Check this bellend who doesnae ken that Scots, and indeed all “improper” dialects an accents ay English, arenae incompatible wi intelligence oar eloquence ay expression
(I mean, the original post insnae exactly the most poetic ay thoughts, but neither’s fuckin off tae bed wioot gien yer mate a cover, whit the fuck’s wrang wi you, were you raised in a fuckin shed)
I guess but also a lot of this stuff seems really boring to actually put in your worldbuilding. Like, maybe figure it out and consider it as a supplemental, but sometimes a handwave is all you really need.
World building /=/ story writing. Only one of them makes for an interesting read when it’s all laid out on paper.
Handwaving is fine. Covering things briefly is fine. Making some assumptions is fine. Taking into consideration all of these aspects to make a more realistic in-world economy and system is great, but actually inserting every minute detail into the story takes away from the actual plot.
Balance is key.
I hate this thread because who the fuck cares who domesticated the fucking wheat in a novel about dragons burning a whole continent to ash, really. History buffas and Medievalists are some of the most insufferable when it comes to critiquing SFF literature.
The point of specfic is not to be realistic. Go read literary fiction if you’re hung up on where horses fucking come from.
However, I also feel like a lot of this is overblown reacting for the purpose of pointing out how a lot of historical and Medieval-inspired fantasy reads as the same because no one actually thoroughly researches the things that would exist in the analogous time period they’re painting.
Then there’s that whole thing of if any of these details are particularly necessary to the story.
I’d agree, and I’d also defend this in another way. If you’re not doing the research to twig into some of what the guy was tweeting about, you’re missing interesting ways to not just add details, but to build story and plot. The king not worrying about duke consolidating power for instance, if a person dived into that they’d have some great subplots that would add tension and intrigue. Maybe the beer-making or horse-breeding questions would lead to some neat cultural stuff that would distinguish the novel from every medieval-inspired novel.
Agree with all my mutuals, and would push Dawn’s point that you could soooo definitely find a cool-ass story to tell from diving into a piece of mundane or background world building.
“Where does the food come from” is the most important part of worldbuilding, imo. You don’t need to have it plotted down to which field grows what kind of potato, but you do need the broad strokes, and sometimes that does require research.
It’s also important to note what is being excused for the sake of “historical accuracy” (sexism, modern homophobia, inaccurate ideas about the stability of kings, modern atheism) and what is being waved aside for the sake of a “fictional story” (everyone has great teeth, nobody has diseases, farming is something that just happens offscreen, there is no “complicated” middle class merchant stuff happening.) Things like rape and general brutality are excused in fantasy novels for “historical accuracy,” however things like dysentery and bad teeth are not.
Of course a book that covers in detail farming and horse breeding and the soil content isn’t what anyone wants (ok I’m sure someone out there does but like, general audiences don’t.) However, a worldbuilding endeavor that decides to make everyone white, straight, and sexist, with good teeth in a medieval setting … is making a lot of deliberate choices in their worldbuilding. And we should be critical and aware of that.
Here are some actual excepts from a talk Terry Pratchett gave on how to build a fantasy world:
Terry opened the discussion on mapping your created SF/fantasy domain with the unforgettable statement: “How does the shit get out, and the clean water get in?”
Your characters have got to drink, eat, and shift by-products, so the design of Ankh-Morpork, on the Discworld, starts with the river (and what a river – that’s a lot of by-products, which it would be, for a heaving great city). Would a city on top of a mountain work, or would only a small village last in those conditions? How would a city in the clouds function, in plumbing terms? Your readers will want to know these things, and if there aren’t any satisfactory answers, you and your readers are both missing out.
A community functions on the basis of sanitation services, and provisions of food and water. Say, for example, you have a nomadic tribe living on a desert moon, who raise herds of giant herbivorous quadruped working-animals the size of double-decker buses. What are these herds of great land-creatures eating? Sand? Air? Where is their poop going? How are they kept from wandering off at night and trampling their biped masters in their sleep? How is the animal husbandry and midwifery managed? Enquiring minds will want to know.
Terry took a question from one of the younger audience members[…] “What advice would you give to anyone wanting to be a science fiction or fantasy author?”
Terry’s thoughts on this were strong.
“Don’t read too many books already published in your chosen genre. You don’t want to be writing imitations of what’s already out there. Read geography. Read history books. Read about science.”
…Research how worlds function, what shapes them, geologically and politically. How they progress through technology and learning, arts and culture.
Look at this: one of the most prolific and celebrated fantasy authors in the world is arguing, consistently, that good historical, political and geographic planning are central to building a solid fantasy world. Omitting these details often seems to be a cheap easy tactic to bring in current cultural biases such as sexism and racism, without ever having to address them critically or even question their role in our culture.
Remember: you don’t need to explicitly state many of these points, or draw a lot of attention to them. If you’ve done the research, it’ll show in little “throwaway” descriptive lines for the most part. (Unless it becomes a major plot point.)
So my daughter earned a reputation today among the Haunted Forest funhouse workers at the Renaissance Faire. She’s two, by the way.
While my wife rested on a bench, I took my little girl towards the mock-up wooden castle with the skeletons perched all over it. The entrance attendant who took my money at the gate eyed my toddler in her Rapunzel outfit and gave me a side-eye. Her look said plainly, “If you want to pay $6 to have her run screaming after the first ten feet, it’s your dime.”
Immediately past the ticket station, my daughter realizes she’s surrounding by skeletons and immediately laughs and points. “Skeleton! Look, Daddy, skeleton! Oh, there skeleton too!” Her grin could swallow the world. “SKELETON!”
The gate attendants look at each other in confusion. These people don’t realize they’re dealing with a girl who, earlier in the day, ran up to a woman wearing a fox tail because my little Kiddo thought she’d found a werewolf.
See, my daughter refuses to go in car rides without her dollar store glow-in-the-dark skeletons to play with. She hugs the monsters in pop-up books. She howls during Werewolves of London. She can name every Universal Monster and distinguish a gug from a shoggoth.
The maze is unprepared for her.
A few feet inside, I see a a hooded skeleton peer at us from around a corner. He’s confused. After all, this schmuck has brought a ibby bibby girl into his forest, and he has no idea what kind of experience I’m expecting him to give.
My daughter waves at the reaper. “Hello skeleton! Come!”
He slowly comes out. She and the ghoul make friendly small talk until she notices a zombie horse and runs off after “skeleton horsey!” This level of enthusiasm generally continues.
A skeleton tied to a stake belches smoke. She laughs.
A coffin shakes, hands straining to force open the lid. “Hi, ‘pire!”
My daughter has found dark Disneyland, and she loves it. Well, the part where a blast of air shoot you in the butt? That she can deal without, but the monsters make her day.
We approach the curtained door of a structure, and before I can think about whether I should risk entering the room three grown women push it aside and rush out of the dark. “It’s too scary!” One whispers to me as they pass, bolting for the entrance.
My 2-year-old walks in and tries to make friends with the monsters.
Finally we reach the exit. Standing at attention is a skeleton knight with bulging bloodshot eyeballs. The Kiddo is so damn excited to see him, she smiles and waves at him for a full minute.
Then I tell her we have to go.
She starts crying.
Walking past later a few minutes later, I see the grim reaper talking to the attendants. He spots us, and Death himself points at my daughter. “Look, it’s that little girl!”
They loved her.
He lets us get a picture of her holding the scythe.
@seananmcguire I thought perhaps you might appreciate this
This is a description for a calendar but I like it bc it makes it sound like Mario is gonna give me the emotional and financial support I need to get my life together in 2018.
The bros is here for you
reblog stability mario to have your shit together in 2018
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