Ennead Games is looking for blog contributors.
As a designer I’m running out of time to work on both my blog and the publishing side of things, so I need your help.
Most of us have the urge to try to get something published on the net at some point, or just get exposure for our own previously published work.
What I’m looking for is contributors for the blog. This blog was orignially planned to be a resource for both designers, stroytellers and and roleplayers for all genres. A combination of bad health, multiple family deaths and work-load has seen this fall by the wayside and I’m trying now to correct this , hopefully with your help. All contributions will of course be credited to the author. Think of it as a platform for showing off your work and ideas.
The type of contributions I’m looking for :
The main genre is fantasy/medievil, but other grenres, espically science fiction, is welcome.
If this is something you are interested in doing, then please get in touch via contact@enneadgames.com
The awesome Digital Games Museum is doing a fundraiser – but you can contribute ahead of time!
If you’re big on Video Games, game history, and geek citizenship, you can do your part at Silicon Valley Gives!
Respectfully,
– Steven Savage
http://www.musehack.com/
http://www.informotron.com/
http://www.seventhsanctum.com/
(Way With Worlds is a weekly column on the art of worldbuilding published at Seventh Sanctum, Muse Hack, and Ongoing Worlds)
So having discussed TMI and the danger of infodumps, let’s ask a bit more about how you can communicate your world without everyone talking about it.
Or reading about it.
Or listening to a newscast
Or . . . you get the idea.
It’s easy in a game or story or what have you to try and tell people about the world by having characters do it. By speech or by writing or by The Exposition Channel, it’s easy to resort to the words of characters to fill people in. We’re used to talking to people, and sometimes we talk to our audience through people.
It’s infodumps in any way shape or form. Sure it might be an infodump wearing a funny hat, but an info dump it is.
Which of course is obvious as hell and instantly takes people out of the immersion. When you, the author, the worldbuilder, resort to an info dump it’s obviously “you” doing it. You’re about as concealed as a cartoon character hiding behind a tiny tree. Wile E. Coyote is not your role model, my dear worldbuilder.
So I’d like to cover ways you can tell people about the world without resorting to doing the grenade-fishing equivalent of information sharing. Many of these are things that you should be doing anyway, but we often forget them. Done right, they communicate a rich amount of information.
These methods can be extra powerful because they aren’t always consciously understood by the reader. They’re background detail, little things, but they can add up. When they do (consciously or not) people are really drawn into a world because it all just makes sense.
The reader or player may even get a tiny thrill of figuring it out – but really you set the stage for them to do it.
Imagine a character who stammers as they discuss something – indicating fear (and the reason for which may become clear). Think of a giant futuristic megalopolis where the air smells unnaturally clean (which tells you it’s over-processed or hints that something is wrong). A battlefield-turned-charnel house tells you of not just a battle lost, but of one lost so badly no one is retrieving bodies for some reason (say the war has moved on and is intense).
So much happens without someone explaining it. So much without newscasts and walls of text and four-page speeches.
The unsaid may even emphasize things everyone knows. Mark Ruffalo’s twitchy, troubled Bruce Banner in The Avengers, a living raw nerve, said more about the character than any exposition. We know he’s the Hulk – he made us understand what it was like to live with The Other Guy waiting to come out.
So let’s look at how you can communicate your world without shouting things from the metaphorical rooftops
Blushing, looking around, twitching, pacing. Wordless actions by characters say so much about them. In turn they can say a lot about the world.
If travelers to a particular town always seem tired, or are thought of as “always exhausted’ by a character, we know the journey there is always grueling. If a character nervously waves off a subject we know something makes them uncomfortable – and that may tell us something is up. If people are in a rush to get through a checkout, there’s a reason – and soon we find out a hurricane is approaching in the story.
If you’re designing non-human races, be aware of these kinds of communication as well. An alien’s tentacles may twitch when he’s nervous, or a fish-person’s gills turn blue when he’s embarrassed. Learning these involuntary actions can even be a vital part of some stories for the characters and the audience.
We’ve heard the term “speaking with our hands,” and if you think about it, gestures can play an enormous part of communications. Peace signs, shaking hands, putting a finger to one’s lips to indicate silence, winking knowingly – all forms of communication. Just think of many internet conversations would be easier if you could see someone’s expression and gestures (even if said gesture is a middle finger)
However these don’t use words. Characters gesturing or pointing things out is a great way to make a point (so to speak) and not talk about it. You can go into detail how a city block has great food – or you can have a character, when asked what’s the best restauraunt gesture helplessly around because it’s all good.
Speaking of . . .
Food is the fuel for sentient beings. Without it (in whatever form) they’re dead, and you don’t have much of a story except, perhaps, in the afterlife.
But food also says enormous things about culture, people, how they live. A simple description of a meal, how it’s gotten, how it smells, what’s in it, can say an enormous amount.
If your sword-wielding fantasy adventurer has six vegetarian meals in a town then you may realize that’s part of the culture. A character used to delicacies may balk at simpler fare they’ve never seen before (telling you a lot about them). Endless farmland surrounding a town tells you about the economy, how people eat, and perhaps even the politics (read about the Japanese Edo period to see a shining example)
As a personal example, I do a lot of my own cooking and eat healthy and natural. It means my kitchen is often a bit disordered, you can usually smell spices, and there’s usually a few unused pickling or storage jars as I cycle through experiments. But describe my kitchen and you’d get a half an idea of how I eat and learn a lot about me without ever talking about me.
And that’s if I don’t have, say, a jar of fermenting peppers around . . .
Cultures are about the exchange of things. As cells exchange materials, so do people, keeping the organism of society going.
Economics may indeed be the dismal science, but it’s a fantastic thing to help you describe the world.
Rich clothes and poorly kept building. Piles of coins and zeroes in a bank account. Shortages and surpluses. The signs of economic activity can say an incredible about of things without anyone having to tell you. A comment, the need to protect a vital shipment of materials, some poor-quality food at a high price all say something.
I live in Silicon Valley as of this writing, and as of this writing, rent is a big issue as it keeps going up. The reasons for that tell you a lot about the area and the economy, but merely knowing it alone is an alert that something is up.
The economics in your tales and games will say a lot about the world.
Clothes say a lot. Maybe you can’t judge a book by its cover, but clothes communicate a lot. A smartly-pressed business suit can tell someone you’re a professional (of what sort may be a question, admittedly). Casual clothes may say you don’t care or that you’re relaxing. A soldier’s uniform communicates a great deal about him or her, especially if its formal with a display of medals.
Clothes also say things about the wider culture. Traditional dress may say something about the culture, or let a person quickly size up a character. Little styles may say something about a character, from a meticulous hairstye to muddy shoes.
How characters dress can say a lot, and how populations say a lot. Working that into descriptions or character designs says things without using words (or many words).
Pencils and pens, weapons and cars, all of them say something about a world – without you having to explain too much.
Imagine if you have a fantasy world, but the roads are covered with “autocoaches, and the infernal glow of their storage globes.” You just explained you have a world of magical transport and even hinted that they’ve got glowing fuel tanks in a few words.
Or think of a world that’s like ours. A personal computer in’t unusual – a lack of one may be. If everyone seems to use a bicycle you’e just said a lot about the culture and economy. If everyone uses cash and not a credit card you’ve said something.
Things that people use everyday tell you about the world.
Now the sense of what artifacts mean can change with time and reference so you have to be aware of your current and future audience. But artifacts tell a lot.
What your world is made of, how it is made, says a great deal about it.
Think of how the world around you is built. Materials have to be shipped, workers do work, systems maintained. Roads are built for reasons. Architecture is engineering and history and science and art all in one, a building speaking to a given style or given economic limits or benefits.
It says a lot about a culture or a people or a person without you having to explain it directly.
Soaring towers speak of some effort of construction. Simple hovels could mean poverty – or a hermit’s simple dwelling. Decay can be a sign of poverty or war, shining brass of careful upkeep or pretension. A paved road replaced with gravel tells you of a decline in the economy.
Architecture is the part of your setting heavily engineered by characters, so it says a lot about who they are/were, their situation, and their world.
So here’s something to help you out. Think of the most important elements of your world that your audience has GOT to understand. List about 5 of them.
Now in the above categories (Expressions, Gestures, Cuisine, Economics, Clothes, Artifacts, and Architecture) ask how you could communicate those traits without explaining the meaning directly to your audience.
This kind of exercise is greta practice – in fact I bet you can think up plenty of categories I missed to try and communicate your world.
Good luck with communicating your world – and learning how to shut up so you can speak!
Respectfully,
– Steven Savage
http://www.musehack.com/
http://www.informotron.com/
http://www.seventhsanctum.com/
(Way With Worlds is a weekly column on the art of worldbuilding published at Seventh Sanctum, Muse Hack, and Ongoing Worlds)
TMI is a slang term for “Too Much Information” (and one that hopefully is still relevant when your read this). It’s basically a remind you’ve said too much, usually in an embarrassing way about an equally embarrassing subjects. Writers and worldbuilders face their own risks with TMI when we communicate our worlds.
We can overdo telling people about them.
You know what I’m talking about. The infodump that goes on for pages, the loving detail in a character’s mind most normal human (and human-alikes) would never think like, the historical quotes that seem like their own stories. It’s when you tell too damn much, so much people are taken out of the story or game, out of the world, and into your notes.
Maybe we can’t resist doing it because we have so much to share. Maybe we want to make sure people understand. Maybe we want to make sure they’re not totally lost. Maybe we follow the style of an author or writer we loved and overdo it.
It seems that when we do it, we do it big-time.
People don’t need TMI. TMI distracts because there’s suddenly a Wall Of Exposition. TMI confuses as the context may make sense only in your head. TMI disappoints as it can spoil stories. TMI breaks the sense of realism as infodumps feel like they came from outside the world. TMI can even change your story, as a rollicking adventure becomes a three-page discussion of dragon biology.
We as worldbuilders have to learn to communicate the right amount of information. That’s hard.
TMI is actually hard to deliberately avoid because so much of it is emotional, or easy to misinterpret, or private. We don’t want to go the other direction and not reveal enough. In the end I’ve come to a simple conclusion.
Communications in your text, characters, story, exposition should:
This is an organic process, and empathy is a big part of it – you have to have a sense of both your characters and your audience. It’s art, not science, and I think awareness of it gets you halfway there – the other half is experience in doing it (or not doing it). Keep world building, keep writing – and keep taking feedback from your editors and your readers and your own reading.
However I can provide you guidance to know when you’ve gone into TMI territory. Setting the outer boundaries may help keep you out of TMI territory, or learn when you cross over.
Here’s where you may mess up:
Sometimes our writing and world building results in us shoving the fact we have a world in people’s faces. There’s a huge world out there and we feel we have to remind them of it. Suddenly there’s unneeded maps and infodumps and unneeded references. This takes people right out of the story or game where they experience your world, and puts them into knowing the world was constructed.
Worlds are experienced, not told about. Remember that. Help with the experience.
Oh, and doing can also seem like bragging. Don’t make the readers dislike you, it’s not conductive to their enjoyment.
Be it realistic or weird, sometimes we go into TMI mode because we want to show them everything we did. We’ve got to cram it in descriptions and dialogue, and . . . well at that point suddenly we’re giving too much information. There’s so much there, but it’s hard to help ourselves.
In real life I don’t launch into extensive discussions of public transport history without prompting. Your characters shouldn’t do the same.
In real life you don’t look at a bookstore and recall your entire past history of going there in florid detail. Neither should your characters unless that *is* the story.
Don’t go showing off extensive detail. Show what is appropriate for the stories, character, and setting. Your audience can fill in the gaps.
Besides, then you have enough for your eventual world guide book or tip guide for your game or whatever.
How many times do you need to know a character went to the bathroom? Or the sit through a five minute FMV discussing why this elf is a psychotic killer? Or . . . you get the idea. Realism can be overdone when people brag about it.
When your attempts to communicate to the audience are “look see how realistic I am, man I thought this out” then you have a problem. Your audience is probably going to give you the benefit of a doubt, you know? Working too hard to show realism becomes a source of TMI.
People are not going to be impressed by the realism of your world when its shoved in their face – and some things can be assumed (such as characters actually going to the bathroom or eating). People can give your characters and world credit for being realistic or at least having its own realism. They don’t need it described to them in painful detail.
Another form of TMI is “look at this weird thing I did, wow isn’t it awesome” where your story or game or play shows off, in painful detail, the crazy thing you did. You want them to know how innovative you are, how odd this is, as opposed to letting them feel the impact.
it’s almost a flipside of Aggressive Realism; instead of trying to convince people of the realism of your story more than you need, you try to bring them into the strange-yet-real part.
It’s really showing of how weird you can be but still pull the world off.
In reality, if it’s not weird for your characters, it shouldn’t seem weird to the audience. In fact, keep in mind the impact of weirdness is amplified when it seems normal.
TMI can affect many a worldbuilder and storytelling. In a few cases we probably need some writers to lean towards it a bit more as they get lost in tropes and assumptions.
In the end however serious TM ruins the experience of a work, it takes people out of the world and into you lecturing them or showing off.
Worldbuilding is about detail. When it comes to your stories or gmes or whatever, instead learn to communicate what’s important to people. The details you know let you tell the story – the details they find out let them understand it.
You just don’t need to know where all the trap doors and scenery is to enjoy the play.
Respectfully,
– Steven Savage
http://www.musehack.com/
http://www.informotron.com/
http://www.seventhsanctum.com/
Sorry folks, but that last Tumblr update the company made? Looks like it crashed the system I use to make updates to the site with generated results – after trying several troubleshooting steps I ended up opening a support ticket.
Respectfully,
– Steven Savage
http://www.musehack.com/
http://www.informotron.com/
http://www.seventhsanctum.com/
So After being challenged on the issues of language and sentients over at Trilobyte Studios, I decided it was time to focus my rewrite of Way With Worlds on my language columns of the past.
And nothing is a better example of the issue of writing good language than how we refer to technology – and by technology I mean anything used to achieve a goal, from a spell to computers. For the sake of not having to say “technology and magic” over and over a gain, I’m going to refer to this as Technology most of the time.
When we talk Technology, we face the most fascinating question of how people using technology refer to it in our worlds. Think of how many words we have for tools and so forth. Think of how characters need to refer to technology in their worlds.
Think of how we often do it wrong.
Technobabble is a general term used for “scientific-sounding” BS-ey terminology used to refer to technology. Many science fiction stories and properties are infamous for this; “Star Trek” is often joked about, but it’s everywhere. It’s that term made from throwing together three scientific terms, it’s that spell that sounds like something no normal human (or elf) would describe in those words.
You know the kind of terms I’m talking about
I really didn’t get how bad it could get until I got into making the random generators of Seventh Sanctum. I’d make ones to describe weapons and technology, and suddenly I could see how words were just slammed together to make something vaguely technical. I could see how often mystical spells had come from The Home Of THe Assembled Adjective.
There’s something about Technobabble tat just feels wrong. It’s the uncanny valley of technology, because it’s got words but it doesn’t feel like ones humans would use.
It’s words made by an author, not a character.
And That’s the problem.
To discuss the best way to avoid Technobabble, I’d like to look at the problem and then step back on how to solve it. The reason for this is simply because we’re too used to technobabble, and we don’t always see it.
By now we’re used to fictionally crafted worlds, with their made-up terms, and of course their technobabble and magicbabble. It’s something we just sort of plow through and tolerate and really promise we won’t do . . . right before we do it. It keeps popping up.
Technobabble is kind of the Shingles of bad terminology.
I’ve found that there’s a few warning signs you’re using technobabble.
Classic Technobabble – When you’ve got Heisenberg Rail Cannons and Nomydium Alloy Quantum Stabilized Armor you have straight-up classic grade A technobabble. This is when you’ve thrown a lot of sciencey/magical words together that really don’t say much. It’s borders on being real babble.
Coldbabble – Coldbabble is technobabble that’s Technobabble’s evil twin – just evil in a different way. This is when your description sounds like a kind of operating instructions or label. It’s a spell that an actual person calls “A Level 3 Muscle Mending Spell” or a technology referred to as a “Flesh Restoration Pod.” It says something, but not in the way most people would
Transplant Babble – This occurs when people graft terminology from one setting or one idea into another with no good reason. It’s fantasy characters referring to light spells as Lasers – just so the audience gets it when they wouldn’t. This is a less common issue, but now and then you’ll see it.
So how do you avoid these traps -and others I doubtlessly haven’t identified? It’s simple.
You’ve got to stop naming technology and ask what it means to the people using it. It’s all about the characters.
Why do we have special terms for technology (and magic and other tools)? Simple – we need to refer to them properly.
We need to call a hammer a hammer when you just need someone to hand it to you. We may refer to a computer with more detailed description, like make or model, to communicate that information. We need to refer to tools so we can talk about them.
Just like anything else.
The key to writing good technical language and avoiding Technobabble is to ask what language is needed to refer to said tools – in the setting, by the characters.
In fact, there may be many ways to refer to the same thing. The reason Technobabble of all kinds often seems weird as characters will use the same made-up terms in all situations.
Let’s look at these factors.
Factor 1 – Context
Terminology depends on context. Who is speaking, who is being spoken too. Technology of all kinds will have terms relevant to the context it is used in.
Technology will have multiple names but all should be meaningful.
The pain in your leg probably has a very long latinized term your doctor uses – and it describes the symptom in a detailed way. A car engine is properly an internal combustion engine – but who curses their “internal combustion engine” for not working? We refer to an explosive called TNT, but the name is derived from the chemical formula of the explosive because do you want to use that long string of syllables every time?
Language to refer to technology should:
Factor 2 – Usefulness
Language to refer to things will vary with the situation. It’s all well and good to go looking for a Hyperflux Restablizing Neutronium Balance Capacitor, but sometimes you just need to “find the damn capacitor.” you don’t want to refer to a spell as a “Gate Spell” during your final magi exam when there’s 22 different variants of it.
We use different language for technology depending on the situation. All technology has should have ways to be referred to based on the situation itself. You really don’t have time to ask for “Mordaks Third Level Incandescent Sphere of Fiery Doom” when you really want to yell “Fireball them!” as you run away from Rabid kobolds.
Language to refer to technology should:
Factor 3 – Person
Technical terminology used – used to communicate with people – will vary among the people talking. An engineer, a scientist, and a disgruntled user are going to refer to computer parts and processes in very different ways. A wizard, a priest, and a warrior may refer to spellcraft differently.
There will thus be different words used by people in a group, among people in a group, and between groups. These can be as varied as any other set of words – because people are varied.
Consider the possible influences:
Individual characters will often have different tastes in how they refer to technology. You need to understand how the people in your setting see the different technologies and refer to them. When their discussion can sound like the last time you and a friend tried to set up a video game set or fix a car, then you’ve made technological language realistic.
Language to refer to technology should:
Terminology changes. Grab one of the handy slang dictionaries available at bookstores or online, and you may be amazed what words used to mean and what phrases vanished. “Hilary” used to be a man’s name. The term “mook” has had a variety of meanings. Even as you read these now, these simple references may have changed.
In creating terms in your stories, ask yourself how terms may have changed over time – or be preserved. A tradition-bound culture may use archaic references, a culture with a lot of immigration may adapt a rainbow of foreign words quickly. THis happens to technology as well – do we refer to cars as motorcars anymore in america?
A quick guide to see how time affects technical terms:
Language to refer to technology should:
Technical terminology shouldn’t be obscure unless there’s a good reason for that. It’s part of language, part of the language of your setting, and thus should serve the needs of those using that language. When you keep the human (well, sentient) factor in mind, it becomes very clear why Technobabble fails.
Technobabble fails because it’s unrealistic and doesn’t fit the characters and world. It’s when you reach in from outside and inflict language on your setting.
Instead, let the language come from your setting. It’s much more realistic.
Respectfully,
– Steven Savage
http://www.musehack.com/
http://www.informotron.com/
http://www.seventhsanctum.com/
Hey gang, hope everyone’s doing good!
Our latest big news, is that after my last Way With Worlds, Blaze over at Trilobyte Studios decided to do a MB effort to define language for worldbuilding! Looking forward to seeing how this goes.
Respectfully,
– Steven Savage
http://www.musehack.com/
http://www.informotron.com/
http://www.seventhsanctum.com/
(Way With Worlds is a weekly column on the art of worldbuilding published at Seventh Sanctum, Muse Hack, and Ongoing Worlds)
Over at Trilobyte Studios, my friend Blaze read my columns on races, and had some interesting insights – and some disagreements with me.
Though explores concepts of sentient versus sapient species and proper definition, one thing that stood out for me is that he argues about my thesis that “we might as well use race and species interchangeably since many people do.” He felt that was improper.
It’s not hard to see why. Not only is it improper, Blaze actually has had to explain English to non-English speakers (never an easy job with English) and is aware of the need of clarity. Though we both deal in language, we clearly approach it differently and I wanted to explore that issue as it relates to world building
I argued it was best to surrender to the overwhelming language issue and lump it. Blaze argues that we should not, and makes a case for proper language usage. I myself, after reading his entries, think he has a point – indeed, those of us doing and teaching worldbuilding should consider proper language. How else do we communicate?
My take, however, is that for the purpose of my work, that I surrender to the improper terminology and do my best to qualify it. It broadens and makes my work more relevant and perhaps avoid nit-picking. I’m not there to try and rectify language, I’m about technique.
However, maybe I should be. After all if I’m going to write on worldbuilding perhaps I should make a stand for proper language. Besides, improper language normally drives me up a wall.
Oh, I don’t have an answer to this. Sorry. In fact I don’t expect to have an answer until I bundle up and re-edit these essays into a book. By then maybe I’ll have an idea of if I want to work on changing language. Or maybe not.
But I’m glad that someone talked about it.
Language is extremely important when discussing worldbuilding. Yes, that’s partially a big duh – but Blaze made me think about how important it is to have standards in language. Casual terminology and such might not be the right words to discuss this.
Consider all the challenges facing worldbuilders when it comes to even talking about the craft:
It almost makes you amazed anyone can craft a coherent setting – yet we do. Many of us build unforgettable vistas that are just behind our eyes or pixels on a screen. And yet at its core is language.
Thus I think we worldbuilders should take the time to weigh our language carefully. What words do we use? What is appropriate? What is not appropriate/ What communicates best?
We might not even agree on everything, but we can at least hone our knowledge, our vocabulary, and our use of words to make sure we’re using them right.
In fact, this leads me to a most interesting question – one that has no answer yet – but one we should consider .. .
Blaze made me wonder if perhaps we worldbuilders should take some effort, be it debate or book or web page, to come up with a kind of “language guide” to worldbuilding. SOmething that worldbuilders could pick up and get the best idea of how to use words, communicate, and employ language in creation, documentation,and communication of our world.
Just consider this:
Maybe we worldbuilders should take a stab at finding a way to codify our passion with useful terminology.
We might even invent some new, needed words.
So I leave this open to you, dear reader. What do you think? Should we worldbuilders work to hone our language and terminology a bit more? Could we?
I don’t have an answer. But maybe some of us can together . . .
Respectfully,
– Steven Savage
http://www.musehack.com/
http://www.informotron.com/
http://www.seventhsanctum.com/
And my first generator in awhile is up – the Undead Generator! I wanted something to jumpstart me a bit, and then I saw a review for the game Cave Evil, which has an amazing “death metal” design and plenty of undead. That made me think about the various undead in other games and their unique natures compared to garden-variety monsters. I got inspired to make an undead generator and make monsters a bit more metal . . . and disgusting and rotting.
So you can get monsters like:
I consider this a first release – it probably needs a bit of tweaking from feedback (some of the elaborate names seem overly elaborate). Overall I’m quite pleased, because it’s “on” quite a bit – and when it’s on, it’s really on (Hellish Festering Lasher is an extremely ‘metal’ monster name.)
What was interesting with this generator is that it was reminiscent of others I’ve done. “Themed” generators often have a mix of words that fit the theme and that are general. Thus you could have a Rotten Shambler (suggesting undeadness) but a Rock Shambler has no “undeadness” – but a “Rock Ghast” does sound udead. So getting this to work was a case of mixing words that suggest undeadness and general words to suggest creatures and beings.
OK folks, go to it, and let me know what you think!
Respectfully,
– Steven Savage
http://www.musehack.com/
http://www.informotron.com/
http://www.seventhsanctum.com/
Over at Crossroads Alpha, the gang has started doing a regular podcast. It’s a “deep dive” on various subjects. In this case the first episode is about Auterism and Individual Vision. I’m biased, but I was pretty happy with the depth of conversation, from Wendy And Richard Pini to great Japanese Directors, to David Lynch.
First go on over and get it at iTunes!
You can find us at Talkshoe!
There’s also an RSS feed!
Respectfully,
– Steven Savage
http://www.musehack.com/
http://www.informotron.com/
http://www.seventhsanctum.com/