Without even thinking too hard about this question I immediately know that I am a Gardener. Yet I might venture to say that I don’t even always know what I have planted. To me that is also very exciting, although at times those unknown seeds grow into mostly unusable forms. It is the discovery involved in writing, drawing, or any creative work is what is most enjoyable for me. I usually have an idea of where things will go, yet how the story or work will actually get to its destination is a mystery. I find the act of planning cumbersome in most processes. I think that is because I think best while moving. If I just sit and try to imagine things, I get stuck. My brother is the opposite and I always envied his ability to just plan out a story by just sitting and thinking.

I would likely benefit from taking more of an architectural stance, especially at the start of a work. Rather than simply gardening, I think myself an explorer. I like not knowing and then trying to discover more about what I have begun.

“To serve those above”

Character that lives in an underworld, in canyons and valleys. One character appears undead or mummified. He has browned skin and his ribs are visible.

Character from above finds himself in the valleys when he fails to uphold the prophecy.

Secret of the nation is that nobody has ever fulfilled the prophecy. It is a way to control people. (Details unknown)

Upworlders live in a bright city at the crest of the mountains. Structures span across the gaps between the mountains.

Writing with light. The etymology behind photography is a fascinating idea to explore in a more literal sense.

Dark and dangerous creatures live in the valleys and caverns below. (Opportunity for creature creation here.)

The Boy who Fell. Main character. Learns to survive below, along with the truth about the ones who live above. “Draping lies in lovely gowns, they have made beautiful horrors. There is a kind of wisdom in their denial. How could they continue to make beautiful things if they acknowledged the ugliness of their nature?” – The Guide

Perhaps all the characters are undead but those above pretend that they are not.

How do they get here? Does the boy know? How are there children here? Perhaps the undead are sent away while they appear near to life. The more they decay and show how far gone they are, the further down they are sent.

Is there magic to make them think they are alive? Perhaps, but doesn’t last forever. Maybe the ones above have to pay a price of some kind to keep the spell active. Maybe this is the reason for the “prophecy.” Maybe they consume a soul to keep the spell active.

Sometime, long ago, there was a spell cast that prevented souls from moving on so the souls returned to their bodies with nowhere else to go. The spell was cast by a sorcerer that was afraid of their lover dying. He/she broke a taboo in casting it. Instead of raising her/him it harvested the soul’s energy and created a barrier between this world and the next. One of the effects of the spell is extended life, allowing the soul to remain in the body far past its normal allotment.

Maybe someone gave the sorcerer the spell to further some larger goal?

Do people still procreate as normal? How are new people brought into the world? Are they remnants of the truly living people? Maybe the soul barrier only affects a certain part of the world. If undead pass beyond then they “die.” Perhaps absorbed by the spell which continues the cycle. People are brought in slowly but how do they get here? Maybe they don’t anymore but the spell lasts for a very long time and the people are able to exist indefinitely due to the number of people that exist within the boundary. They are slowly fading to dust in a world they imagine is everlasting.

Perhaps all of this exists on a continent that is largely “empty” according to those from without. The story will likely not involve people from other countries.

The tale will follow the boy as he learns about the world after he is cast out.

A scene where people at a ball or large high-class party dance with hollow eyes and withered corpses yet, only a few people can see them for what they are. The boy learns as he goes that he is the same. Perhaps the conflict in the story is about allowing people to pass on.

Perhaps the five stages of grief will be big story points. Hidden in the chapter titles.

• Cities have apparently no defense against the monsters that randomly assault the party across the world. Very few of these cities have walls or visible military.
• Settlements seem unaffected by the invasion by Nifleheim soldiers and daemons.
• Main characters don’t seem to act as if their world is being turned upside down until late in the tale. Much of the game feels like a road trip with the boys rather than a fight for the future of their country
• The antagonist’s motives are odd and confusing. He doesn’t attack the main characters until late in the game, and even then, he doesn’t kill the Ignis, Prompt, or Gladio when Noctis is pulled into the crystal
• What is the purpose of the time skip at the end? After 10 years, the world has become overcome by darkness.
• Characterization of Lunafreya is somewhat weak and flat. She is apparently in love with Noctis even though they haven’t met for over 10 years. Perhaps this is devotion to her role as priestess?
• The bond between the main characters is moving, especially at the campfire at the end. The way in which they interact is believable in most cases.
• Prompto’s past is brought up too late in the tale to feel significant. He stresses over the secret he has been keeping and they shrug it off in a few seconds. This scene does emphasize the bond between the characters, but it is given so little time in the story that it could easily have been cut with little loss to the narrative.
• The afterlife is not well defined, and while the ending is touching as Noctis sleeps on his throne next his betrothed, it is unclear what will become of him. The previous Kings of his line all become spectral beings yet Noctis does not. It is unclear why. However, the symbolism of the him sleeping is an interesting given that the name of the capitol is Insomnia. Thus, the tale ends with sleep coming to the sleepless kingdom.

The world of Final Fantasy is huge. The size of the world presents some challenges but also some interesting opportunities. The critique of FFXV is will need to be primarily focused upon narrative since the average time for completion of the game is almost 30 hours. Tasks and features which are not relevant to the plot will mostly be excluded unless they are especially relevant as resources to reinforce a point or idea. There also many characters in the game but only the main characters will be discussed in any depth. There may be a few side characters that might be worth exploring but the critique will likely become too broad if I delve into each of them. It may also be necessary to draw upon some information in the film Kingsglaive, which takes place mostly before the game but overlaps with the first few chapters of the game. There are some details in the film which discuss how the magic system functions which are not discussed in depth in the game. There also some inconsistencies between the two works although they take place within the same world. However, since this critique is about the game and not the film, so the issues of completeness between the two should be a supporting point rather than a main point. Another thing which should be discussed are the locales which are visited in the game. The order of the main subjects of discussion will likely be discussed in another entry.

An interesting challenge present within the medium of games that is not present in other media, is that the audience experiences the world from a unique perspective. In movies or books, the audience experiences the work exactly as the author designed it. While there are cutscenes and other scripted events which the player is not able to influence, there are many other situations where the player is able to experience the world in a variety of ways. The audience in a game is free to explore open world games at their own pace. They can engage with the narrative, take on sidequests, or simply venture out into the world with particular objective to explore. The world building of a game can be complex due to the varied ways in which a player can experience it. The discoverable details about the world will likely be a point of discussion as well.

There are many images within the Hobbit that I found helpful for the text or simply found aesthetically pleasing, yet perhaps one of the most powerful images is The Burial of Thorin by Alan Lee on page (p. 177). This brings the solemnity of Thorin’s death to life in a way that the text did not when first I read it. The solemn procession carries the Thorin, the new King Under the Mountain towards his final resting place far below where he will rest along with the Arkenstone for untold ages. In the text I was not bothered by Thorin’s death because it seemed just another casualty of war. However, after viewing this image and recalling the text, a sadness comes forth when realizing that Thorin never truly fulfilled his longing. Thorin’s desire to reclaim the lost halls of his youth inspired the entire journey which later enabled the defeat of Sauron in the Lord of the Rings, according to Appendix A, The Quest of Erebor.

The Burial of Thorin also is also significant in that it brings to mind the films, especially The Fellowship of the Ring, as the party enters Moria. The shear drops along the edges of the stairs beneath columns and arches far above emphasize the distinct architecture of the Dwarven race like no other illustration in the text. Further, the whitish yellow of the torches serve as the only illumination in that lightless place beneath the world where Thorin’s corpse will finally come to rest. One can almost see themselves as part of the grim parade, watching the pallbearers descend further into depths. This illustration likely served as major source of inspiration for Peter Jackson’s depiction of the Mines of Moria as the colors and architecture closely resembles that of the films.

Collaborative storytelling is among the most rewarding experiences that I have had in terms of creative writing. I have long been involved in role-playing game, much longer in fact than I was aware of the term. In fact, it was LARP in the backyard with my younger brother which defined the direction I now seek to make a career. Karin Tidbeck claims that the mechanics of DnD and battle-oriented LARP has nothing to do with LARP as a medium for exploring creative expression. I wholly oppose this concept. While I can say that the LARP of my childhood was more open, the organization of tabletop RPGs provided a format which is more readily shared with others. The negative connotations associated with RPGs, which are far too many, would likely be worsened if there were no system in place which could easily be explained to others who may not be involved, or may be ignorant of what roleplay entails.

Through the years I have been involved in many kinds of roleplay, ranging from freeform improv, tabletop RPGs, and even full costumed, combat oriented fantasy LARP and it has all been useful as a writer. The freedom of improv lent me the ability to create ideas on the fly while weaving those ideas together with another as Tidbeck suggests. The system of DnD provided me the opportunity to collaborate with others on stories that have spanned years. Finally, the battles of the fantasy LARP allowed me to physically engage with others, which has aided my hand-eye coordination, helped me to critically think on the spot as I gauged the strengths and weaknesses of my opponents, and given me hands on experience in facing a dreaded rival in mortal combat. While there are some aspects of LARP, such as arguing about mechanics, which are likely of little use, the experiences of mock battles can be extremely valuable as a writer. If one is attentive to the strategies of players, one can gain insight into how a battle might be fought by fictional characters who are actively strategizing, just as the players do when they are playing the game. As Tidwell stated, “LARPing gives you a 360-degree immersion, and you can really sink into that other person’s mind”, this too applies to tabletop and fantasy LARPing, at least in most cases in which I have been involved.

While reading the Annotated Hobbit, a question which I have mentioned previously in these journals has reappeared. That question is being: where is the line between borrowing and stealing an idea? There are many references to Celtic, Norse, and Anglo-Saxon mythologies present in the text. These references range from somewhat vague, as in the case of the post card that inspired the character of Gandalf, to the direct copying of the Dwarves’ names. Do such references strengthen a work, and further, is it ethical? In today’s world of rapidly produced entertainment media, most can not get away with referencing a work so closely as in the case of the naming of the dwarves. In fact, there have been legal battles over simple things such as an item existing in two games which shared some similar features. Yet it seems that borrowing or copying material from older works is not only acceptable, but even praised in many cases. Yet for some reason it is frowned upon to borrow too heavily upon current media, although it does happen. The recurring question then, is when is it okay to borrow ideas and how far must they stray to be considered original?

In my own works, especially in the case of fantasy writing for DnD, I do not put much thought into these lines due mainly to my ideas being shared to only a select few. It is here that my writing is perhaps most original, though there are certainly other works which inform and inspire events in the game. However, when a work is to be shared with many, it seems especially important to avoid being too like other works. This caution often gets in my way as a writer or designer. When my constraints are too tight, I tend to draw blanks as to how to continue. What is worse is that my interest and passion can die in the process of finding my way around the obstacles. Perhaps it is best to simply allow the mind to wander and dream and worry about editing afterwards. After all, it would be a shame if the act of creation removed the desire.

 

While watching the play, Next to Normal today in the Harton Theater, ideas began to flood into me from the show at a pace that I could hardly write them down. Literal translations of metaphors in the show were amazing in my mind. Yet I came upon a sort of problem while thinking about these ideas. Is it okay to use ideas that were derived directly from another’s work? I wouldn’t ever copy an idea, but certain themes and situations pleaded with me to be written and explored. Perhaps it was the emotional significance that I interpreted from the material that made these ideas so appealing to me.

For instance, there was a certain character that had died before the play takes place, yet he is alive in the mind of the Diana, the mother in the show. She seeks freedom from the delusion that he is still around. This gave me the idea of a character that exists only based on the belief of other characters. Denial of this character would effectively kill it. This brought up another concept that I have wanted to explore for a long time, that being that belief constitutes reality. There are many stories, including Next to Normal that have situations where characters cannot be sure if they can trust their experiences. But what if “real” was nothing more than one’s perception? There were several other ideas that I scribbled down while watching the play, but they were all accompanied by the same problem, how much can one draw from inspiration before it becomes plagiarism?

Since several of these ideas occurred to me before seeing the play, I will likely continue to work with them until they fit into a work of my own, but I need to do some research into this topic for future works. I will likely come across the same problem with any creative work. One cannot entirely escape the influences of other works, but it is never permissible to copy another’s idea. The line dividing the two seems often too blurry.

 

I have long had a fascination with possibilities that can only be vaguely described. For instance, if there is up, down, and sideways, forward and back, could there be another spatial direction in which one might travel? What about color? Could there be other colors which are perceptible by the human eye found only on some distant world?

In the book by Edgar Rice Burroughs, A Princess of Mars, the concept of extra rays of light are explored. The Sun is said to generate nine rays, or colors of light. The first seven are found on earth and represented in the rainbow, the eighth and ninth ray are found only on mars, or as the people who live there call it, Barsoon. The eighth ray is used to propel the flying machines and the ninth ray is used in some way to make the atmosphere habitable. What I found particularly interesting though is the description of these other lights. Or rather, the authors inability to explain exactly how this ray appears. He makes comparisons as to how one might find it difficult to describe a color to a blind or colorblind person. There must be a reference point for understanding. Thus, all the reader is given is the concept that this new light is visible and that it is distinctly different from all the known colors with which any average person would be familiar. Though vague, the idea fascinated me when I read it around age twelve to fourteen, I cannot recall exactly. I am still fascinated by experiencing concepts which lie outside of the human ability to perceive.

Another strange idea I used to wonder about many years ago was the idea of a third sex and how it might function or appear. These ideas came to me as a teen when I was largely ignorant of any sex other than my own. Yet the idea still intrigued me greatly. In the Netflix original Anime, Knight of Sidonia, such a concept was explored, though differently then I had imagined. In this created world, humans had evolved such that some had the ability to gradually change their physiology to become either male or female depending on the sex of their interest. Yet it was still one or the other. My idea regarded a third, entirely different sex which had some unique function to serve. I never pursued this idea in any depth, but the concept stuck with me over the years. I am unsure if I will ever follow up on this idea but perhaps it will come up eventually.

The lure of the unknown still fuels many of my ideas and will likely be a major source of inspiration for my final created world. Who knows what might await the curious mind behind the veil of the known? I am anxious too discover those secrets.

 

Nothing is truly original. Everything has been done. However, not all combinations of all ideas have been done. Further, many things are new to me or someone else. As a challenge, this class has restricted students from building on pre-created worlds. Yet I am having difficulty generating new ideas that exist separately from my other works. I tend to blend my own created worlds together. Even worlds which I had thought existed separately from one another. It is exciting to me when I see how source material references itself behind the scenes. I have so much history from DnD campaigns, to the backyard worlds within which I lived during my childhood and early teens. However, this reliance on the old has become a sort of crutch which complicates the business of creating new material. Even when I think I am generating new ideas, friends will often point how my ideas are nearly exactly like some other world, often worlds which I did not know of.

How then can a writer create original material? Whether personally written or inspired by others, an Author must borrow the ideas of others. Their only invention seems to lie in how the pieces are combined. Like the shards of a fractured puzzle, an Author must curate material from every source with which they have ever experienced and meld those into a new combination. Or rather, one that is new at least to them and their audience. It is both humbling and frustrating to see how all fiction is bound together by the authors of yesteryear. The ideas of unknown ancestors inform my ideas both directly from current material and also from the past ideas which informed today’s authors.

Perhaps an awareness of the interconnections and interdependence of created worlds is the necessary ingredient for generating fresh ideas. Or perhaps, one must directly input their personal experiences, which are unique among all individuals. Though the details may seem to echo from life story to the next, the context within which those details exist is never entirely the same. Though many have lost pets, no one else has lost my pet. Though many have had Christmas celebrations, no other has experienced my Christmas mornings from my perspective. Perhaps even in a world of so much repetition and variation there really can be new stories.