Carnival Of The D.A.M.N.E.D

Creating Memorable Fantasy Companions Ask fantasy readers what they remember most about their favourite book, and they’ll often surprise you. It usually isn’t the final battle. It isn’t the magic system. It isn’t even the villain. It’s the companions. The people who travelled together, argued together, laughed together, and somehow survived one another long enough to save the world. Great fantasy isn’t built around a single hero. It’s built around relationships. Perfect Heroes Are Forgettable Perfection is difficult to relate to. Characters who never make mistakes, never disagree, and always know exactly what to do can be admirable. They can also be rather dull. Readers connect with flaws. They remember the knight whose honour gets him into trouble. The mage whose curiosity occasionally outruns his common sense. The thief who insists every locked door is simply an invitation. Imperfections make characters feel human. Every Companion Needs a Disti...

  The Origins of Barric the Barbarian When people hear the words barbarian and fantasy , they tend to imagine the same character. Towering muscles. A gigantic axe. Very little conversation. And, if we’re being honest, not an enormous amount of thinking. I wondered what would happen if I kept the muscles… …but changed almost everything else. The First Thing I Knew About Barric Before I knew what Barric looked like, I knew what he was doing. He wasn’t fighting. He was reading. The image made me laugh. A mountain of a man quietly absorbed in a book while everyone around him prepared for battle. The axe could wait. He hadn’t finished the chapter. From that moment, Barric’s personality almost wrote itself. Strength Doesn’t Have to Be Loud Fantasy often equates strength with aggression. I’ve never believed that. The strongest people I’ve known have usually been the calmest. They don’t need to prove themselves. Barric became an exploration of t...

  Writing Humour in Fantasy Without Breaking the Story Fantasy and humour have enjoyed a long partnership. From Terry Pratchett’s wonderfully absurd Discworld to the dry wit found throughout modern fantasy, laughter has become as much a part of the genre as dragons, wizards and magical swords. Yet humour is surprisingly difficult to write. Not because jokes are hard. Because stories are. The moment readers stop believing in your world, the joke has gone too far. So how do you make readers laugh without breaking the story? The World Must Take Itself Seriously One of the biggest misconceptions about humorous fantasy is that the world itself should be ridiculous. I disagree. The world should remain believable. The characters should take their jobs seriously. The knight genuinely believes honour matters. The mage genuinely believes this spell will work. The priest sincerely believes the gods are watching. If everyone knows they’re in a comedy, the il...

The Problem With Chosen Ones Fantasy has a long-standing fascination with chosen ones. The farm boy destined to save the world. The orphan with mysterious powers. The child marked by prophecy before they could even walk. They’re everywhere. And for good reason. A chosen one immediately gives a story purpose. Readers understand the stakes from the opening chapter because somebody, somewhere, has already declared that this particular hero is important. But there’s a small problem. Real people don’t receive prophecies. The Weight of Destiny The chosen one trope can produce some of fantasy’s greatest stories. From The Wheel of Time to Harry Potter , watching an ordinary person struggle beneath extraordinary expectations can be compelling. The best stories aren’t about the prophecy. They’re about the person trying to live with it. Destiny is easy. Living up to it is considerably harder. When Prophecy Becomes a Shortcut Sometimes, however, prophecy does t...

Building a Fantasy Guild That Actually Feels Real Walk into almost any fantasy guild and you’ll usually find the same thing. A noticeboard covered in monster contracts. A grizzled veteran behind a desk. A handful of adventurers arguing over who gets the dragon. Then, ten minutes later, everyone leaves to save the world. It’s a formula that works. But it has always struck me as a little… tidy. Real organisations don’t work like that. Real organisations have departments. Policies. Paperwork. And at least one person who insists you’ve filled in the wrong form. A Guild Is More Than a Quest Board The best fantasy guilds feel as though they existed long before the hero walked through the door. They have traditions. Rivalries. Politics. Members who’ve been there for decades and apprentices who still can’t remember where the broom cupboard is. The building itself becomes a character. Readers should feel that life continues inside the guild whether or not the protagonist hap...

  Why Adventuring Parties Should Never Be Trusted If you owned a tavern in a fantasy world, which group would concern you more? A dragon. Or seven adventurers. The dragon probably wants livestock, treasure, or perhaps the occasional kingdom. Its goals are usually straightforward. Adventurers, on the other hand, arrive with a remarkable ability to turn ordinary situations into memorable disasters. Within a few hours they will have discovered a conspiracy, offended a local noble, acquired a mysterious artefact, started a fight, and accidentally accepted responsibility for saving the world. The dragon, by comparison, seems refreshingly predictable. Every Adventuring Party Contains At Least One Liability Fantasy adventuring parties are built around a simple principle: No matter how competent the group appears, at least one member is an ongoing threat to public safety. There is usually: A knight with more courage than common sense. A wizard conducting dangerous experiments. A ...