Chapter 2 – Literature Review: World-building

Gareth Wild Student ID: 12242097 Visual World-Building: Developing a Conceptual Framework for Concept Design in Fantasy Role Playing Games. Version: 08_Last edit: 20 February 2016 Literature Review Chapter 2 – World-building _____________________________________________________________________________ Contents 2.1 The Evolution of a World-Building Theory .............................................................................2 2.2 Defining the Imaginary World ................................................................................................4 2.3 Subcategories of Imaginary Worlds ........................................................................................6 2.4 Approaches to World-building ...............................................................................................9 2.4.1 Primary Considerations and Fundamental Methods of World-building ........................10 2.4.2 Altering Primary World Defaults: Invention and Secondariness ....................................12 2.4.3 Comprehensive Plausibility: Completeness and Allusion ..............................................15 2.4.4 Consistent Plausibility: Maintaining Secondary Belief ...................................................18 2.5 Conclusion ............................................................................................................................21 References .............................................................................................................................22 1 2.1 The Evolution of a World-Building Theory The emergence of new technologies, particularly in the videogames industry, has led to a dramatic rise in the complexity of imaginary worlds in videogames (Suichies, 2013; Wolf, 2012). Game studios are increasingly developing complex worlds and setting their games within these worlds (Ashcraft, B, 2015; Crecente, 2015; Zacny, 2014). As world-building increases in popularity in the conceptual development stages of videogame production, it becomes clear that a method of building imaginary worlds outfitted specifically to concept artists and designers will be beneficial. Additionally, smaller studios that are inexperienced in dealing with large and complex imaginary worlds will find the aforementioned method of particular interest, subsequently allowing them to avoiding circumstances that require outsourcing to larger companies (Zacny, 2014). The habit of world-building itself begins in early childhood and often continues into adulthood. The process of world-building is believed to be instinctive, while some psychologists suggest that it may serve an evolutionary purpose (Wolf, 2012; Holland, 2009). Further, it can be argued that the study of world-building, and imaginary worlds, is a necessary endeavour as both the visiting and creation of imaginary worlds is not only common and popular, but also likely to remain so (Wolf, 2012). The earliest experience of creating and exploring imaginary worlds often occurs in childhood play. Children create their own fictional universes – labelled “paracosms” by psychologists in the field – to house their games of make-believe (Root-Bernstein, 2009 & 20013; Wolf, 2012). This activity is often extended throughout adolescence with an engagement with toys, board games, and video games, where play is removed even further from direct experience. This engagement is frequently continued throughout adulthood, and extended with the enjoyment of novels and other interrelated media (Wolf, 2012). The relationship between early childhood world-building and creative success in adulthood is well documented (Wolf, 2012; RootBernstein, 2009 & 2013). Well-known authors such as C. S. Lewis are prime examples, as they not only created “paracosms” in their childhood, but also continued this activity in their adult life. The study of imaginary worlds and their creation is itself not a new field of study, however it is only in recent history that a dedicated field of inquiry has emerged (Wolf, 2012). Authors such as J. R. R. Tolkien (1947), Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1969), and Lin Carter (1973), discussed and theorized this subject. However, the written word remained largely as the sole medium of discussion, often overlooking the possibilities of other mediums to visually build imaginary worlds in ways not possible in a solely written format. The philosophy of possible worlds began to appear after 1960, with theorists such as Nelson Goodman (1978), Thomas Pavel (1986), and Lubomir Dolezel (1998) discussing the ontological positions of fictional worlds, with Dolezel bridging the topic into literary studies (Wolf, 2012). Although possible worlds theory offers insight into imaginary worlds, the field of study is “more concerned with status and modes of being than with experience and design” (Wolf, 2012 p.19). Wolf states: Philosophical writings on fictional worlds consider mainly questions of language, with most of their examples taken from literature, thereby neglecting imaginary worlds that are audiovisual in nature; Media Studies, then, must pick up where they have left off. (p.7) 2 Media Studies are, however, “drawing ever closer to the world as an object of study” (Wolf, 2012 p7), and are beginning to offer scholars the tools to study imaginary worlds in their entirety, irrespective of the medium in which the worlds are experienced. Media franchises, “supersystems” 1 and “hyperserials” 2 are notable examples of the field of study moving towards a more focused study of world-building, however neither of these focus solely on the imaginary world. Supersystems, while acknowledging the possibility of imaginary worlds to exist in various media, are solely concerned with characters, as opposed to the worlds themselves (Kinder, 1991; Wolf, 2012). Hypererials, however, offer a prediction of what is now known as transmedia storytelling (Murray, 1997; Wolf, 2012). Henry Jenkins (2006) coined the term transmedia storytelling, defined as the “distribution of stories over and across a variety of media” (Wolf, 2012 p.9). Transmedia stories rely on a rich, highly detailed world, and therefore the world must be central to their development (Jenkins, 2006; 2007; Wolf, 2012). Although the field of Media Studies is slowly converging towards the study of imaginary worlds, it is still “an area largely overlooked” (Wolf, 2012 p.2) and currently lacks focus. Imaginary worlds are often viewed as secondary elements – merely a setting in which either the narrative takes place (as is often the case in literature studies, or narratology), or within which ludological elements can be implemented (which is commonplace in games studies). Outside of Media Studies, imaginary worlds are often studied indirectly, and for the purposes of studying other phenomena. For example, Mike Moleworth (2006) looks at imaginary worlds only as a potential means to further brand placement. Similarly, Nick Yee et al. (2011) look at the virtual world 3 of World of Warcraft (Blizzard Entertainment, 2004) as a means to evaluate player personality traits. A substantial reason for this is that transmedial imaginary worlds are often tremendous in scale, and subsequently more difficult to “encapsulate in a description or analysis than a particular story, character, or situation” (Wolf, 2012 p.2). Additionally, imaginary worlds are regularly overlooked as they are built upon and expanded regularly, making analysis more difficult for the scholar. (Wolf, 2012) The introduction of transmedia storytelling was a catalyst in the field of Media Studies, with many scholars now realising the importance of imaginary worlds in various disciplines (Wolf, 2012). Although this importance is largely understood, a world-centred method of analysis is still in its infancy, and the field itself still lacks focus. Considering both the scope of imaginary worlds, the rate at which the videogame industry is growing (ESA, 2015), and the industry’s increasing reliance on world-building, a more focused, industry-centric approach to worldbuilding is needed. Furthermore, if such an approach is built upon the consideration of imaginary worlds in their entirety, the relationship between the visual development of videogames and world-building theory can be maintained. Essentially, this will not only further unify the study of imaginary worlds as a field of study, but also ensures that industry specific needs are being met. 1 Marsha Kinder defines a supersystem as “a network of intertextuality constructed around a figure or group of figures from pop culture who are either fictional… or real” (1991 p.122-123). 2 Mark Wolf defines Janet Murray’s term “hyperserial” as a nonlinear, continuing story that has the possibility of existing in multiple media (2012). 3 A virtual world is understood to be type of imaginary world that exists online, particularly as a component of a video game. It exists irrespective of its users, who can interact with each other and the world itself, and objects within it. (Wolf, 2012) 3 2.2 Defining the Imaginary World In order to gain an understanding of world-building in the context of videogames, an understanding of imaginary worlds must first be reached. As discussed previously, although media studies are slowly converging into a unified study of imaginary worlds, a discipline of studying imaginary worlds themselves is still in its infancy. Mark Wolf is a pioneer in this area, offering the most relevant and focused material on the subject to date. His seminal book Building Imaginary Worlds: The Theory and History of Subcreation (2012) is the first of its kind, and offers an encompassing overview of imaginary worlds across different media. It is in this regard that his work is primarily responsible for informing this chapter. Imaginary Worlds are defined by Wolf (2012) as an amalgamation of all the environments experienced by a fictional character, or could be experienced by a fictional character in a work of fiction. These environments unify to create a sense of place which is “ontologically different from the actual, experiential realm” (p.337). Imaginary worlds are varied in scale and exist irrespective of not only media, but also narrative, with many imaginary worlds existing in transmedial, transnarritive, and/or transauthorial states 4 (Dolezel, 2000; Wolf, 2012). The current understanding of what constitutes an imaginary world has been developed largely from the work of J. R. R. Tolkien and Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Wolf, 2012). Coleridge, in a lecture on imagination, argued against the dominant thought of the time: that imagination was a simple recollection of sensory data (Coleridge, 1969; Wolf, 2012). Coleridge’s assertion was that there are two distinct forms of the imagination: the Primary Imagination, and the Secondary Imagination. The Primary Imagination acts “unconsciously, as we conceptualize the world around us and our place in it”, while the Secondary Imagination “is conscious and deliberate…as a creative act” (Wolf, 2012 p.22). The conception of two separate systems of imagination was later extended by George MacDonald (1893), and Tolkien (1947). Furthering Coleridge’s idea of two distinct forms of imagination, Primary Imagination and Secondary Imagination, Tolkien argues that there are two distinct forms of Worlds – the Primary World, and secondary worlds. Although Coleridge asserts that story-makers possess the ability to create Literary Belief – “the willing suspension of disbelief” (Tolkien, 1947 p.52), this belief relies on consistent laws of reality within the created world (MacDonald, 1893; Tolkien, 1947; Wolf, 2012). Tolkien makes a leap from Coleridge and MacDonald, in that he avoids “philosophical pitfalls encountered with other terms like “reality” and “fantasy”” (Wolf, 2012 p.23), by asserting that these worlds are secondary worlds and exist within the “real” or Primary World. Tolkien’s naming convention is built upon Coleridge’s notion of Primary and Secondary Imagination, and is used only to make a distinction between imaginary worlds and the Primary world (Coleridge, 1969; Tolkien, 1947; Wolf, 2012). It is in this regard that the terms imaginary world and secondary world are largely interchangeable. This process of creating imaginary worlds within the Primary World is inherently limited in that creators can only reference what exists in the Primary World. Therefore, story-makers make 4 Transmedial, transnarrative, and transauthorial imaginary worlds are described by Mark Wolf (2012) as imaginary worlds that exist across various media, include separate narrative strands, and offer separate narratives written by multiple authors respectively. 4 imaginary worlds by referencing the Primary World, and when the inner reality is complete and consistent, Secondary Belief, as opposed to the willing suspension of disbelief, is engaged (Tolkien, 1947; Wolf, 2012). To create an imaginary world, then, implies that the creator’s intention is to create belief in that world, and by extension relates directly to creators who do so “for reasons beyond that of merely providing a backdrop to a story” (Wolf, 2012 p.24). The creation of an imaginary world is to create a new world within the Primary World for the purpose of engaging Secondary Belief. Tolkien calls this process Subcreation 5 (Tolkien, 1947). The term Subcreation means to “create under”, referring to the inability of the creator to create from nothing, but instead relying on Primary World references (Wolf, 2012). Wolf states: Subcreation, then, involves new combinations of existing concepts, which, in the building of a secondary world, become the inventions that replace or reset Primary World defaults… The more one changes these defaults, the more the secondary world becomes different and distinct form the Primary World. (Wolf, 2012 p.24) If an imaginary world is a collection of elements that both conform to, and deviate from Primary World defaults, then the degree of secondariness 6 a world exhibits relies solely on the degree of these deviations. These elements may include, but are not limited to: events, culture, and natural and social environments. Considering the degree in variation between Primary World defaults, a secondary world becomes experiential rather than geographical. Further, it is possible for Primary World settings to include deviations from Primary World defaults and still be considered Primary in essence. With this in mind, the introduction of further qualifiers allows a more concrete distinction of what constitutes an imaginary world (Wolf, 2012). In addition to deviations from Primary World defaults, an imaginary world should also have “a distinct border partitioning it from the Primary World” (Wolf, 2012 p.25). A border not only separates the imaginary world from the Primary World absolutely, but also heightens secondary belief due to a perceived remoteness. The border separating the imaginary world from the Primary World may be geographical or temporal – Uchronias 7 such as the Hyborean Age in Robert E. Howard’s Conan series are a prime example of secondary worlds separated by a temporal border (Wolf, 2012). An imaginary world, however, should also be measured by the degree to which it has been developed. Certain imaginary worlds which exist within the Primary World, and which also contain small alterations to Primary world defaults, can still be considered secondary as their fictional elements have been developed to such an extent that they become believable – for 5 Tolkien’s term Subcreation is largely interchangeable with world-building. The “sub” prefix is used to emphasise the creation process by means of remixing existing concepts found in the Primary World. (Wolf, 2012) 6 Secondariness is a term used by Wolf (2012) to describe the degree to which an imaginary world deviates from the Primary Wolrd – essentially this refers to the level of invention, or subcreation, employed by the world-builder, a topic which will be discussed later in this chapter. 7 A uchronia is understood to be an unspecified or fictional period of time, more commonly in the far distant past, or far distant future (Renouvier, 1876; Wolf, 2012). This is discussed further in a later section. 5 example, the imaginary world has been mapped, multiple stories have been set in the location, and/or characters and locations are well developed. Such worlds may be considered imaginary, however their degree of secondariness is limited. It is therefore necessary to view secondary worlds “along a spectrum of attachment to, or reliance on, the Primary World… and its defaults” (Wolf, 2012 p.27). Measuring a world’s secondariness along Wolf’s spectrum would have secondary worlds closest to the Primary World lie at one end, while secondary worlds furthest away from the Primary World, and which subsequently involve the highest degree of subcreation, lie on the other end (visualised by the author in Figure 1). Although useful, the linear nature of Wolf’s spectrum leaves room for further clarification by scholars in the field, as the parameters determining where an imaginary world should be placed are not immediately clear. A system to determine the degree of secondariness of an imaginary world is yet to be developed. Figure 1. Wolf's spectrum of secondariness as visualised by the author. 2.3 Subcategories of Imaginary Worlds Beyond determining the secondariness of an imaginary world, various subcategories of imaginary worlds have been offered by both scholars and industry professionals. As previously stated, an imaginary world’s secondariness is determined by both its degree of subcreation and also its independence from the Primary World (Wolf, 2012). Imaginary worlds can be placed within a spectrum of secondariness, however the determination of where an imaginary world is situated within the spectrum remains fairly vague. Beyond Wolf’s spectrum, scholar’s and industry professionals have offered various systems of classification that aid the scholar in determining how secondary an imaginary world is, while also offering further clarification as to the particulars of that world. Beyond classifying imaginary worlds, scholars have also speculated as to why writers of speculative fiction create worlds that are unattached to the Primary World. Lin Carter (1973) argues that writing speculative fiction involves degrees of risk to the writer if their imaginary world is not sufficiently removed from the Primary World. Carter suggests that when the world-builder creates imaginary worlds closely aligned with Primary World history, or established myths and legends, the creative freedoms of the world-builder are severely limited. Carter states: 6 Borrowing an established world of myth or heroic legend for the setting of a new and original story, involves the author in historical and literary research which can sharply curtail and influence his own imaginative concept, since his new story should not violate any strictures of the original world-picture the writer is using. (Carter, 1973 p.178) Alternatively, Carter advises world-builders to create imaginary worlds that fall into one of four broad classifications: 1) the Primary World before recorded history, 2) the Primary World in the remote future, 3) a parallel world, or 4) a distinctly different/separate world. Although all four of Carter’s classifications are secondary in nature, varying degrees of subcreation can be observed throughout them (Figure 2). For example, classifications one and two rely heavily on established Primary World defaults for example: technology in pre-history, perceived technological advances based on current technology in the Primary World. Parallel worlds may vary from the Primary World, however ontological deviations are limited. Lastly, completely different worlds offer the greatest deviations from the Primary World as they may rely very little on established defaults. Considering the apparent correlations between ontological change, Primary World independence, and the freedom to employ subcreated elements, additional layers of classification are required to further these relationships. Figure 2. Carter's classifications of imaginary worlds and their degree of secondariness, as interpreted and visualised by the author. Wolfgang Baur (2012b) offers further classification by segregating imaginary worlds 8 into categories based on their relationship to the Primary World. Similarly to Wolf (2012), Baur separates these worlds based on the degree of variation to the Primary World each category exhibits. Baur (2012b) states that gamers who indulge in tabletop fantasy role-playing games frequently request “more realism or, at least, plausibility and verisimilitude” (p.25) in the imaginary worlds within which their games are situated. These imaginary worlds are distinct from other traditional variations and can be placed broadly into two general categories: 1) real worlds, which are generally based on historical fact, myths, or legends, and 2) pure fantasy 8 Although Baur (2012b) refers each category as settings, this is a term used to describe imaginary worlds in table-top fantasy role-playing games (Baur, 2012a). Additionally, these settings qualify as imaginary worlds when tested against Mark Wolf’s (2012) definition of imaginary world, along with his imaginary world spectrum of secondariness. 7 worlds, which are pure inventions or built upon a particular concept. These two categories can be divided further, offering two additional sub-categories in each division (Figure 3). Figure 3. Baur's categories and sub-categories of imaginary worlds as visualised by the author Real worlds are split into historical worlds, and real fantasy worlds. Historical worlds the least secondary of the four as they are set within the Primary World and founded on historical fact, historical settings, myths, and/or legends. Examples of historical worlds may include: worlds based on Arthurian Legend, or the aforementioned pre-historical worlds put forward by Carter (1974). Although additional subcreated elements may be introduced, they are comparatively minor and insignificant to the already established histories, myths, and legends upon which they were built. The second sub-category: real fantasy worlds are similar in their foundations in established histories, myths, and legends, however there is a much greater emphasis placed on subcreated elements employed by the world-builder. What separates real fantasy worlds from other imaginary worlds with high degrees of secondariness, is that they would not be understood without reference to pre-existing cultural defaults, for example: established myths or creatures of legend. While historical worlds suggest an altered history with minor/hidden elements of fantasy, Real Fantasy worlds suggest exaggerated versions of established tales (Baur, 2012b). Pure fantasy worlds are separated into anchored fantasy worlds and wild-eyed wahoo worlds. anchored fantasy worlds involve large degrees of subcreation, however the majority of subcreated elements are based largely on Primary World defaults. This ensures that anchored fantasy worlds remain plausible, despite the large degrees of subcreation (Baur, 2012b). Additionally, anchored fantasy worlds might include degrees of ontological variation – such as the inclusion of magic, or otherworldly beings, however these inclusions do not challenge the Primary World defaults upon which the world was built. An example of an anchored fantasy world would be Tolkien’s Middle Earth, as many of his subcreated elements reference Primary World defaults. For example, the similarities between Tolkien’s Rohirrim culture and the historic culture of Anglo-Saxons have been suitably illustrated (Honegger, 2011; Wolf, 2012). Conversely, although wild-eyed wahoo worlds also contain large degrees of subcreation, they are far removed from Primary World defaults. Such deviations often include large degrees of ontological variation – changes to the nature of reality and the way in which the world 8 functions. A classic example of this is Frank Baum’s Oz, wherein Alice, the protagonist, is subject to a multitude of reality bending experiences. Beyond real worlds and pure fantasy worlds are utopias, dystopias, and uchronias. Although popularised by Thomas More’s book Utopia (1516), utopias as a concept can be traced to antiquity (More, 1869; Wolf 2012). Utopias, as described by Wolf, are “an ideal community or society with a perfect form of governance” (p.382). Idealistic in nature, the term utopia is taken from the Greek to mean “no place”. Conversely, a dystopia can be described as an oppressive and terrible utopia (Wolf, 2012). Typically involving a voyage of to reach – be it planetary, inter-planetary, or similar – it can be argued that utopias and dystopias are typically separated from the Primary World by geographical borders (Grove, 1975; Wolf, 2012). Considering that utopias and dystopias involve high degrees of subjectivity – involving notions of ideal governance – it is important to understand that what might constitute a utopia to some visitors, might describe a dystopia to others. Further, utopian and dystopian imaginary worlds simply describe the society of the imaginary world’s inhabitants – the nature of the imaginary world itself exists irrespective to the nature of the imaginary world. For example, a utopia is as likely to be found within a real fantasy world as it is to be found within an anchored fantasy world. It is in this regard that world-builders should view the concept of utopian and dystopian societies as a flourish or lens through which they shape their imaginary society. Lastly, the term uchronia originates from Charles Renouvier’s novel Uchronie (1876). The term uchronia follows the naming convention of utopia and translates literally as “no time”, describing a fictional period of time within which a narrative takes place (Renouvier, 1876; Wolf, 2012). Similar to utopias and dystopias, uchroias are not tied to one particular category of imaginary world. Imaginary worlds set in the distant past and distant future can be classified as uchronias, so too can alternate histories. In summary, beyond simply determining the degree of secondariness exhibited by an imaginary world, scholars and industry professionals alike offer various imaginary world classifications. These classifications not only provide the scholar with a greater understanding of imaginary worlds, but also offer the world-builder a set of fundamental tools through which they can frame their creation. By understanding both the classification of an imaginary world, and also the degree of secondariness it exhibits, world-builders can begin to gain a higher understanding of the common frameworks used to construct similar imaginary worlds. Beyond this base understanding, however, it is beneficial for the world-builder to explore various techniques and strategies designed to maintain Secondary Belief. 2.4 Approaches to World-building As mentioned previously, the examination of imaginary worlds and their particulars, as a scholarly discipline, is a relatively new field of study. World-building strategies, along with analyses of their creator’s processes, are similarly recent areas of inquiry. Writers of speculative fiction have begun to compile various approaches and principles regarding the 9 internal logic that other writers have, and should, adhere to in order to maintain Secondary Belief. Literary studies offer various explorations, speculations, and investigations of Tolkien’s imaginary world in particular, focussing heavily on determining his sources. Although insightful, many of these inquiries are not designed in the first instance to aid the worldbuilder in the creation of imaginary worlds, but instead seek to establish how writers achieved their endeavours. Outside of speculative fiction, game makers – particularly those that make table-top roleplaying games – and enthusiasts have also contributed to this area, offering world-building methods catered specifically to their industry. It can be argued that most, if not all, of the strategies, approaches, and methods appear to share a common goal: maintaining Secondary Belief by ensuring that the imaginary world is not only interesting, but also that the internal logic of the imaginary world is sound. Approaches to world-building vary dramatically contingent on not only the type of imaginary world, but also the world’s intended method of visitation. For example, an imaginary world designed for a relatively small tabletop role-playing game – commonly referred to as setting design (Baur, 2012a) – would usually be designed differently to one that is to be used for transmedial purposes. Some imaginary worlds are evolved over time, while others may be designed in their entirety before they are used in any capacity. In videogames, it has become increasingly more common to design the imaginary world first, and subsequently set various franchise entries within the imaginary world (Ashcraft, 2015; Zacny, 2014). A clear example of this can be observed in how the videogame studio Ready At Dawn developed The Order: 1886 (2015). In an interview with Polygon, CEO and creative director Ru Weerasuriya revealed that they now build worlds “purely for the purpose of making more than one game” (Crecente, 2015). Considering the comparatively large budget required to create an imaginary world of this scope, it can be argued that developers would intentionally create multiple games set within the already established world can help to offset the cost. The following subsections explore the more comprehensive strategies designed to aid world-builders. The sources include both world-building scholars and industry professionals in order to provide balance between theory and practical application. 2.4.1 Primary Considerations and Fundamental Methods of Worldbuilding The first consideration a world-builder must make is whether the imaginary world will be small or large in scope. Additionally, it should be considered whether or not smaller imaginary worlds will grow over time, or conversely, if it will be beneficial to design the world as whole – adding more detail over time. Pramas (2012) defines these approaches as: Inside Out Design, and Outside In Design respectively. Inside Out Design is arguably the most practical approach for traditional role-playing games, as it simply involves the design of relatively small imaginary worlds. These particular worlds encompass only what is necessary to play the game – any other areas in the imaginary world 10 are not considered. As subsequent games are played, and new settings are required, the world-builder will design them, ensuring that they remain consistent to the previous areas. After a considerable amount of areas have been designed, the imaginary world in its entirety will begin to take shape. Pramas suggests however, that this approach often leads to inconsistencies as the imaginary worlds grow larger. Conversely, Outside In Design requires that the world-builder creates a plan for the imaginary world, inserting more detail and settings as the game requires it. This approach allows for greater consistency in the overall design as the initial plan will ensure, to some extent, that each setting adheres to a formal system of relationship. An exhaustive example of Outside-In Design can be seen in the methods put forward by Stephen Gillet in his book World-Building (1996). Although no information is given on the construction of societies or cultures, Gillet describes the particulars of creating entire planets for use in writing speculative fiction. Although Prama’s suggests that detail should only be added when necessary, Gillet stands as a strong example of just how far some world-builders will go to ensure that a logical baseline informs their creation. Outside In Design, although founded on the principle of adding detail only when needed, shares similarities to Topofocal approaches. Almost an extension of Outside-In Design, a topofocal approach to world-building describes a process in which the world-builder begins with the design of a map (Elkman, 2013; Roberts, 2012, Wolf, 2012). While maps can be understood as an important element of imaginary worlds, alluding to many elements not specifically exposed to the visitor, they can also be used to inform the creation of the imaginary world itself (Carter, 1973; Roberts, 2012; Wolf, 2012). Roberts (2102), a professional cartographer, presents a system wherein the world-builder begins the creation of the imaginary world with a careful construction of map. It is suggested that the world-builder should begin by designing the placement of countries and what key elements separate them, whether they be geological or political. Following this, Roberts suggests the design flow should follow: the inclusion of mountains, rivers, and finally regional climates. Following this pattern allows the world-builder to logically place cities, roads, and nations in the imaginary world while maintaining logical baselines, and subsequently maintaining Secondary Belief. Employing a topofocal approach to world-building may lead to the creation of a more logical imaginary world. It is important however, that further systems of relationship be utilized by the world-builder in order to ensure that the imaginary world remains consistent in its design (Carter, 1973; Wolf, 2012). These systems of relationship and their particulars will be examined later in this chapter. The Outside-In Design approach alongside a topofocal approach may extend the design into an almost encyclopaedic design. Designing an imaginary world in this way is not uncommon, with Tolkien’s Silmarillion (1977) serving as a strong example of what is commonly referred to as a world bible (Hungerford, 2012). Containing a detailed breakdown of Tolkien’s imaginary world, alongside details of various cultures, myths, and histories, it is important to note that the Silmarillion was used by Tolkien to maintain a level of consistency in his work (Wolf, 2012). While impressive, The Silmarillion was developed over the course of Tolkien’s life, with detail and corrections being added over time. The book, like many design bibles was a living design document and was not developed all at once (Hungerford, 2012, Tolkien, 1977; Wolf, 2012). It 11 is in this regard that it stands simply as a more complete and detailed variation of the OutsideIn Design approach, wherein the world-builder adds detail when necessary. The level of detail required by the world-builder when creating an imaginary world can vary dramatically. Arguably, this is dependent on not only the degree of secondariness they wish the world to exhibit, but also how consistent and complete the imaginary world needs to appear if secondary belief is to be maintained. The development of world-bibles is relatively commonplace in the games industry, with many individuals contributing to them regularly (Hungerford, 2012). Regardless of how convenient world-bibles are, many considerations and contemplations must still be addressed by world-builders. 2.4.2 Altering Primary World Defaults: Invention and Secondariness In order for a world-builder to maintain Secondary Belief in their imaginary world, a high degree of invention, completeness, and consistency is required (Wolf, 2012). Invention, the first of these elements, refers to the degree to which the imaginary world’s defaults deviate from the Primary World – essentially, invention determines how secondary an imaginary world appears. These deviations must be logical and not random if secondary belief is to be maintained (Baur, 2012a & 2012b; Carter, 1973; Tolkien, 1947; Stackpole, 2012; Wolf, 2012). Additionally, the more secondary a world becomes by altering Primary World defaults, the more difficult it will be for the world-builder to maintain this internal logic. Wolf (2012) categorises the elements of invention into four areas: nominal, cultural, natural, and ontological. Nominal change refers to the naming of new things, or to the simple renaming of existing things, and stands as the slightest deviation possible in an imaginary world (Carter, 1973; Wolf, 2012). However slight, a word-builder should consider the way in which they structure their new names and/or languages. Although the depth of Tolkien’s language creation in the The Lord of the Rings, or George R. R. Martin’s languages in his A Song of Fire and Ice series are impressive, it can be argued that a world-builder does not have to go to such lengths to create convincing names. A logical baseline, however, should be maintained. Lin Carter (1973) calls the process of creating new words neocognomina, and warns of several pitfalls a world-builder can fall into when creating new names. Neocognomina differs from conglang – a term commonly used to define a constructed language (Wolf, 2012), the particulars of which will be covered in a later section – in that it is far less encompassing, serving primarily as a tool to offer slight deviations from Primary World defaults. These deviations may be invented names, the altering of common words such as “hello”, or new words that represent new concepts in the imaginary world. Carter (1973) states that the most common techniques involve the transmogrifying of nouns either through the subtraction of syllables and/or the addition of vowels, or to simply create new names “full of X’s, Z’s, and Q’s” (p.193). These processes often lead to incorrect sounding names and should be avoided if secondary belief is to be maintained. A world-builder should instead be wary of the etymological roots of the noun, and should avoid using insignificant nouns as a foundation for 12 significant names in the imaginary world. For example, it would be illogical to name a large, prosperous, imaginary city after a small farming village in the Primary World. Moreover, a world-builder should endeavour to make it difficult for the visitor to determine the source of a new name, subsequently minimising the risk of extinguishing secondary belief. Carter argues that “Aptness” should be the primary criteria to determine the validity of a new name and that World-builders should be aware of what the name will signify when heard. The world-builder should also endeavour to create an internal logic in their naming conventions and adhere to it. For example, “lok” might refer to a King, while “El’lok” might refer to a Kingdom – the reoccurrence of the “lok” element creates an association between the two words. Therefore, it can be argued that successful neocognomina results from the use of apt nouns in logical combinations, whose elements reoccur where relevant. (Carter, 1973) Cultural change is the second element of invention, and is an area likely to influence the perceived secondariness of an imaginary world (Wolf, 2012). Cultural change, in this context, refers to anything that intelligent lifeforms have created within the imaginary world, for example: societies, religion, technology, architecture, and clothing etc. World-builders will often base their invented cultural elements on Primary World defaults, not only to provide a strong, logical baseline, but also to reduce confusion and misunderstanding by the visitor – the stronger a relationship is between the imaginary element and the Primary World default, the stronger the secondary belief will be (Baur, 2012b; Wolf, 2012). However, if an element is too close to its Primary World default, the secondariness of the imaginary world will be lessened (Wolf, 2012). Honegger (2011) observes an example of this in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings by comparing Tolkien’s race of the Rohirrim to Anglo Saxons. The Rohirrim remain, however original they appear, close enough to their source so that the reader would inherently understand them with minimal explanation. As suggested by Baur (2012b), the type of imaginary world the world-builder is creating will often determine the degree of cultural change within. For example, a high fantasy imaginary world would have a large degree of cultural change, while a real fantasy imaginary world would inherently retain many Primary World cultural defaults. Additionally, high fantasy imaginary worlds with large degrees of cultural change often interlink these cultural changes with the following element of invention: natural change (Baur, 2012b; Roberts, 2012). The third element of invention is natural change (Wolf, 2012). Natural change deals with flora, fauna, and geographical elements, of varying complexities. Natural change may be as slight as a single alteration of a Primary World default in order to introduce secondary elements to an otherwise Primary World setting, or the changes may be as involved as creating entire continents, ecosystems, or even planetary systems. Large degrees of natural change often occur when a world-builder is engaged in the encyclopaedic approach (Baur, 2012a; Gillet, 1996; Schmidt, 1995; Wolf, 2012), however it is important to note that this may be an intentional effort on behalf of the world-builder, or simply a by-product of their design method, especially if designing from the inside-out. Natural change may be interlinked with the following element of invention: ontological change, which would subsequently influence elements of cultural change within an imaginary world (Wolf, 2012). 13 Ontological change is the final element of invention, and is inherent to most wild-eyed wahoo imaginary worlds (Baur, 2012b; Wolf, 2012). A high degree of ontological change will intrinsically lead to imaginary worlds that are vastly different from the Primary World (Baur, 2012b; Wolf, 2012). Ontological change alters the reality of the imaginary world itself – for example, the insertion of magic, or the introduction of abnormal laws of physics would both be considered ontological changes. The introduction of familiar ontological changes, for example the inclusion of magic or faster-than-light travel, have become a common convention in the fantasy genre – warranting little explanation to be understood or believed (Wolf, 2012). As these changes become more complex, original, and secondary in nature, the world-builder has to ensure that the consequences of such alterations are reflected in other areas such as cultural, and natural change. For example, the inclusion of healing magic in a society would raise questions of healthcare in the general populace. Additionally, a world-builder should be aware of the ramifications of an imaginary world that includes extremely powerful and accessible magic (Baker, 2012). As with the three previous elements of invention, successful ontological change relies on a strong, logical baseline, and should be interconnected to the other elements of invention: nominal, cultural, and natural change (Wolf, 2012). Interestingly, the elements of invention can be subdivided into two areas, with a third area of relationship also emerging (Figure 5a). The first two elements: nominal change, and cultural change, are areas likely to be defined by the inhabitants of the imaginary world. Conversely, the last two elements: natural change, and ontological change, are areas that the inhabitants would usually have minimal agency to change, and which will also influence the first two elements. The second and third elements: cultural change, and natural change, are explained by Wolf (2012) as the two elements most likely to have the greatest balance between the imaginary world and the Primary World. Figure 4. Breakdown of the elements of invention and their interrelationships as interpreted and visualised by the author. 14 In order to maintain Secondary Belief, these elements of invention “must remain analogous, in some way, to the Primary World in order to be comprehensible” (Wolf, 2012 p.37). It stands to reason then, that a world-builder should begin by defining the ontological and natural elements of the world, followed by the invention of cultural and nominal elements (Figure 5b). Considering the depths required to sustain logical baselines in natural changes and cultural changes, further systems of relationship must be identified and taken into consideration by the world-builder. In summary, the degree of invention employed in the world-building process will inherently determine the secondariness of the imaginary world. Similarly, the degree of secondariness an imaginary world exhibits will determine the amount of explanation required by the visitor in order to maintain Secondary Belief. The explanation of the changes to Primary World defaults will often rely on interconnecting, logical baselines. Essentially, each element of invention should be analogous not only to each other, but also to the Primary World defaults upon which they were built. If invention refers to the secondariness of an imaginary world, then completeness refers to the degree to which these elements are realised, or appear to be realised (Wolf, 2012). 2.4.3 Comprehensive Plausibility: Completeness and Allusion After Invention, Completeness is the subsequent requirement of successful world-building, utilized to create an illusion of a complete imaginary world. Although an imaginary world cannot become wholly complete, a world-builder must provide enough information to the visitor that it appears not only whole, but also feasible, and practical (Dolezel, 2000; Wolf, 2012). Elements, such as food production, leisure activities, economies, and governance, will usually be thought of by the visitor as inconsequential flourishes. It is these elements, however, that will usually be the details that hint of a fully developed, practical imaginary world (Wolf, 2012). It has been noted that visitors to imaginary worlds will displace any attention to the Primary World when engaged with an imaginary world. Further, the more detail that is delivered to the visitor directly affects this displacement (Holland, 2009; Wolf, 2012). What this means for the world-builder is that an abundance of detail not only creates the illusion of a complete imaginary world, but also increases the likelihood of maintaining Secondary Belief. Wolf states: When there are so many secondary world details to keep in mind that one struggles to remember them all while experiencing the world, to the point where secondary world details crowd out thoughts of the immediate Primary World, saturation occurs. (Wolf, 2012 p. 49) Together with conceptual immersion (the experience of being fully engaged with the imaginary world), and absorption (the action of being pulled into the imaginary world through interaction), saturation is a valid component of world-building in maintaining Secondary Belief (Wolf, 2012). Further, Wolf argues that saturation, as a component of world-building, can be 15 utilized by world-builders to allude to elements of the imaginary world that are not directly indicated to the visitor. Wolf (2012) calls the allusion to subjects beyond the immediate view of the visitor world gestalten. Noting its roots in Gestalt psychology, Wolf highlights the mind’s preference in “the whole, rather than the sum of its parts” (p.51). The mind actively fills in the gaps that are not presented to the viewer, occurring in much the same way as in narrative gestalt 9. Wolf posits that the gestalt can apply to imaginary worlds, calling these gaps world gestalten: …in which a structure or configuration of details together implies the existence of an imaginary world, and causes the audience to automatically fill in the missing pieces of that world, based on the details that are given. (p.52) Wolf argues that when high amounts of detail of an imaginary world are given to the visitor, the gaps that lie between the details become smaller. Therefore, the more details that are given will directly influence the importance of the world gestalt. Further, larger gaps in detail require a larger degree of effort on behalf of the visitor in order for them to be closed. Lastly, Wolf argues that it is generally only the invented elements of an imaginary world that requires explaining. Primary World defaults that remain within the imaginary world (for example, a classic medieval caste system, or the stereotypical gender roles of an imagined race) can be taken for granted by the visitor, allowing the world-builder to rely on the world gestalt to close the gaps. If the secondary elements of an imaginary world require explaining, and the remaining Primary World defaults can be taken for granted, it can be argued that the explanation of the secondary elements are of high concern to the world-builder. If an imaginary world fails to explain these elements, Secondary Belief may be lessened. An example of this can be observed in the design of The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword (Nintendo, 2011) in which a large, centrally located bazaar in the city of Skyfall breaks the internal logic of the imaginary world (Thorpe, 2013). Considering that the city is an isolated landmass in the sky, the narrative and visual storytelling within the game fails to explain why the design of the structure deviates so drastically from the other buildings, and from where the sold goods within the structure originate. Conversely, additional strategies were employed by the designers in an attempt to maintain Secondary Belief in other ways. For example, each room belonging to the inhabitants of the city was personalised and designed to appear lived in. Capitalising on the world gestalt in this manner allowed the designers to suggest that each inhabitant lives a life not seen by the visitor, subsequently suggesting a more realised world. Of particular concern to the world-builder is not only the number of elements that need to be explained, but also the degree to which each element will need to be explained to the visitor (Carter, 1973; Wolf, 2012). Carter explains that the more secondary an imaginary world becomes, the more explanation is required to understand that imaginary world. Consider the following two examples: 9 Narrative gestalt is understood to be a ”configuration of details which implies a sequence of casuallylinked events, constituting a story, for which the audience fills in ellipsized actions or details, based on the sequence’s narrative logic.” (Wolf, 2012, p.378) 16 1 Joseph needs to travel to England to attend a job interview for a film director position. He travels to England by Plane. Primary world elements: England (place) Job (concept) Job interview (process) Film Director (role) Plane (transportation) 2 Secondary world elements: N/A Elrik needs to travel to Asmoorda to enslave the soul of the necromancer Maelokai. He travels to Asmoorda by the ancient Kalrect portal systems. Primary world elements: N/A Secondary elements: Asmoorda (place) Soul enslavement (process) Necromancy (concept) Necromancer (role) Ancient Kalrect portal system (Transportation) The examples above illustrate two simple narratives: one is set in the primary world, while the other is set in a secondary world. Example 1 requires little explanation as the narrative is set within a relatable space – the Primary World. When the text is read, the reader understands the concepts within it. Conversely, example 2 is set within an imaginary world – the narrative can be understood on a base level, however further explanation is required. Each element within the narrative is an invention and subsequently requires elaboration for the visitor to truly understand it and subsequently believe it (Carter, 1973; Wolf, 2012). A challenge present within each example is one of involving the visitor. Each narrative requires the reader to become involved with the protagonist – will Joseph get the job? Will Elrik enslave Maelokai’s soul? Each invented element needs to appear real and relatable somehow in order to increase the reader’s secondary belief – the reader must take seriously a number of elements that defy common logic and understanding. In summary, the completeness of an imaginary world will determine how easily the visitor can assume its existence beyond the elements that are alluded to directly (Wolf, 2012). Writers often use exposition to explain and extend elements of an imaginary world, however concept artists and designers often use visual cues to reach the same ends in videogames, either through specific designs, or environmental storytelling (Carson, 2000; Thorpe, 2013). For example, dust, rust, and grime might contribute to feelings of a “lived-in” world, while world gestalten might suggest other activities or elements. It can be argued that an imaginary world with logical invention, and a high degree of completeness will maintain Secondary Belief, however these elements must also remain consistent throughout the imaginary world. 17 2.4.4 Consistent Plausibility: Maintaining Secondary Belief Lastly, consistency refers to how thorough an imaginary world is with regards to its completeness, and the level to which all of the components of the imaginary world are related. If an imaginary world is consistent in its design, then the invented elements – both elements that are alluded to directly, and also the world gestalt – must be presented in accordance to a logical baseline, and without contradiction (Wolf, 2012). Elements must appear interconnected and analogous, otherwise an imaginary world will appear poorly constructed to the visitor. Additionally, invented elements must also be integrated with the Primary World defaults that remain within the imaginary world. As previously discussed, higher degrees of invention directly increase the secondariness of an imaginary world. Similarly, in order to remain consistent, higher degrees of invention result in higher degrees of restriction to creative freedom as each subsequent element is introduced. Understanding world structures and systems of relationship allows the world-builder to maintain consistency in their imaginary world (Wolf, 2012). As explored previously with regards to topofocal approaches to world-building, the logical placement of invented elements within the world is important if Secondary Belief is to be maintained (Carter, 1979; Roberts, 2012; Wolf, 2012). These elements, referred to as world structures, are identified by Wolf (2012) as: nature, culture, language, myth, and philosophy. Although closely related to Wolf’s elements of invention (ontological change, natural change, cultural change, and nominal change), these structural elements serve not only as additional elements of invention, but more importantly set foundations that allow world-builders to maintain consistency. Nature is the first structure and governs the physical components of an imaginary world, including the ecosystems that unite them. Ontological change and natural change govern this structure and may include alterations to the physical nature of the world, along with the creation of new flora, fauna, and humanoid races. In order to maintain consistency, the inclusion of invented ecosystems that include flora and fauna from the Primary World can often lead to contradictions (Carter, 1973). Additionally, a base understanding of evolution and universal properties of life is beneficial so as to avoid illogical and inconsistent inventions (Schmidt, 1995). Wolf (2012) notes that nature is often the least invented structure of imaginary worlds, as many world-builders rely on Primary World defaults or smaller preexisting concepts, for example the inclusion of magic or fantastical beasts. Further, worldbuilders that invent at such a level as to change the physical foundations of a world, might require careful consideration of these effects on a planetary scale (Gillet, 1996). The second structure is culture and relates in this instance to the social behaviours, ideas, and customs of the imaginary world’s inhabitants. Wolf states that invented cultures should shape, ground and connect “the natural world’s resources into such things as agriculture, architecture, clothing, vehicles, and artefacts, which in turn inform customs, traditions, language, and mythologies” (p.180). Cultural changes should be emphasised, and explanation is only needed when a cultural artefact has no Primary World analogue through which its function can be extrapolated by the visitor. Further, visual based media offer the world-builder 18 opportunities to deliver information regarding cultural variations without the need for audial exposition, instead relying on context to inform the visitor. Lastly, world-builders may also rely on Primary World cultural defaults upon which they can base their creations. Doing so is not only common, but also allows world-builders to rely their visitor’s preconceived notions of a culture to maintain their Secondary Belief. Further, some world-builders will begin the invention of imaginary cultures by studying cultural anthropology (Schmidt, 1995). A believable, yet highly invented society is more likely to arise from a strong understanding of existing human cultures. Language, the third structure relates to constructed languages and, although related to nominal change, moves beyond neocognomina. While neocognomina serves primarily as a tool to offer slight deviations from Primary World defaults, constructed languages or “conlangs” are developed to such an extent as to be perceived by the visitor as an entire language (Carter, 1977; Wolf, 2012). Wolf states that conlangs typically fall into one of two categories: “a posteriori languages that borrow from or are based on elements of existing natural languages, and a priori languages that are not based on real languages” (p.184). Although involving the same invention considerations as neocognomina, conlangs can serve as strict baselines to ensure consistency. For example, a well-developed conlang can serve as the structural blueprint for all the naming conventions in the imaginary world. Additionally, conlangs offer the world-builder opportunities to name invented concepts that do not have Primary World analogues. The fourth structure, mythology, relates to the invention of myths and legends which provide additional contexts to the imaginary world. Further, it has been noted that invented mythologies can provide historical depth, telling us “something about the world views inherent in a secondary world” (Wolf, 2012 p.192). Additionally, although many world-builders have been influenced by classical mythology, and the Abrahamic religions, it is often that world-builders forego monotheism in their imaginary worlds in favour of polytheism (Winter, 2012; Wolf, 2012). Winter (2012), suggests that the lure of polytheism, particularly in pure fantasy imaginary worlds, may result from the connotations of antiquity such religious systems conjure. Additionally, Winter notes that typical polytheistic religions can be split into two groups: kathenotheism, and henotheism. Kathenotheism involves the worship of all of the polytheistic gods, while henotheism involves devotion to a single polytheistic god within the pantheon. Further, Winter posits that the latter is favoured within fantasy role playing games as players are likely to find the individuality that comes from deciding which god to worship highly appealing. Finally, the mythology present within an imaginary world will often shape the philosophical outlooks of the worlds inhabitants (Wolf, 2012). Philosophy, the final structure, relates not only to the world views expressed by the inhabitants of an imaginary world, but also to an entire concept or outlook that an imaginary world might suggest (Wolf, 2012). Various concepts and worldviews can be delivered to the visitor of an imaginary world in a variety of ways. This is more likely to occur however, if the imaginary world contains “enough completeness and inner consistency so as to gain the Secondary Belief of the [visitor]” (Wolf, 2012 p.193). 19 The aforementioned structures are interrelated and require the attention and maintenance of the world-builder (Wolf, 2012). Structures of nature need to be balanced with maps in topofocal approaches (Wolf, 2012; Roberts, 2012). Natural change dictates natural resources and therefore influences language as the need to name new resources emerges. Natural resources also inform the cultural artefacts produced by a society, and how that society operates. Finally, mythology is usually influenced by nature, which subsequently shapes philosophy (Wolf, 2012). The consistency of an imaginary world relies on these elements and their relationships. If a particular relationship between world structures emerges, Secondary Belief may be lessened in the visitor. Wolf (2012) asserts that there is a hierarchy of importance with regards to levels of consistency. If an invented element is alluded to directly, or is referenced regularly, then its level of consistency to the rest of the imaginary world is crucial. Conversely, if an inconsistent element is simply a flourish, or a minor element of world gestalt, then the Secondary Belief of the visitor may not be impacted at all, especially if the element is minor enough to remain completely unnoticed. Additionally, some inconsistencies may only become noticeable when many elements are cross referenced, and are reflected upon collectively. Wolf calls these elements “aggregate inconsistencies” (2012 p.47), and suggests that they are of minor concern as casual visitors to the imaginary world would not normally notice them. Furthermore, the visitors that do notice aggregate inconsistencies will often “explain and reconcile them with their own theories” (p.48). It is important to note that Wolf’s assertions are directed at imaginary worlds created for storytelling purposes. This hierarchy may become more extreme in videogames – particularly fantasy role-playing games – as the visitor is often awarded time to explore and examine the minor details that might otherwise go unnoticed in other media. It is in this consideration that concept artists must endeavour to maintain consistency wherever possible, as there is a higher chance of aggregate inconsistencies to be observed. While the world gestalten of an imaginary world rely on completeness, it is also the consistency of the world’s elements that allow them to occur (Wolf, 2012). As stated previously, these systems are an integral component to maintain in the creation of a consistent and complete imaginary world. Although heavily theorised by the aforementioned scholars, no complete system has yet been developed that allows the world-builder to ensure that these systems remain consistent in their relationships – either in a review of an imaginary world, or during the worlds creation. Given the complexity of some approaches to world-building as presented by Gillet (1996), the difficulty of creating such a system cannot be understated. 20 2.5 Conclusion In summary, the theory of imaginary worlds is a relatively new field of study. The foundations of this field have grown from the theories of Tolkien, who was informed by Coleridge’s positions on the imagination. Imaginary worlds are understood to be less geographic and more experiential, however the experiences of the visitor include a geographic place. Imaginary worlds require a border separating them form the Primary World, however this border may be temporal rather than geographical. The degree of secondariness exhibited in an imaginary world relies solely on its degree of invention – the amount of Primary World defaults that have been altered. The completeness of an imaginary world is determined by how much of the world is alluded to, or conversely, how little of the world is realised. Lastly, the level of consistency within an imaginary world is determined by how logical and plausible all of the elements within the imaginary world remain when considered in their entirety. With all of this considered, the more invention and completeness executed by the world-builder, the more important the consistency becomes if Secondary Belief is to be maintained. Various scholars and industry professionals have offered strategies and approaches to worldbuilders. These strategies and approaches are as varied as their uses, however none of them appear to cater specifically to visual-centric world-builders, or world-builders whose imaginary worlds are to be experienced visually in the first instance. While some approaches offer broad considerations that are intended to be applied to the creation of an imaginary world in its entirety, no single method of world-building deals with the creation of a world, its inhabitants, and their societies from the ground up. In the beginning of this chapter it was stated that the videogames industry has increasingly built more and more complex worlds as a result of advancements of new technologies. As stated by some industry professionals, the development of these worlds has begun to be a primary consideration when creating a new franchise. 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