claudeb: A white cat in purple wizard robe and hat, carrying a staff with a pawprint symbol. (Default)

Over on the RPG.net forums, there's a thread asking why wizards are so rare in D&D. Of course, as pointed out in the OP, the real reason is extradiegetic (out-of-character in plain English): to keep the setting from turning from faux-medieval into something quite different. But it's fun to consider in-world explanations as well, and plenty of people have pointed out some obvious, plausible reasons.

But my favorite one is by analogy with the real world, and it's so simple: why isn't everyone a programmer on Earth, in 2021? We all use computers all the time by necessity. The required knowledge and tools are free and easy to get by. It doesn't take riches, or a lot of time (though kids get started more easily), and even someone without much inclination can reach surprising levels of skill quickly enough. Yet programmers are very rare, and always in high demand. Why?

Whatever the reason, that's likely why wizards are rare in the Forgotten Realms, too. Or in my pet setting, for that matter.

(Note: we're not talking those settings where wizards are the special envoys of divinity, like Middle Earth, or need a genetic mutation like Harry Potter.)

Conversely, that begs the question of why wizards are so damn common in the Earthsea cycle, where most people know the basics well enough for practical use.

Sadly, the answer is education. We could be living in a world where writing simple scripts is a matter of basic (ha!) literacy. We actually started building that world back in the 80s. Then computing was hijacked by people who wanted these wondrous machines to be appliances, to make most of us dependent on them for software. And so they made programming into this mysterious dark art that only a few "chosen" can master, and even then only at the cost of their sanity.

Spoiler: that was all propaganda. Magic was in us all along.

claudeb: A white cat in purple wizard robe and hat, carrying a staff with a pawprint symbol. (Default)

At the top of my reading page as of this writing is a very nice post about worldbuilding blunders in Harry Potter. By pure coincidence, these days I'm writing my first substantial piece of fiction in two years, which is way too long. And the story takes place in a brand new setting, because I couldn't make it easy on myself. Where's the fun in that?

Moreover, my modus operandi is to make it up on the go, according to the needs of the story (for reasons I explained repeatedly in the past, but briefly: Tolkien was a goddamn genius, and his insistence on building the world first still almost doomed LOTR; you're not nearly as smart, or a tenured college professor). Lacking both the skills and the inclination to do the math on everything, it would be easy for me to mess up just as badly.

The trick? Be humble! As a writer, anyway. Don't pretend you know everything about the world you're building. Who died and made you an all-knowing deity? Your characters are people, so look through their eyes. There's always going to be more of everything, just past the horizon. Leave room for it. Where else will they find mystery and adventure? Read more... )

claudeb: A white cat in purple wizard robe and hat, carrying a staff with a pawprint symbol. (Default)

While going through my old browser bookmarks, I found a write-up on worldbuilding from many years ago. It's a very detailed checklist, reason enough to keep it around for all this time; but as it turns out, the advice contained within has aged badly.

At first I wanted to write a critique of the original text, but there's too much negativity in this world already, and after so much time, what's the point? So instead let me use it as the jumping point for some fresh, up to date thoughts.

(By the way, while the original is about tabletop games, most of the same techniques apply just as well to static fiction.)

First of all, conflict is an unfortunate reality, that occurs when individuals and factions with opposing goals meet. In real life, we do our best to avoid it, because it only ever brings waste and suffering. It doesn't "spice things up", it makes everything bitter. Treat conflict the same way in fiction, out of respect for all the people who are hurting somewhere right now.

For that matter, dare to imagine a world where people are tolerant of their respective differences. We need that kind of vision. And forget realism. The genre is called fantasy. If you can more easily imagine flying mountains than tolerant people, have a mirror.

Second, too many adjectives cheapen the text. Luckily, you need fewer than you might think. Consider:

The ocean stretched in front of the travelers, all the way to a horizon shrouded in haze.

Look, ma, no adjectives! Yet it could be an epic opening line for a story.

That said, don't avoid adjectives either, like other writers wrongly recommend. Just one, well-placed, can change your text dramatically. Contrast:

The ocean stretched in front of the travelers, all the way to a horizon lined with dark clouds.

This is why I love the craft of writing. Long fancy words matter much less. Read more... )

claudeb: A white cat in purple wizard robe and hat, carrying a staff with a pawprint symbol. (Default)

A recent tweet reminded me of this famous adage by J.R.R. Tolkien:

"I wisely started with a map, and made the story fit."

Only... that wasn't wise. Tolkien toiled for 12 years on Lord of the Rings. He struggled with it and almost gave up many times. His job suffered badly due to burnout from working on the book. I wouldn't be surprised if the only reason why he didn't give up was fear of the merciless teasing he would have gotten from his good friend C.S. Lewis of Narnia fame.

That's my headcanon, anyway. Fact is, even great men can be wrong. Or, as a friend quickly pointed out, a genius is often the wrong person to learn from. They have extraordinary ability levels, you see. That's why we call them geniuses. Try doing things the hard way like they did, you're much more likely to fall flat on your face, and not even know why so you can learn from the failure.

I tried, you know. Tried doing just what Tolkien advised. It only wasted my creative drive for years.

My first sci-fi setting started out with a (galactic) map, and a grand history of the future. I carefully placed there a variety of worlds, where all kinds of different stories could happen. The technology and politics, too, were designed with purpose.

Can you guess how many stories fell out of it? Read more... )

claudeb: A white cat in purple wizard robe and hat, carrying a staff with a pawprint symbol. (Default)

You know how in the Middle Ages defenders of a sieged castle supposedly poured boiling oil on the attackers to drive them back?

You know how historians are pretty sure that's a myth?

A lot of people still don't seem to know, especially in tabletop gaming, so let me give you a few reasons why historians are probably right:

  1. Until well into the Industrial Revolution, (lamp) oil was expensive. You couldn't afford to waste it like that, assuming you could even get a cauldron's worth of the stuff in one place.
  2. Firewood is a lot of work to gather, too. You can't do that work while your castle is under siege, either, and you need the fuel for other things. Doubly so as...
  3. ...Oil has enormous thermal inertia. You'd need a whole lot of wood to make it boil or almost, not to mention a lot of time. The battle may well be over by the time you can get your cauldron ready.
  4. Even if you can get it ready in advance, or the battle is long, that stuff would be incredibly dangerous to handle. The crew is more likely to die horribly in an accident than pour it on the enemy.
  5. Assuming they manage to safely get the cauldron to a murder hole, the people below are equally likely to be their own side, especially if the battle has made it inside the gatehouse by that point.

Last but not least, how many attackers are you going to get by splashing down the content of a, say, 20-liter cauldron? Fine, 40 liters. 80. A barrel. You could have spent all that time shooting hundreds of arrows instead. Flaming arrows. While using a lot less wood and oil. No. Just no.

Wait. How about water then? Maybe it was hot water they poured down instead?

Admittely, that makes marginally more sense. But just barely:

  1. Water is a lot easier to get ahold of than oil. But fresh water is still precious in a castle under siege. Still no.
  2. Water takes a lot less fuel and time to heat up, and can still cause crippling damage even before it nears the boiling point. It's still not enough of a difference to make it practical.
  3. You'd have to painstakingly carry it by the bucket first out of the well, somewhere below the castle, then up the ramparts. Among fighters engaged in a pitched battle, and other hazards. That's a long way at the best of times.

All right, wise guy. What would you give the rearguard of a castle to help out with the fight?

First of all, people in the rearguard would have their hands full in support roles, such as passing arrows and bandaging the wounded. That said, rocks. Rocks are readily found, don't take much space, and can easily crack heads when thrown by hand, let alone with a sling. Something a lot of people in the Middle Ages learned how to use, because it took relatively little training and had many applications, while being cheap and quick to make.

Speaking of which, you do know that medieval weapons were in fact pretty damn slow and expensive to make, right? But that's a story for another time.

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claudeb: A white cat in purple wizard robe and hat, carrying a staff with a pawprint symbol. (Default)
Claude LeChat

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