for who they kept company with, including who their enemies were.
Family
Parents, siblings, lovers, and children (and extended family) all provide benefit or add risk to heroes and villains alike, so decide who is in our character’s life. Or what happened to those people if gone. Did family die first, breaking our character’s spirit, or did family outlive him and mourn our dead character, possibly wanting revenge on a killer or responsible party? One of those mourners might be even more interesting than the person we started creating. A family of evildoers can be a lot of fun. A family of heroes can make us root for the lot of them. A family with both is even better.
If they have children, do they know about all of them? It’s a cliché to have an unknown child turn up, so you might want to avoid that. Television shows, especially soap operas, desperate for a surprise twist, have ruined that. The unknown sibling is equally cheesy, so if we’re going that route, make it good, interesting, and plausible. After all, it actually does (italics) happen, but we might want to only do that once in an entire writing career. If we need to introduce someone later, it’s better to admit our character knew that the person existed and it just didn’t come up in a story due to irrelevance (before now). Try to avoid playing the unknown relative card.
Has our villain been disavowed by relatives? This might be some or all of them. Some relatives might offer safe harbor at the risk of being cast out by the rest, or punished by society. What’s in it for them to risk this? Perhaps they truly love our villain and feel they can save him one day. A mother who can’t give up on her baby, now an adult, is overdone but understandable. Less common is a mother who has turned on their child. Potent emotions can be the reason our villain went bad in the first place.
Then there’s our hero, who might wish to make family proud but whose actions have put family members in harm’s way. Heroes have powerful enemies and there’s no telling what some will do to family. Has our hero hidden children or a lover to protect them? Do the protected ones chafe at this? What kind of stress has arisen between hero and family due to this? Has anyone died despite our hero’s attempt to protect them, and what effect did this have on them? Are they guilt ridden? Did they quit and let the evil they swore to stop go unchallenged, letting it win, and if so, what did it do to our hero? Destroy him? Is he a drunk now, unable to take all the guilt? Will he be redeemed one day? Are the children old enough to have a life of their own and cause trouble for their hero parent in other ways, as only teenagers can?
This raises a final point that is often overlooked—there are descendants of this person. Maybe one of our story’s characters is that descendant, whether one generation later or dozens. If other characters know that, it can be something they want to downplay. These relatives may have changed their name or done something to hide their association, and this may have worked for most people but not fooled everyone, possibly with consequences down the road. A common idea is of a deceased relative coming back from the grave to inhabit the body of a relative, so be clever if going that familiar route.
The Species
Since our character is famous, he’s likely famous outside of his own species. With each species having a different world view, each might view this person differently. A hero to some will be a villain to others. Be sure to think about this to give your character added dimension. While elves and dwarves might view the character positively, each might have gripes about it. By contrast, ogres and goblins might view the individual as evil but again have slightly different issues with them.
While creating deeds for our character, keep in mind that they may have run into conflict with one or more species while undertaking a mission. This can range from obvious encounters with ogres, for example, to enthusiastic help from elves and grudging aid from dwarves. Or the latter could’ve been openly hostile to what they wanted to do, not allowing our character to enter their lands, forcing him to take the long way around, for example. Make sure everything wasn’t easy for them or there wouldn’t be a reason they’re famous.
