Magic In Fantasy
A response to a disagreeable video I have since forgotten
This post has been languishing in draft for years, now. Literally.
It began as a response to a YouTube video where some Aussie started going on about how magic in fantasy should be, according to him.
Thing is, I can’t even remember the YouTube channel I had been watching. That little prick was that forgettable.
Since that time, I have seen a deconstruction of fantasy magical systems by a number of authors, most notably one Brandon Sanderson, whose Laws of Magic are listed below:-
One, An author’s ability to solve conflict with magic is DIRECTLY PROPORTIONAL to how well the reader understands said magic.
Two, Limitations > Powers. (In other words, the limitations of magic outweigh the abilities of said magic).
Three, Expand what you already have before you add something new.
The thing is … I don’t hold to these stances.
Not. One. Bit.
Magic =/= Superpowers
Let me run that by you once again. Magic =/= Superpowers. Magic is not some weird mutant talent where the character waves a hand, and the CGI effects crown create a computer-generated shower of sparks to fry the bad guy across the room. This is not The Fantastic Four.
Magic == Catalyst
The purpose of magic in a story is to be the catalyst of change.
This puts a spell in the same sort of place as a gun in a play. If the story mentions that magic exists, a character must be seen using the spell early in the story to establish that they are a magically-aware person.
The spell must first of all be used in a minor capacity, before being used for the first time for a significant reason, and that reason must be story-changing, though never story-ending.
Magic Needs A Target
In the same way as a gun, or candlestick, or a length of rope, must be established early in a whodunnit story before it is used as a murder weapon, so too do we need the target on whom the spell is cast: the husband material silver fox in that romantasy on whom the witchy protagonist casts her charm spell; a victim of the antagonist whom the antagonist had just beaten severely, requiring a healing spell to restore their body but not their traumatised mind.
Track The Ongoing Effects
A spell should have effects beyond the casting. A spell to charm somebody, influencing their decision-making to favour the caster, should affect the target, those around them who are concerned about the target’s abrupt change of mind. A spell of destruction, for example, which cuts loose in a crowded area full of people should inflict lasting trauma on eyewitnesses and survivors, much as modern witnesses would be affected psychologically after surviving a terrorist attack.
Secrets should be revealed, or hidden; wounds could be reopened, or healed. Events occurring as a repercussion of the spell should always be significant.
Memory
People who watch a spell being cast should feel as if the action of casting were seared into their brain, imprinted in long-term memory like a shock from witnessing a lightning strike, or an event like a fire in a crowded area such as a sports stadium, or a nightclub.
Repercussions On The Caster
When a caster is seen performing a working, whether it is a healing or a curse, no witness will ever look on the caster the same way again. The caster has just rewritten reality, possibly causing some sort of weird effect - something breaks down, something else stops working, a badly-beaten man on the ground gets up fully healed, or the caster says something that everyone knew, but never told the caster out loud, inferring that the caster had just read someone’s mind.
Nobody should continue to regard the caster of a spell in the same way, especially if the spell had caused something significant and terrifying such as inflicting mass death in an area such as a fireball spell, or something that causes organic living matter to crumple into piles of offal.
Shifting Balances
There should always be some sort of shift, once a spell has been cast. Loyalties and allegiances change; trust is eroded, or shifts to somebody else; people walk away, or join a cause, or swear a vow to let no significant change go unpunished.
Rule Of Cool
Berin Kinsman wrote about the role of magic in fantasy roleplaying games in this article.
In fantasy roleplaying, magic works best when it moves the story. A spell can shift loyalties, reveal secrets, or change what someone thought they knew. When it shows up in the story, the world should feel it.
Give magic a role beyond utility. A charm of protection might only work when spoken in truth, forcing a character to confront a lie they told. A village might hold a yearly rite that keeps the harvest safe, until someone refuses to take part and the crops begin to rot. A healing spell might draw power from a hidden place, waking something that should have stayed asleep. These aren’t plot twists. They’re the results of magic being part of the world’s cause and effect.
Use spells to raise questions. Let the presence of magic mark a place, tie people together, or open something that has been shut for too long. Every use should echo. The story should remember that it happened.