Conlang Showcase - Ilothwii

Video Statistics and Information

Video
Captions Word Cloud
Reddit Comments

I mean let's face it, approximately 100% of this sub is already subscribed to him and were going to find this in their subscriptions list anyways

👍︎︎ 131 👤︎︎ u/John_Langer 📅︎︎ Jun 10 2020 🗫︎ replies

Beautiful but I'm having flashbacks to a conlang a friend of mine made (a goergian Nahuatl mix) shudder

👍︎︎ 49 👤︎︎ u/vosko_vitsa_vovi 📅︎︎ Jun 10 2020 🗫︎ replies

Illothwii is like jeojwkwnwkekwnenkinsertrandomvowelsherekehkwnc

👍︎︎ 42 👤︎︎ u/AnatoliRD 📅︎︎ Jun 10 2020 🗫︎ replies

Biblaridian's showcase videos are just insane, it's honestly hard to believe that he created the languages. It's the perfect worldbuilding, where he can explain it as if he's simply an explorer or linguist describing what he sees.

👍︎︎ 42 👤︎︎ u/RichardDickDangle 📅︎︎ Jun 10 2020 🗫︎ replies

He has an account, but I don’t think he has been active. look up his account. He posted on here.

👍︎︎ 27 👤︎︎ u/Idraccirc 📅︎︎ Jun 10 2020 🗫︎ replies

I know he makes conlangs in a naturalistic manner but holy bejibies.... That looks like a toddler took all the crayons and scribbled them all on a piece of paper because they were available. That being said, itĘťs gorgeous <3 Complex, and intricate, but not artificial sounding or looking in the slightest. I only dream to be as good a conlang maker as he!

👍︎︎ 27 👤︎︎ u/Lou_B_Miyup 📅︎︎ Jun 10 2020 🗫︎ replies

It’s actually an old conlang. Just a new presentation.

Guy really likes his noun incorporation and polypersonal marking.

👍︎︎ 24 👤︎︎ u/hockatree 📅︎︎ Jun 10 2020 🗫︎ replies

This conlang be like QthrmjaaqĂŤĂŤmaa' mohlnmdrwykqgrmdan.

👍︎︎ 9 👤︎︎ u/Yuh_boi69 📅︎︎ Jun 10 2020 🗫︎ replies

I wish more people did conlang showcases like this, this is great

👍︎︎ 10 👤︎︎ u/SPMicron 📅︎︎ Jun 10 2020 🗫︎ replies
Captions
“Far across the sea from great cities of the lands of the sun and the palaces of Nekāchta, at the furthest edge of the world before the curtain of shadow lies the desolate volcanic archipelago of Nhlogqwa. It is here, and in a select few port cities along the coast of the mainland, that Ilothwii, the oldest of all tongues, still clings to existence, unchanged even after untold millennia. Though it has largely been forgotten by the mainlanders, it is still hailed as a language of ancient mystery, associated with mysticism, the occult, and antiquity.” Okay, so to be real for just a minute, I started working on the original version of Ilothwii in 2014, very soon after I abandoned Thandian, when I resolved to try my hand at making a polysynthetic language. The project very quickly degenerated into complete trash, so I had to scrap it and start again from the ground up, and this happened four more times until I finally managed to make it into something I was somewhat satisfied with, which I’m very pleased to be sharing with you in this video, which is being sponsored by Campfire, be sure to stick around to the end to hear more about that. Within the context of its fictional world, Ilothwii’s genetic relationships to other languages remain unclear. Some scholars have argued that it’s a highly aberrant Thirēan language, but if that’s case, it would have to have diverged long before even Proto-Thirēan. The more likely scenario is that it’s just an isolate that’s been influenced by areal affects from being in reasonably close proximity to Nekāchti and other Thirēan languages. Whatever the case may be, Ilothwii’s phonology is unusual to say the least. The consonant inventory includes both voiceless and voiced uvular stops, the voiceless lateral fricative and affricate, the voiceless dental fricative, and the velarized lateral approximant, but no labial obstruents at all. As for the vowels, the front mid vowels are conspicuously absent. In Old Ilothwii, the /e/ vowel raised to /i/ in stressed and final syllables and centralized to /ә/ everywhere else, leading to some fun alternations when words are conjugated. Illothwii has a highly complex syllable structure and allows nasals and liquids to serve as syllable nuclei. However, word-final syllables form an exception: not only are words forbidden from ending in clusters, but only a limited set of consonants can serve as word-final codas, and only the long and short variants of /a/, /i/, and /u/ are permitted as nuclei. This overall reduction in the number of distinctions made in word-final syllables is one of the areal features Ilothwii has in common with Nekāchti. Being within the Thirēan sprachbund, Ilothwii has been affected by some of the same sound changes as the mainland languages, such as aspirated /t/ becoming the dental fricative, /d/ going to /r/ between vowels, and non-syllabic /r/ going to /d/ following nasals. However, Ilowthii also has many phonological quirks of its own, such as voiceless stops becoming glottal stops between vowels, front vowels becoming centralized following uvulars, and alveolar stops going to velar stops before velar approximants. Stress in Ilothwii is virtually always on the penultimate syllable. There is some tentative archaeological evidence to suggest that Ilothwii once had its own writing system, with some crude inscriptions dating back to a time before the Thirēan peoples migrated into the central regions, which would therefore make it the earliest known writing system in the world, and some particularly brazen scholars have even posited that this script was the basis for the Ancient Edun Logography. However, even if these prehistoric markings do constitute a proper script and not just simple pictographs, the system fell out of use over a thousand years before the rise of the Empire of the Sun, and the specifics of how it worked has long since been lost. For much of its history, Ilothwii has gone without a writing system, but when the Nekāchti borrowed the Edun script and then thoroughly simplified it, the new system spread all across Thirēa and was adopted by practically every language that came across it. However, Ilothwii was much slower than most in taking up the new script, mainly because its phonology was so different from any of the mainland languages that it presented a serious challenge for the Nekāchti system to adapt to. First of all, the revised version of the Edun script that Nekachti was using at the time could only transcribe clusters of two or three consonants, which worked just fine for Nekāchti, but Ilothwii allows enormously long strings of consonants, not to mention syllabic resonants, which the Nekāchti speakers were unable to pronounce without inserting epenthetic vowels. To help them more accurately transcribe the ilothwii syllables, the Nekachti scribes invented a new diacritic that they called the “kipsatsta” or “suppression marker”, that indicates the syllable is missing a vowel. The other major problem was that Ilothwii had a large number of sounds that had no obvious counterparts in Nekāchti, and therefore the scribes had no way to represent them. Some of these sounds were dealt with by borrowing additional characters from Edun, yielding glyphs for /ŋ/, /dʒ/, /ʃ/, and the isolated form of the /u/ vowel, and for /u/’s corresponding diacritic, it was easy enough to invent a new marker based on how the system worked already. And since Ilothwii doesn’t have the /e/ vowel, its corresponding glyphs in the Nekāchti script could instead be used to represent Ilothwii’s central vowels. For most of the remaining sounds, the scribes modified some of the existing characters by introducing another diacritic, marking them as ilothwii-specific variants of those sounds. The only remaining sound was the glottal stop, which the scribes interpreted as the absence of a consonant rather than a consonant in its own right, and therefore, the kipsatsta, while signifying a missing vowel when used as a diacritic, can also be used to transcribe a missing consonant when placed in onset or coda position. The resulting system, while a bit clunky, worked well enough, and was adopted by the nhlogqwa islanders soon after it was introduced. Over the next few centuries, the Edun glyphs used in the nekachti script began to simplify, which was accompanied by the blending together of the individual components of each syllable block into ligatures. This simplification happened independently in many other languages across thirea, including Ilothwii, but unlike Nekachti, Ilothwii has retained a much more angular aesthetic and the onset and coda characters are most often still distinct from each other. In terms of grammar, Ilothwii is pretty definitively polysynthetic and very strongly head-marking, featuring polypersonal agreement, obviation, and whole lot of noun incorporation. First of all, let’s talk about nouns. Nouns take no marking for case, number, gender, definiteness, or basically anything else, other than agreeing with their possessors in person and number. Okay, now that we’ve talked about nouns, let’s talk about verbs. Verbs in Ilothwii can get pretty darn complicated. To begin with, all verbs are divided into three classes based on lexical aspect. Momentaneous verbs are verbs that occur, for all intents and purposes, instantaneously or within a single point in time. Durative verbs occur over an indefinite but limited span of time, and stative verbs, as you might expect, are intransitive verbs that describe states of being without any clearly defined endpoint. Some derivational affixes can cause verbs to change between classes, like, for example, applying the causative suffix to “mu’”, “to sleep” creates the verb “mu’gqa”, “to put to sleep”, which converts the root’s class from durative to momentaneous. These three classes interface with five different primary verbal aspects or “modes”: the perfective, imperfective, habitual, future, and irrealis. However, the exact meaning conveyed by of each of these modes depends on the class of the verb they’re applied to. For instance, momentaneous verbs, like “tlwi”, “to punch”, are, in a way, inherently perfective, so when placed in the imperfective, the action is most often interpreted as taking place multiple times, so “gqëtlwilu” means something like “I punched it over and over again”. Whereas durative verbs, like “mu’”, “to sleep”, are already implied to take place over a duration even in the perfective mode, so placing them in the imperfective mode highlights the fact that the action is incomplete or is still in the process of occurring, so “gqëmu’lu” means something like “I’m still sleeping” or “I haven’t finished sleeping yet”. Likewise, stative verbs, like “thli”, to be cold, essentially occur over an unlimited duration, so in the imperfective, they take on an inchoative meaning, implying the state hasn’t been reached yet, so “qthlilu” means “I am becoming cold”. Also, since stative verbs are already implied to take place often or customarily by their very nature, applying the habitual mode wouldn’t really change the meaning in any way, so combining the two is considered ungrammatical. The five modes are complemented by a large array of additional aspectual affixes, with the specific meaning of each one depending on the class and mode of the verb that it’s paired with. For example, in the perfective mode, applying the prefix “ya-” to a momentaneous verb creates a semeliterative meaning, or single repetition of the action, whereas the same prefix applied to a durative verb is interpreted as a resumptive, signifying a continuation of the action after a pause or hiatus, and for stative verbs, the same prefix encodes a reversionary meaning, or a return to the state described by the verb. Many of these aspectual affixes can be combined with each other and with various other affixes that convey mood and valency to express some very precise and specific meanings. But the complexity doesn’t stop there. Throughout its history Ilothwii has been extremely fond of noun incorporation, which operates on both a lexical and discourse level, so if any of the arguments have already been introduced and can be understood from context, or if they’re just not particularly relevant to the conversation, they can be backgrounded by being shoved inside the verb complex. Over the eons, some of the more commonly incorporated words and phrases have shortened into a system of prefixes that can classify one or more of the arguments, as well as the instrument with which the action is carried out, or the direction, location, or even the manner of the action. Many verbs are required to take one or more of these classifiers in order to make sense. For instance, simply saying “qthathra”, “I gave it to you”, is ungrammatical. Even if we specify what’s being given, something like “qthathra lu’umgqa”, “I gave you a fish”, it would still be incorrect, because the verb “to give” can’t occur without a classifier that specifies the properties of what’s being given. In this case, assuming the fish is alive and intact, the verb is required to take the small animal classifier ‘tli-’, so the sentence literally means “I small-animal-give to you by means of a fish”. Note that in this particular case, the classifier acts as a sort of valency-changing operation, promoting what is functionally the indirect object, the person to whom the fish is given, to the status of direct object, which is reflected in the person marking, and the original direct object can be either reintroduced with an adpositional phrase, or, if it’s not especially relevant, we could incorporate it into the verb, or with sufficient context, we could even just get rid of it entirely. In this sentence, because the classifier relates to the direct object, it’s rendered in the so-called “direct” form, which specifically applies to the verb’s core arguments, usually the direct object in transitive verbs and the subject in intransitive verbs. Many classifiers also have an instrumental form to indicate the means by which the action is carried out. In our earlier sentence, if the fish is being directly handed from one person to the other, the speaker might use the “by hand” classifier, or if the fish is inside a small container or bag, one might use the “handheld tool” classifier, or if the fish is on the end of a fishing line, one might use the long, slender object classifier. Some classifiers also have a locative form, that describes the location or position of the action, turning a sentence like “Gqngwë’ookhlu tla’i”, “I am throwing stones” into “Gqëkshingwë’ookhlu tla’i”, “I am throwing stones in or at the fire”, or “Gqëthngwë’ookhlu tla’i”, “I am throwing stones in or at the water”. Somewhat confusingly, though, many verbs of motion take the location or destination of motion as the direct object, and therefore the direct form of the classifier is used instead of the locative classifier as one might expect. The locative classifiers are very frequently combined with the andative or venitive suffixes, which specify the direction of motion away from or toward the referent respectively, so one could say something like “Gqëthngwë’ookhthaalu tla’i”, “I throw stones into the water”, or “Gqëthngwë’ookhyolu tla’i”, “I throw stones away from or out of the water”. These classifiers are immensely useful when it comes to derivation; a very simple root can convey some very disparate meanings depending on which classifiers it’s combined with. For instance, the verb root meaning “to split” or “to divide” can be combined with the direct form of the long slender object classifier to mean “to snap or break a rope or something of a similar shape”, and applying the instrumental classifier for handheld tools on top of that yields a meaning of “to cut through or sever a long, thin object”. Alternatively, when the andative suffix is applied to the same root, the meaning becomes “to split from” or “to separate from”, which in the mediopassive becomes “to be separated or apart from”, and adding an instrumental classifier, like for example the by-water classifier, identifies the means of separation. These sorts of derivational processes very often involve a lot of metaphorical extension. For example, the instrumental form of the water classifier can be also be used to mean “in a spilling or seeping manner”, which can be used to describe multidirectional or amorphous movement, such as that of low vegetation, diseases, or even rumors and hearsay. With the exception of a small number of adverbial proclitics, the person-markers precede all other elements of the verb complex. The markers include a unique form for the first person inclusive dual, that is “you and I”, and the third person markers have separate forms for proximate and obviate arguments. In any verb phrase with more than one third person argument, the speaker must designate one of them as proximate, and all other 3rd person arguments are considered obviate, or background information that’s less salient than the proximate argument. There’s also a separate marker for indefinite or unknown arguments, which is frequently used as a sort of antipassive or mediopassive. The order in which the person markers occur relative to each other is based not on their grammatical role, but rather on their positions on the person hierarchy. The implicit assumption in transitive sentences is that whichever argument is higher on the hierarchy is the subject, and the other argument is therefore the object, but if this isn’t the case, an inverse marker is added to the very end of the verb complex to signify that the expected roles have been reversed. If the subject is simultaneously the agent and patient of the verb, the person marker is immediately followed by a reflexive marker, which when reduplicated is interpreted as a reciprocal. Only 2nd person distinguishes separate forms for singular and plural arguments. For all other persons, if either one or both of the arguments is plural, a “distributive plural” marker can be inserted just before the mode suffix. With all of these elements together, a single verb can encode a very complex meaning that would be represented by an entire sentence in a less synthetic language. Verbs also fill all the functions of adjectives, either by being used on their own as predicates or by being given a suffix to turn them into a relative clause, which can then be placed immediately adjacent to nouns to modify them in the same way as attributive adjectives, or, once again, the noun can be incorporated into the adjective, which can then be used on its own as an independent noun. Generally, Ilothwii is very happy to zero-derive nouns from certain verb forms; placing a momentaneous or durative verb in the 3rd person habitual form allows it to be used as an agent noun, and applying the mediopassive participle creates either an abstract or patientive noun. These sorts of strategies are used so routinely that nouns that don’t derive from verbs in some way are comparatively quite rare. Conversely, any noun can be used as a predicate by applying the copula as a suffix and then conjugating the resulting verb accordingly. When Ilothwii does resort to using more than one word in a phrase, the order the words can come in is pretty flexible. In noun phrases, the order is generally head-final; attributive adjectives, or rather the relativized verbs that do the job of attributive adjectives, can come either before or after the nouns they modify as the speaker chooses, while possessors most often precede the nouns they possess, and postpositions exclusively follow nouns, although more often than not, postpositions don’t occur as independent words, instead attaching to the preceding nouns as enclitics. At the clause level, word order is mainly contingent on focus and salience. Generally, proximate nouns go before the verb while obviate and inanimate nouns go after it, with the proviso that non-salient elements tend to get sucked into the verb complex anyway. Typically, whichever argument is chosen as proximate will remain so for long stretches of the discourse, until some newly introduced item becomes more salient. This system of information structure is one of the biggest points of departure between Ilothwii and the languages of the mainland, and, along with its sheer remoteness and isolation, has contributed to its reputation of strangeness and mystery. Although Ilothwii has never had more than a few hundred thousand speakers at any given point in its history, it has hardly changed at all over millennia, and the people of the nhlogqwa islands embrace and cherish it as an important aspect of their cultural identity, so it will doubtlessly live on well into the future, clinging to existence before the walls of shadow at the very edge of the world. So, those are some of the basic features of Ilothwii. Like I said, it took me a long time and many failed attempts to get it right, and even now it’s nowhere near complete, but if you’re making your own conlang, one thing that might help streamline things for you is Campfire. Campfire is a writing and worldbuilding software designed to help you plan out and organize all the details of your story and the world in which it takes place. In addition to tools for tracking narrative elements like character arcs, relationships, and plotlines, Campfire Pro can help you manage aspects of your setting with timelines, maps, and encyclopedia entries, but the new worldbuilding pack takes things to the next level, with pages for cultures, species, religions, and possibly my personal favorite feature, an entire section specifically for documenting conlangs. It’s got separate tabs for your language’s phonetics, grammar, dictionary, and even pragmatics, which I especially appreciate, as well as the ability to add and modify extra panels within each section to catalog even more information. And let me tell you, it’s a lot more satisfying and convenient than spreadsheets and word documents. Campfire Pro is available for a one-time purchase of $49.99 USD plus $24.99 for the Worldbuilding Pack. To pick up Campfire Pro or to learn more, check out the link in the description. Until next time… Qlalmili’thughan!
Info
Channel: undefined
Views: 59,134
Rating: 4.9741378 out of 5
Keywords: Conlang
Id: VpXsrBd2xn8
Channel Id: undefined
Length: 20min 24sec (1224 seconds)
Published: Tue Jun 09 2020
Related Videos
Note
Please note that this website is currently a work in progress! Lots of interesting data and statistics to come.