Writing Ramble: No Four Dimensional Characters

 Four dimensional characters aren't things. I've seen people suggest theories on how to get a fourth dimension of characters.

But bluntly put, three-dimensional is a term to stand-in for something good. What people want is nuance and some level of complexity. Three-dimensional is an artistic, not a scientific (well not in this sense at least) term. 

If I tell you "your characters are one-dimensional" and then leave and hit the Hookah with my hydra friend who takes up all the other pipe heads, you won't have learned anything. What I should say is that your characters are lacking complexity. 

Seeking this "fourth dimensionality" of characterization is trying to extend meaningless jargon. An exercise in futility. 

What you should be asking is how your characters slot into your story. Goals. Motivations. Purpose. 

Stop seeking the award. The title. The name. 

Look for the important part.

Neopet Nerdery: The Quest Log is Great

 A few years ago, Neopets released Trudy's Surprise. Trudy's Surprise basically works by letting you spin a slot every day, and you get Neopoints (the site currency). As the days go by, you get more and more neopoints, up until the 25th day, where you get a flat 100,000. 

Trudy's Surprise encouraged users to log-on every day to redeem their neopoints but honestly didn't do much else. There's no reason to go on the site when all you've got to do is spin the slots and slowly build up neopoints that you might use later.

A few weeks ago, on October 24th/25th, the Quest Log was released. The Quest Log basically asks you to do five tasks for neopoints and other prizes, and doing all five tasks gives you the 20,000. 

You may buy a certain number of items from neopian stores, customize your neopets, feed your neopets, and several other such tasks. 

This is great. The game is now actively incentivizing playing the game. 

In many games, there's a similar thought process with daily tasks. Now, you've got a reason to go and play parts of the game that maybe you never think about such as customization. 

To me, good game design is wherein the players are rewarded for going the extra mile to engage with the game. Not for a vague 100% or other reward, but for a tangible piece of progress.

Further, on average, the Trudy's Surprise gives you 450,000 NP a month. And with the quest log giving out at least 30,000 neopoints each day, you get an extra 900,000. This means you will have 1,350,000  NP. That's over one million. You can easily afford to shop at the Hidden Tower, and that's without extras from investing in other avenues like the Food Club and the Stock Market. (Food club could be another 450,000 if you play correctly, and Stock Market is about 30,000 more a month.)

I think if Neopets keeps up the quest log and other potential parts that encourage playing the site, the site may last longer.

Sector 17

(Protagonist is a violet.)

 

The dispenser dropped our task slips and I grimaced that I was going to have to farm. So, when Ivan retrieved his own slip, I quickly asked him where the city of Tartaglia was, and since he was a geography nerd, he explained, not even knowing I used my tail to swap our tasks. 

Cleaning the ship's exteriors? Well, beats farming. 

I live in Sector 17 so I don't get a choice in work. On the ship, there are eighteen different sectors, but sector 17 performs some of the worst tasks, with only sector 18 being worse. 

The sectors are assigned to you after schooling. As I grew up, I always wanted to be Beast Rider. Chasing and hunting with a giant creature with a gentle grip. 

But Ivan, Luke, and I were pretty bad at school. I could even remember our "court case". 

If you don't graduate school, you get assigned to court. 

Luke stood in the circular room, giggling because he was high. That was how he coped with schooling. The council came back with a verdict of "stupid" and Miss Cabbage said, "You are to be fed to the dragon." 

Luke laughed. "Bummer." And was promptly escorted to the bowels of the ship where he was eaten. 

"Okayyy . . ." I said. I approached the circular room next and I stared at Miss Cabbage, my former teacher. 

Every teacher I had from high school listened to me plead my own case. I said, "I'm not really here for school, but I've done my best to do my work as best as I can. I really want to become a rider of creatures. Forgive me if my work isn't always of higher tier quality." 

But I had to be careful. If I made this sound too much like I was genetically stupid, they'd probably assign me to lower levels where I'd have the most menial tasks. So I added some fault in my part. 

"I do think I should have stayed up longer. I deeply apologize for not passing." 

That seemed good enough to me, however all the teachers cast their votes, and Miss Cabbage said, "Sector 17, immediately." 

So now I was destined to live my entire life as I am here. Scrubbing metal ships and trying to do basic maintenance work. 

Well, that's not entirely true. There are a few options. 

Unlike other jobs on the ship, sector 17 is completely publicized. The council makes sure nearly no one ever escapes, because the paycheck is barely enough to cover necessities such as food and rent, much less medical care. No one ever makes enough money to rank-up.

So, there is one thing I do after a long day's work. 

After finishing my shift, Ivan and I went to Club Kafka.

Immediately after entering sector 17, I was given the main scoop on how to behave and act by someone who had been a couple grades higher than me that I hung out with, named Boris. Boris was nice enough to tell me about his underground club. 

The lights are neon pink, but the furniture is a cool blue. There's light entertainment from a couple of dancers. I sit as a blackjack dealer, about to serve patrons. 

Some try to count cards, but kicking them out is dangerous. If they go snitching to the administrators, we may end up in sector 18, or worse, meeting the dragon. 

So what I do is that I just cheat. 

We get about forty different "customers" a day. People need some level of stress relief. The black market of Sector 17 is oddly unbelievable for a group of individuals with minimal purchasing power. 

But I've been saving up. With this additional paycheck, I get nearly another 50 gold stars. That's twice my "official" paycheck. My goal is to grab a ticket. 

In the name of "fairness", twice a year, anyone from any sector, even sector 18, can buy a ticket to leave the ship, so long as we sign the NDA. However, the ticket costs 3000 gold stars. In all my time here, no one has ever left with a ticket. 

I thought I was going to be the first when someone knocked on the door. Boris pushed a button, making the door slide, when a Cipher Agent pulled out a laser gun. "Everybody, get low." 

No one obeyed. Instead, we all hissed and scattered. So much for that. If they had surveillance or got their claws on any records, we'd all be arrested, and I thought to try and grab the records but I knew I'd definitely get caught. 

So I scrambled into the vents and on all fours, I broke out into my own house. There just wasn't enough time. 

That night, as both of my hearts raced, I questioned if I would even get to see tomorrow. I stared at the vent I escaped from, and I realized none of this was even fair. I shouldn't have to work myself to the bone and nearly starve just to live. And nobody else should either. And even worse was that I, at least, had a shot. 

Someone knocked on the door. 

I didn't want to be attacked by an agent, but I didn't have a single weapon on me. Well I had a coffee pot, I guess, in my kitchenette that also served as my workstation where I went onto the terminals and looked up news about beast riding competitions and Towers tournament standings. 

Still, I wasn't about to take them out, even if I had a crowbar. So I opened the door. 

Instead, Ivan stood there, with several notes of stickers - the gold stars of currency. He handed them over and I took them. Wordlessly, we shared glances. 

Ivan broke the silence. "During the scuffle, I tore apart the records." 

"Oh, thank goodness!" I said. 

"Yeah, but I got arrested. The only reason I'm standing here is that I paid bail and they didn't see me destroy anything, or else I likely wouldn't be here right now. Anyway, I can't afford a lawyer. But in a few days, you can buy a ticket, you can leave." 

I hadn't even thought I'd be leaving this year, but he had saved at least 300 gold stars. With all the money I had made and scrounged up, this might be enough for a ticket. I might have to sell some things, of course. 

"Thank you," I said. "When's your trial?" 

"Probably on the same day you leave." 

"Then, I'll smuggle you out," I told him. 

"No, don't," he said, shaking his head, holding his claws out. "I would rather one of us leave, than neither of us. Don't jeopardize this opportunity." 

So that was our agreement. 

Club Kafka was no longer in order. While an investigation would be launched, the Cipher Agents didn't care anywhere near as much as the higher-ups, so the finger prints weren't usually taken. I've heard the Cipher Agents are actually from Sector 16, and don't have much incentive to work either. 

I wonder if Sector 15 investigates Sector 16? Eh, who cares. 

Boris didn't just get out on bail, but said he wouldn't even have to serve trial. "I managed to give them quite a few reasons not to suspect me of anything." He winked. He clearly meant money. 

"Wait, can you get Ivan out of trouble? If you bribe them, maybe he won't have to go to court." 

Boris paused. More seriously, he said, "Someone's gotta get in trouble. Look, I'm lucky they accepted the bribe in the first place instead of arresting me and just taking the money anyway." 

"You can't do this," I said. "We've been together for a long time." 

"So has Sasha and he knows the drill by now. Survival requires one thing--we all have to sacrifice if we want to win." 

"Seems like you're not willing to sacrifice for Ivan." 

"He'd do the same thing to me. Loyalty--this is your first lesson--loyalty is evanescent. We really need practicality. You never know who's going to turn on you." 

I wasn't able to press the issue further, and he then talked to me about where to set up shop next time in the sector. Attract new clientele. Figure out who the snitch was. I hadn't told him how I was moving out. 

However, on the day I was going out, Ivan told me he was going to report to court. 

I entered his home, while rolling my bag. His was the same issue as mine, but because of storage space and pipes and whatever nonsense, he became oddly lucky as he had extra space up top along with a floating bunk, and he didn't even have to pay. He was pouring some tea for himself, something premium. He asked if I wanted to play a couple arcade games before I left. 

I told him, "I'm smuggling you on the ship. I've got the ticket, just get in the bag."

He laughed. 

"I'm serious," I assured him. 

He shook his head. "Bro, you don't want to do this." 

"No, I have to do this for you. I'd never forgive myself otherwise, because we're friends." 

"They'll quickly realize you've got an entire person stashed away." 

"No, they won't," I said, "I don't think they'll have any reason to check my bags, but even if they do, you won't be off any worse. And I don't deserve to leave if you don't." 

Ivan asked me, "Do you really think this will work? Are you absolutely sure?" 

"You either get in there," I said, "or I put you in there." 

"Wow, threatening to put my body in a bag. Can't say I didn't expect that from you one of these days." But looking at his eyes, I think he was secretly grateful. 

So that's how I ended up strolling a particularly heavy bag, however I could let the officers notice as I went to the "exit vent". 

The exit vent was where everyone bought and placed their tickets. Well, everyone being myself. I couldn't let them realize how much I was struggling to carry someone else, so I relaxed my body, even as I was burning up. 

A couple of guards waited. I gave my ticket, and they let me board a ship. 

The pilot waved at me, and I sat on a chair. There weren't more than three other seats. 

"Big bag," the pilot said, "but not that I judge." 

"Yeah. You're sector 16?" I asked, wanting to know more about that rumor. 

The pilot shook his head. "No, sector 14." 

"Is that really better?" 

"You wanna find out, you can always ask the Council for re-assignment." 

The pilot took off. When you're in space, the ride is surprisingly smooth, especially because of the stabilizers. Almost like being on a train on tracks. 

"Have you always been on sector 14?" I asked. 

"I was originally sector 4. However, I got fired from my job and my social rank went down to sector 7." 

Wait, you could go to lower sectors because people didn't like you? In school, we hadn't heard exactly how anyone advanced throughout the sectors, maybe because the teachers themselves didn't know. I pressed him, asking, "How much lower can you go?"

"Well, you'll find out that in sectors 5 - 8 you can downgrade to the next class if you aren't productive enough. Eventually, I got to Sector 14." 

"Man, you must have done well in school." 

"Yeah, but I fell off after that." He sounded a bit depressed, but he swerved and entered another ship vent. 

We were in a different hanger, and I felt suspicious. We were at the lowest part of the ship. Wasn't this where they stored . . . 

The hallways was an intense, bright red. Dozens of guards stood on either side.

The pilot said, "We have to get off here." He sounded robotic as he said that. 

"Uh, dude, what are you talking about?" 

"My name is Vasily, but you can call me Vasya," he said. "I haven't been entirely honest. I'm not the one who takes you to Voto." 

I realized at that point that ranking up was only a lie. "Are you sending me to the dragon." 

The guards went to the rear of the ship and Vasily said, "I've never done this before. I'm so sorry." He prepared to push a button to open the back of the ship to let the guards take me.

That was when the zipper went down. I had let a little bit of space be open for air, but Ivan rushed out. I'd never seen him so quick. 

Vasily, in shock, whipped around, only for Ivan to push him away. "Okay, listen Nerd, how do we back this ship up!?" 

Vasily couldn't speak, so Ivan grabbed the stick. 

We began a wild ride.

Writing Advice: Facelessness

One thing that scares me is faceless people, and I'm not talking slenderman. I'm talking about creatures that take no political stances and just preserve the status quo. They call themselves heroes, even if they're just doing what suits them best. They put on make-up but only in the same way everybody else is. They have no opinions. 

Faceless beings talk but have no mouth, they receive and act upon information but have no ears, they eat but have no mouth. 

I am talking about inoffensive characters. 

The inoffensive character is the character written as a near blank slate. You think you know what I'm talking about and you casually are saying "oh thank goodness he's not talking about me, I don't write any everyman character" when in actuality I am not just talking to you, I am talking through you. 

I am talking about the characters that don't do anything against people. They follow the plot for no reason other than they are assigned to. They're part of the Deputy Brigade, Freedom Squad, Paw Patrol or whatever lazily named organization has been created, and are taught to catch the criminal, so they do so, because they're "good" people. 

The plot will usually put them in situations, but nothing ever truly damning for a character, nothing that puts them between the doors of light and dark. Oh sure, the situation will supposedly be prevented but be fundamentally meaningless. I am talking about a character who must face the fact they are like the villain in that, they too, are . . . and the story trails off. 

Okay, so I'm gonna flash back to a few years ago. I submitted the first chapter of N:Era ever. N:Era: Call of the Wild. So my biggest fear was how people would perceive Lilu. 

For those of you who never read what I wrote, Lilu is a hyena who is the princess of Sandrun. She's privileged, has lots of money, and essentially wants to run away from all of that because her mom is kind of a jerk. 

She belittles her friend Ahmond, throws temper tantrums when she loses games. Even though I wanted her to be a good person at the end of the day, I knew from the get-go people were not going to like this character I had created. She was rude, bossy, selfish, and mean. 

Every single person who has read that first chapter that I've talked to has said how much they like Lilu and think she's an interesting character.

So you might be thinking to yourself, "Well JAC, you sure are one smart cookie. But why would you purposefully risk tanking a character? Don't you know that first impressions are everything and people will take a lot longer to forgive a character than to love them?" 

Yes, I walked in exactly knowing that. I knew Lilu, however, would more greatly benefit from and to the plot if her personality was just as spotty as her.

Now I'm not saying that sending out characters is always going to be positive. I got lucky. Well, as lucky as intuition gets you. But essentially, I created a character that I knew was going to be risky. 

Cyras, meanwhile, is an atheist and frequently refutes religious arguments even though she herself is actually a god. 

Ahmond spent an entire story trying to defraud the Empress. 

And Rosod is a smarter-than-you individual who gets frustrated at everyone and is snarky and cynical. 

Each one of these characters has done something honestly terrible. And I don't mean terrible things like stuff that had to be done for the greatest good like having to burn all their diseased allies to stop the spread of Covid 1900. But I risk that, and I risk hatred falling onto them because that is who they are, because they have faces. 

And those faces also have good features on them. Strong, good features. Cyras is highly loyal and will ride-or-die with Ahmond and Lilu. Rosod redeems herself and showcases the power of proficiency. She can back up her sass sometimes. Lilu can be rather chill and just needs a better environment, meanwhile Ahmond is sweet and protective. 

Okay, but what about the faceless. Who are faceless characters? 

Ironically, faceless characters can still garner distaste, so instead of having true proper faces, with real mouths and real eyes, the audience will take needles and chisels and instead carve their hatred onto the faceless. They will gouge out fake, beady eyes, and smack out fake teeth, like they are working with clay. The end result is like a poppet. Almost human, but still too uncanny to be trusted. 

The faceless character might be, oh, I dunno, let's say some type of ranger character, who goes around, taking out the bad guys. They're supposedly super cool and have good skills at fighting. She's motherly, supposedly, and takes care of her own flock. 

The faceless character may instead be someone who, she's very willing to speak up for herself, just that at the end of the day, she has nothing to say and instead lets her husband speak at lectures. 

The faceless character, for example, is autistic. He doesn't add to the group, he doesn't detract from the group, he has no niche. Because of his lack of form, he can't do anything but be perfectly smooth.

The faceless character lives in a close knit circle of his friends and knows all the polite and proper language to speak about them and about their traumas, and he is just like them, except maybe he wants to be a space magician or a German cowboy. He'll have superficial differences, just like how terracotta soldiers might have different pockmarks, but at the end of the day, he is just one stone warrior amongst many. 

These characters lack traits that truly capture or break the heart. 

Don't make inoffensive characters.

 

What also gets me is faceless creators. You'll see them. They write down the cute, quirky author's notes where they describe a situation in a biased manner. They know the audience is going to dislike a character, so when that villain of a character survives, they're like, "Aw, that sucks, seems like Darth Ripoff is still going strong." 

They write about the evil stepmother and put in their notes: "Wow, talk about gaslighting!" as if they're part of their own audience. As if the narrative they've woven is something they weren't expecting as though we can't see the strings of the puppet-master. 

I have seen some faceless creators--remember, they use make-up to cover their faces--do this: 

Character A: Oh wow another chapter up so quickly? 

Author: Yup. 

Character B: Oh probably gonna be another good one because I'm in this one! 

Author: Heh, well I don't like to toot my own horn. Unfortunately, Character E still isn't in love with B because of C's machinations. 

Character B: *Glares at author*. 

Author: I swear things will right themselves in a couple chapters.

(Btw I have seen this near exactly).

Faceless creators don't want to upset their fans so they don't make firm choices or talks or notes about anything political. They'll write works that are political. Works that take a firm stance. But they themselves will not talk about their own works in that way.

Faceless creators will root for their own heroes and against their own villains.

If you want to make slightly better, more well-formed characters:

What is their vice? What is their virtue?

Among their friends, what makes them the best person to hang out with and the worst? 

And choose traits that actually garner responses. Someone who might not take out the dishes or clean the garbage isn't that offensive, in fact, that's quite ordinary. And choose something that matters in the narrative as opposed to "oh my character strongly believes in her right to speak" . . . and that doesn't come up. "Oh my character doesn't trust authorities" but they're always distrustful of the Lawful Evil(tm) overmasters. 

Why might you dislike Squidward? He's cynical. He can't swallow his pride and just not get himself into a situation. Why might you dislike Kiki from Kiki's Delivery Service? She can be rude to Tombo and keeps to herself, making her profoundly lonely. Why might you dislike Blake from RWBY? She's emotionally volatile and lashes out at people who are trying to help her. Why might you dislike Eren from Attack on Titan? He's reckless and brash.

And as for being a "faceless" creator, I'm gonna be honest, knock that shit the fuck off. You're not the fan. Stop giving out opinions on your own works or your own characters. I know I talk sometimes about whether I liked a chapter or not, but even then, I am speaking in a professional capacity about what could've been done better, therefore other writers who are reading can understand and go "oh I don't wanna be like that dummy".

Choose a personality. Say something. 

No matter what, however, avoid this facelessness, because even in the void of no identity, you will still be hated. At least receive hate for something you did.

Finally Finished Call of the Wolves! . . . Now What?

So I finished Call of the Wolves! Now all that's left is my Halloween story "Murder, Cyras Wrote", and then I got Tunnels Under Wysdom and . . . and . . . 

Well, that's a lot of stuff to do. But what's going on? 

So writing this did teach me a few things. While I've been writing for over fifteen years now, there's always more to learn. For example, I think my fight scenes are getting more as well as my prose. I tried to make the flow better and the world more vivid. I wanted more of a breathing world. I will explain further in an article called "The Depressive Worldbuilding of Glacialane", but essentially, this was all a test of my worldbuilding and now emotion-writing. 

Personally, this actually isn't one of my favorites. I would actually put this right in the middle. I had a lot of fun writing Fangs of Liberty and Where We Lie, but I guess odd novellas always gotta leave me going "hm". 

Anyway, what's done is done. Thank you to everyone who is reading.

Call of the Wolves Blurb

The worst emotion of all is the lack thereof.

After the recent death of her cousin, Kryyk, Cyras is filled with questions about the royal family. Do they truly have immortality as claimed, and if so, how did her mother die? There are too many flaws in Empress Owlis' "explanation". Regardless, she will follow the Empress to the end.

The Queen of Glacialane, Raynfall, lets her tears fall from the heavens, slowly flooding her kingdom. As Cyras and Team N:Era journey throughout the kingdom, they're opposed by the Howlers who work for the mysterious Ethereal King, and another mysterious wolf who's against all factions.

To stop Raynfall's flood, she has to understand the melancholic she-fox before every city is washed away, but how can she understand her when she doesn't even understand herself? And she also needs to survive the truth of the Ethereal King and the secret of the call of the wolves,

N:Era: Call of the Wolves is an Animal Fantasy exploring themes of godhood, depression, and forces beyond one's perception.

Sample Pages: 

Cyras never talked about her emotions. As she organized her cards, she grimaced at a few of the spooky dark ones that mentioned death, and thought that might not be appropriate for the next playing session. Would the others judge her? This wasn't the first time she was touched by death, not by a long-shot. Her father left her, and when he didn't return the following Spring, her mother explained he had died while wandering. And if everybody in her life was lying to her, she still had blood on her paws whenever she went out hunting, anyway.

The glow of the television bounced on the walls of the treehouse. Someone knocked. Rosod entered along with Lilu and Ahmond, so the entirety of Team N:Era was here. Cyras said, "Oh, you're all here . . . again."

"Owlis told us you would be here," Rosod said.

"Yeah, looks like you're ready!" Lilu said, seeing Cyras with her cards.

"I guess. Give me a few minutes, just play among yourselves."

The news mentioned Glacialane was facing severe flooding, one country was now re-emerging from beneath the sea, and the show Feed Me got cancelled after the host, a reclusive billionaire, was found to be a cannibal.

"This is sick," the officer said, holding up a chocolate dire wolf. "Sick I tell you! Sick!"

Cyras blinked a couple of times. "Riiight. Is television supposed to be this stupid?"

Lilu shrugged. "Nah this is pretty smart for the channels we get."

A news anchor said, "Glacialane officials advise everybody to stay in-doors, as this year's howling seems to be taking place in the Spectral Woodland Wilds. Queen Raynfall has only spoken on the issue in relation to land ownership . . . "

"What is the 'Howling'?" Cyras asked as she wrote a few lines on a notebook.

Lilu said, "Kinda this old folk tale. Every Spring, there's this Ethereal King, who attacks people. Those who survive being captured by his pack return with severe bites. No one's ever really seen his true form, but some survivors say that the looks they got, is he's apparently very inky."

Ahmond said, "Some say he's not even a wolf. My grampa said he heard the Howling a couple of times at his farm."

"I thought your grandpa lived in Chesniy," Cyras asked, pointing out how far the Ethereal's reach would have to be.

Lilu said, "The Howling has been heard in Aplepsis, Valarri, even Skya."

Cyras skeptically said, "If he has followers, you'd think at least one of them would have been interrogated or drop the whole truth."

"The attacks are pretty recent," Lilu said. "Like only 50 years ago. And I think his pack is wilders, so none of them are reporting anything to Civic authorities."

Cyras nodded. "We'll leave that to someone else."

"Nah, let's just throw a pretty foxy at him," Lilu said teasingly. "Speaking of foxies, I can't believe Owlis is really making us use this old place."

Rosod sat. "What are you writing?" she asked. "Card formulas?"

"Yes."

"You want any help?"

"Uh, no, thanks."

Ahmond asked, "Cyras, are you okay? You've been acting a little, down lately, maybe because of you-know-who."

"I am a bit."

Lilu said, "Hey, we're here for you, and we're glad to see that you're still doing pretty well. You have a great emotional resiliency than most of us, that's for sure."

The girls thought she was broken up about the death of Kryyk, but she hadn't even done anything wrong. She took out someone to protect the ones she loved.

They played cards for a few hours, until everybody left, the first one being Cyras. She slumped onto her bed.

That morning, she felt groggy and in a stay-in-bed-the-sheets-are-warm mood. However, she knew Owlis was expecting her over for breakfast. She exited her tower, made her way down into the main building, and followed stairs towards the back of the castle where dining arrangements were.

The sight of her friends and dignitaries greeted her. Owlis sat at the head.

"What's with all the guests?" Cyras asked, and hopped on the seat next to Owlis. Weirdly, this wasn't jam and tea or grapes and biscuits, but gravy and potatoes. A chicken sat in the center.

Cyras immediately wanted to go all reachy, grabby-grabby, but she wasn't that type of person anymore. She ordered a servant to bring her a piece.

Owlis said, "Cyras, we were planning to have this meeting earlier, but you didn't come in the morning. Can you explain why you missed breakfast?"

". . . I missed breakfast!?" The fox nearly panicked. She could almost feel darkness in the corners of her vision, but if she fainted now, would she also lose lunch!? How many calories would she deprive herself of? How long until you just . . . die? Oh wait, she's gone days without food in the wilds, she would be fine.

"Why didn't you wake me? Why didn't you all drag me out of bed? What time is now? Is this dinner? Was I awake yesterday!?"

"Cyras, Cyras," Owlis said, placing a paw on her shoulder. "Firstly, last time someone woke you up, we weren't able to clean the red out of the carpets, and I'm starting to run out of staff. Nextly, you just missed one meal. There are even leftovers. You can have them."

Cyras, immediately placated, said, "Okay! Where are they?"

"Focus, my girl," Owlis said. "Everyone said they could stay for lunch. There was a letter given to your room last night. I'm not sure why you didn't read that."

"I might have been asleep," Cyras said sheepishly.

"At 21:00?" Owlis muttered. "Anyway, we're on an emergency talk about the flood that's going on in Glacialane."

"Oh yeah, the flood," Cyras said. "Why is there a flood anyway?"

Owlis said, "Because of Snofall's sister, Raynfall. You met her during your birthday. I can feel her manifest the magic."

Cyras nodded. "Okay." How big was Glacialane? A few towns?

Owlis said, "Several towns are starting to flood in the northern lowlands and all throughout the entire kingdom. Millions are impacted by this, as are over a thousand towns and cities."

Huh, weird, bigger than she had thought. Not that she really knew how big a bunch of cities were, still getting accustomed to this whole "Civic-living" thing as opposed to living in the Wilds.

"Anyway," Owlis said, "We're not sure why Raynfall is doing this. We're not sure if she's lashing out because of Snofall's re-emergence, if she's trying to keep herself safe from something, or if she's been dumped by her boyfriend."

"Seriously?" Lilu asked.

"Last time she was dumped was 500 years ago." She muttered, "We still haven't recovered that city. Anyway, Cyras, you're the only Ascended who hasn't upset her, plus you're adorable, so we've decided you should be sent to investigate why she's acting the fool."

"Please," one dignitary said, "the rainstorm has been going on for several days now. My roof is leaking and my children have swim classes but the institute has been shut for flood warning."

Lilu remarked, "But in that case, can't they like, just go outside then?"

The dignitary grunted until staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.

Owlis said, "As is typical, I will be providing your tickets and transportation. Prospect, Glacialane's capital, isn't near a major portal network, the easiest way is for all of you to appear at Backport, and work your ways up."

Cyras said, "We'll be ready in a minute! After breakfast-lunch!"

1,000 Fights

 I've wrote at least 1,000 fights. That is no exaggeration. I have quite literally wrote over 1,000 fight scenes. Now in all fairness, I am using fight scene somewhat loosely, as I am including Yugioh duels when I was a fanfic writer, and I am including jousts and fights with rules. But overall, there is no doubt I have written over 1,000. 

1,000. 

That number never really got to me before until today. 

Uh, so this isn't gonna be a "real article" where I talk about stuff after copious amounts of research where I quote a hundred different books, and that's because, that's just not honest. That's an act. I'm gonna tell you just what I personally think is the most important stuff, and I'm not gonna organize my thoughts, as much as vomit a stream-of-consciousness.

I certainly don't think my fight scenes have ever really been that good and there's a lot I look back on and go "this could have been better", and I always thought I'd be better. But no. I don't think experience alone is enough, and I've learned a lot from studying as opposed to just doing. 

I could explain what makes a fight look cool, but that isn't the most important thing. The most important lessons I have learned are:

Number One: Fights Need to Matter 

Immature writing is writing something because you feel like a "fight" needs to be in that slot, because you feel there hasn't been enough action. 

But, I've also fallen into the trap of "let's write a fight scene to show how cool this character is, or establish this character". That's just not a good idea because there's only one reason for the scene, making the scene very shallow. 

Every fight needs to be about something bigger. Ideals, progress, character. Oh Cyras and Rosod are trying to see who's cooler isn't interesting. Cyras and Rosod fighting under the theme of "what makes someone smart" is more interesting. What's better? Having knowledge of every strategy, or having the knowledge to adapt. Knowing how to play a situation, or knowing how to play a person?

 

Number Two: The Fight Needs Story

The fight needs to develop and have a story. I call some fights that have some story beats but go nowhere with any of them "scrambled eggs", as in going all over the place. 

 Like, the fight starts off by establishing how A has a sword but B manages to get rid of the sword and starts kicking A's shin out, and A has a weak shin so he starts to fall. But then he starts beating up on B but B is beating up on A. Boring as hell.

Start off with hero winning or getting upper hand, but villain shuts them down quickly but the hero figures out how to win. Back and forth is just back and forth and isn't very inspiring. Figure out the "key" of the fight. 

-Maybe A has a weak shin, and B is exploiting the weakness. Is A gonna survive with his superior power, or fall to the weak shin.

 

Number Three: No Wasted Motion 

Every attack, every strike, has to advance the fight in some way. Or else you just end up with "everything goes well and then the end comes by". Like, how many vapid fights have you read wherein nothing really matters and then the end comes by. No move stands out, nothing creates a visceral reaction. 

There needs to be hits that just leave characters breathless. 

Underneath this, a reaction must come from being hit. Punches hurt. The reader has been hit in the head, punched in the gut, choked, and kicked in the nads. They know what those feel like, so why are your characters standing up like nothing happened. 

To me a bad fight looks like this: 

Swillow rushed Wasting before he sent out a blast of water. Swillow sidestepped and threw a fireball. Wasting caught the fireball in a whip of water, and circled her. Swillow launched herself for the throat of Wasting. Wasting sidestepped her and threw another whip of water meant to strike her side. 

Swillow stepped back, lowering her head, and summoned a wall of flames to evaporate the whip. Pushing forward, the black wolf pivoted around Wasting and shot another fireball, but the blue wolf sprung only to catch a bit of the blast. He stumbled a bit, and shot forth. 

As Wasting's claws came out, he caught Swillow's muzzle, leaving a thin red slice of blood. Swillow shouted. Wasting slashed repeatedly. Swillow dodged most of them but she was running low on breath.

Wasting swirled and rotated, but Swillow bucked his legs out from under him. Wasting rolled away, then smacked her across the face, so Swillow sent another fireball at him from close range. Wastng staggered back, and Swillow bucked him in the face . . .

 

So what makes this a "bad fight"? 

Scrambled Eggs - what's going on. Is the whole point that Wasting is really fluid in movement? Is there a focus on Swillow's power? No, there's just a back and forth, without any progress. 

Nextly, this is just words. How they feel emotionally to each part, how far they'd put on the edge, isn't addressed except for in the "running low on breath". All that is is a way of telling the audience "oh she's getting clapped." But there's no real "proof" of that. 

Also, the fight is just kinda "paragraph" chunks, not very segmented.

 What is the area?

Okay, but what would make this a good fight? 

Swillow rushed Wasting, her paws pounding against the brass, but he sent out a blast of water. She sidestepped, a ball of flames lighting up in her paw, that she launched at him close-quarters. 

Eyes widening, Wasting manipulated liquid from pipes, and they burst. A whip of water caught the burning red fireball, creating a violently hissing steam.

From the steam, Swillow launched herself into her brother's chest, head smashing into his ribs. Wasting tried to swallow a breath, but instead tumbled across the floor, his side smacking the metal wall. 

As Swillow jumped at him, Wasting rolled out of the way in a manner allowing him to stand on all four, before he snapped at her with another whip of water . . . 

So in the above sample: There's a vaguer sense of scenery. My thought is they're in a close-quarters hallway of a steampunk factory, but also there's more of a sense of Swillow rushes in at Wasting and relies on her heft, while Wasting mostly dodges and throws waterballs. 

And obviously I could improve on that even further, but that has a lot of the notes I've got as to what makes a good fight. 

Anyway, yeah, 1000 fights, here's to 2000.