A
beginning is a very delicate time. Now this can be said of any great endeavor,
but it’s especially true in the construction of a fictional realm, planet or universe. The process of worldbuilding is unique in
that when you’re just getting started, everything is open to you. What you create can be as small or as big,
as shallow or as deep, as realistic or fantastical as you like. In everything from the laws of physics, the
arrangement of continents, the layout of cities, or maybe just the best method of cooking rice,
you have the final say. The only limits are the ones you impose on
yourself. But limits and rules aren’t a bad thing. They contain your ideas, turn a floating mess
of concepts into something with structure and consistency. They can give you a framework to operate within,
or expectations to knowingly subvert. And when you’re just starting a worldbuilding
project, literally day zero, first time putting pen to paper, one of the biggest limitations
you’ll probably need to improse upon yourself, or at least seriously start considering is,
what genre is the world you’re building? So in this episode of the Way of Worldbuilding,
we’ll be talking all about genres. We’ll start with why they’re important,
their limitations, and then move on to a quick overview of the two, sometimes three genres
most closely associated with worldbuilding. Then, we’ll discuss the six hundred sub-genres
people have invented because they were not satisfied with those first three. After that, we’ll get a bit more granular
and look at some popular dichotomies that have emerged, in the discussion of genre,
specifically hard science fiction vs soft science fiction, and low fantasy vs high fantasy. Ok so genre, I don’t think we need to review
the history of the term or go over its definition. If you’re interested in worldbuilding, I’m
willing to bet you understand well enough what genre is. But why is it important? It comes down to one major reason: Life is
a mixture of chaos and suffering and stuffing everything into categories makes the unpredictability
of existence more tolerable. If after a long day, I just want to lose myself
in a book, a tv show, a game, whatever, I may not know exactly what I’m looking for,
I do know what I like. In those cases it's a lot easier to just search
for “kaiju” rather than going through every piece of media ever made to figure out
which ones feature giant monsters. Genre lets you know what to expect. So when you’re worldbuilding, it can be
helpful to look at each genre like a template. Every single one has its own conventions,
cliches and tropes and they can become a familiar foundation to build off of. If I’m trying to make my own kaiju cinematic
universe for example, then I know right away I’m probably going to need a gigantic creature
of some sort, and maybe a region of the world that’s constantly attacked by it. Now already we have a list of things we can
start thinking about. Where’d this creature come from? What part of the world is it active within? How does the international community respond
to this new threat? Are they creating some new agency to deal
with giant monsters? Does that agency have giant robots? And so on and so on. Simply by looking at the staples of the genre,
now I have a bunch of elements I can start thinking about during my worldbuilding process. Of course, genre can also be a prison. In coming up with all the lore for my kaiju
cinematic universe I might start to feel constrained and begin to put my own stamp on things. Changing or outright subverting the tropes
of a genre can be a good way to keep things fresh and original, but deviate too far from
the template each genre provides and your audience might feel misled and cheated. 1998’s You’ve Got Mail is a tremendous
romantic comedy featuring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan at their best, but if it was the first
movie in what was supposed to be my kaiju cinematic universe people might be confused. If I play things too safe though, and the
worldbuilding throughout my Kaiju cinematic universe is a boring retread of the same cliches
people have seen over and over again throughout the genre, then it risks becoming forgettable
or uninspiring. No matter what genre you’re worldbuilding
within, the challenge will be in striking the right balance. And where you end up on this spectrum is really
going to depend on you. I think it’s entirely possible to create
a captivating, memorable world that is entirely faithful to the conventions of its genre without
changing a single thing. And I also think that a world that subverts
every convention, that brings a feeling of unpredictability and reinvention, can rejuvenate
a tired genre and in some cases redefine it. Most of us will probably be trying to worldbuild
somewhere between those two extremes, but no matter where you are, whether you’re
honoring or subverting the expectations of a genre, it’s probably a good idea that
you understand them first. In that context, the ultimate benefit to thinking
about genre when worldbuilding isn’t that it gives you all the answers, but rather provides
a list of questions. There’s two broad genres that we tend to
associate with deep worldbuilding. Science fiction and fantasy are the most recognizable,
but if I may be so bold, I wanna add as the third major pillar: alternate history Royal Tennanbuams: Well, everyone knows Custer
died at Little Bighorn. What this book presupposes is... maybe he
didn't. But I’m gonna extend the definition of alternate
history a bit beyond its traditional confines to include fictional worlds based on our own,
whether or not there’s some major point of divergence. A show like the Office is a good example of
this. It feels weird to describe it as an alternate
history but what other genre would you use to describe the whole corporate history mythology
that’s been built up around this Scranton paper company and its employees. A less weird example is something like John
Wick. The worldbuilding surrounding the Continental
Hotel and the assassins that make use of it is every bit as deep as many science fiction
or fantasy worlds, and yet there’s no grand point of divergence that would mark it as
traditional alternate history. Still, the label makes sense to me. And as with so much in worldbuilding, it’s
important to remember that all of this exists on a spectrum. Worlds, even fictional ones, are complicated
and they might fit into multiple genres. Star Wars has elements of science fiction
and fantasy. Star Trek predicted future events that never
happened, accidentally adding elements of alternate history to its growing mythology. While the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Rick
and Morty, and so many others blend it all together into an entertaining mess. But even these three genres, spectrum or no,
doesn’t quite cover it. Aliens is definitely a science fiction story
but there’s also elements of horror. Outlander is a historical fantasy, but also
very much a romance. And this is where we begin falling down a
slippery slope into madness. Most people today recognize that Star Wars
is a bit of both fantasy and science fiction. And when it first released to theaters 1897,
that had never happened before. Nobody knew what to do, was it science fiction
or fantasy? So a group of scientists and wizards got together
and after much deliberation, they decided to call it science fantasy. And you know what, fair enough, that makes
sense, everyone was happy. But stories are complex and no genre is ever
100% accurate, so the Genre Conclave got together more and more and they just invented all sorts
of new stuff. Cyberpunk was one of their biggest hits. And that should have been warning sign, because
even then it did kinda seem like all the conventions and tropes of the Cyberpunk genre could have
fit well enough under plain ole “science fiction”, but its dystopian vision of the
future felt unique, so it didn’t seem like a big deal. But they didn’t stop there. The Conclave added Nowpunk for Cyberpunk stories
that took place in modern times, and then there was Gothic Cyberpunk which is like regular
cyberpunk but everyone is moody and there’s lots of fog. Decopunk is Cyberpunk but everyone acts like
it's the 1930s, and post-Cyberpunk is where the world is full of hackers and megacorporations,
but you know, it turns out that’s actually not so bad. The Conclave was out of control and every
genre was similarly split into hundreds of sub-genres, which in turn led to hundreds
of YouTube videos trying to explain them all. And there’s nothing inherently wrong with
this. The Conclave isn’t evil. I like it when things are sorted into these
deeply granular categories. If you want a really fun wikipedia deep dive,
check out “the list of genres” page, I guarantee you’ll find something cool you’ve
never heard of before. But I get the feeling that in some cases pioneering
a new genre has become a form of marketing rather than the most natural way to describe
some new alternate world. If you look through the science fiction and
fantasy section of books, movies, games, whatever, you’ll probably find at least a few entries
claiming to in fact be the defining masterwork of some weird sub-genre you’ve never heard
of. And some of them might be telling the truth,
but it’s enough to know that it’s science fiction, fantasy or whatever, rather than
trying to decipher what some ultra-specific sub-genre might mean. Now granted, we here at the Templin Institute
operate a YouTube channel bombarded with hundreds of comments a day, many of which turn into
discussions of genre. And this is the internet so it doesn’t take
long before those discussions descend into arguments. So it’s very possible that my continued
exposure to these arguments caused my point of view on this whole thing to become a little
warped. But from what I’m seeing, I think people
are going a bit crazy when they discuss this topic. Genres are often used as an insult, as if
calling Star Trek science fantasy rather than science fiction is somehow a reflection on
its worth as a universe. People also really love to pretend that they’re
one of the scientists or wizards in the Conclave of Genres and argue with each other on what
the proper way to classify various media is and how everyone else is getting that wrong. And if that’s how you wanna spend your time,
hell yeah, fight the good fight. But in the context of worldbuilding, I don’t
think you need to get too hung up on genre. As we discussed, it can be a great shorthand
for introducing the nature of your world. It can provide a list of questions for you
to consider and expectations to subvert or fulfill. But I think it's a mistake to treat genres
as these codified, sacred rulesets. If you’re debating whether some element
belongs in your world the decision should ultimately come down to how consistent it
feels with your vision, rather than how well it fits within a genre. This is precisely why Article 35 of the legendary
Templin Institute Code of Worldbuilding is “Don’t sweat genre”. Within certain genres though, and especially
those most associated with Worldbuilding, a few other ways have emerged in how to classify
various works. In science fiction, we have the concept of
hard vs soft. Hard science fiction focuses on scientific
accuracy rooted in plausible technological advancements, while soft science fiction is
more concerned with social, psychological or philosophical themes. Few stories are universally considered to
be one or other, with most falling somewhere in the middle. And again, there's nothing wrong with this
method. It's a useful and simple way to quickly explain
the fundamental nature of a science fiction universe to someone who might be completely
unfamiliar with it but not a stranger to the wider genre. But this method too can suffer if it's taken
too seriously. It can hit that tipping point where it's no
longer a useful guide, but this artificial boundary that can stifle the potential richness
of your world especially when it's applied unevenly. Now this might be the YouTube comment section
poisoning my mind some more, but it also seems that many people treat this like a quality
slider. Hard science fiction is more legitimate, it
resides within the realm of scientific plausibility and therefore can’t take any shortcuts in
how it portrays technology. Soft science fiction by contrast shouldn’t
be taken seriously. It’s overly philosophical with predictable
themes and isn’t “real” scifi. The worst offenders might even be downgraded
from soft sci-fi to science fantasy. For the hard-sci-fi purists, that is the ultimate
insult, a fate worse than death. It works the other way too. Soft science fiction is fun, engaging, accessible
and thematically deep. While hard sci-fi misses the point of narrative
storytelling entirely with overdeveloped technology and underdeveloped characters. It’s dry, and boring to read. The worst offenders might even be downgraded
from hard sci-fi to technical manual. For the soft sci-fi purists, this is the ultimate
insult, a fate worse than death. What makes a sci-fi universe hard or soft,
has, in most conversations I see, been distilled to just one main category: physical sciences. It all comes down to how well the warp drive
or whatever is explained and how realistic the movement of starships is according to
modern understandings of physics, chemistry, and astronomy. And while this isn’t the craziest thing
to use as a metric in the genre, it still feels kinda arbitrary and strays a bit from
what Hard Sci fi is supposed to represent. Can you imagine if the historical authenticity
of Westerns was determined solely by how realistic the mechanics of traveling by wagon was portrayed? That’s a flawed comparisonI know but I think
it serves my point well enough. Hard science fiction is rooted in scientific
accuracy. But by reducing that down only to the physical
sciences, it’s easy to forget about all the other disciplines. Let’s use the Expanse as an example. Both the books and the show are almost universally
praised for their depiction of space travel and are therefore held as the quintessential
modern archetype of hard science fiction. Even if the creators themselves are a bit
more hesitant to label it so. But in how politics, society, and military
institutions are portrayed in this universe, I think the Expanse can be as fantastical
and cartoonish as Star Wars. In its depiction of social sciences, particularly
political and military science, the Expanse a lot of the time is anything but accurate. So does this mean the Expanse actually sucks
and we need to downgrade it to science fantasy? No, I think it just means that every method
of categorizing fictional worlds is going to have its own limitations. The hard-soft axis can be a fun way to talk
about science fiction, but it's not difficult for it to become bogged down in a bunch of
muddy conflicting ideas when hard and soft become code words for good and bad or accurate
and inaccurate. The fantasy genre has its own version of this
dichotomy and it's usually expressed as High Fantasy vs Low Fantasy. High fantasy is often defined as a world in
which fantastical or supernatural elements are common and intrinsic. In a low fantasy world, these same elements
might exist, but are less-common, and they represent an intrusion into the natural world. And while interpreting science fiction through
the hard/soft lens isn’t always useful, I do think this fantasy equivalent touches
on a very important point. Let’s replace the labels High Fantasy and
Low Fantasy with Lots of Magic and Little Magic for a second. Yeah yeah, I know there’s probably a bunch
of exceptions to this, but High Fantasy generally means there’s more Magic. Now speaking personally, the more magic there
is in a universe, the less chance I’m gonna be into it and it's because a lot of fantasy
worldbuilding fails to account for this next point. At the time of recording, women in this reality
just found out how often men think about the Roman Empire, so to explain this concept,
let’s use an example from Rome. Roman concrete is this almost mythical material,
I’m not qualified to explain why, but suffice to say, certain irregularities in the Italian
peninsula, the relative abundance of materials like lime and ash, allowed the Romans to make
this incredibly resilient building material that would have been far more difficult to
produce elsewhere else. It’s an example of how small variances in
things like geology and geography can have these massive impacts that resonate across
human civilization. There are countless numbers of small details
like this and we’ll probably never fully understand how they’ve all collectively
created the world you live in today. But what happens when we have all these subtle,
natural variances and we start adding in more and more magic. If small differences in the availability of
lime can create the Roman Empire, what happens to human civilization when a percentage of
the population is given the supernatural ability to break the laws of physics? The more magic there is in a world the greater
the impossibility of answering that question. And where High Fantasy tends to lose me, is
that often the seismic impact magic would have on society is barely addressed. You can go for a walk through Skyrim and you’ll
see farmers tending the fields, blacksmiths hammering away at stuff, and it will feel
very much like medieval Europe. But in a world where any wizard might be able
to boost the fertility of a field, manipulate the weather, enhance the yield of a crop and
preserve it for far longer than would otherwise be possible, what does that do to the profession
of farmer? Do you even need farmers anymore or could
a couple wizards do the same job? Apply this same logic to blacksmiths, merchants,
every other profession, and then to every other aspect of society that something as
disruptive as magic might affect in some way, and it seems insane that Skyrim isn’t completely
alien and unrecognizable. Low Fantasy seems to acknowledge this a bit
better. In A Song of Ice and Fire, a personal favorite,
magic when it is invoked, usually causes the exact kind of seismic impact on human civilization
you would expect. And that just feels more realistic to me. Again just my opinion here, but if you’re
worldbuilding in Fantasy, figuring out how ubiquitous magic is in the world is gonna
be one of the most important steps. If you’re worldbuilding in Science Fiction,
just replay this last section, but replace magic with technology. Exact same consequences. Either way, you’ll want to decide if you
want to realistically deal with what this magic or technology would mean for the world,
or just kinda handwave it to the background. The Elder Scrolls and Skyrim is pretty popular,
so while the latter option might be preferred by me, clearly there’s room for success
through either method. And to be fair Eugh, And
in the spirit of disclosure, I haven’t actually read or watched too many works of high fantasy
beyond the staples. So if you think there’s something out there
that might change my mind, let me know in the comments. So that I hope covers the very basic fundamentals
of genre and how it can affect your worldbuilding. There’s still a lot more to cover, so if
I missed any aspect of genre that you think is important, let me know in the comment below,
maybe we’ll be able to address it later down the line. In the next episode in the Way of Worldbuilding
we’re going to be talking about the foundational pillars of your world. Knowing what genre you’re working in is
a good first step, but you likely still have a bunch of ideas swirling around in your head. Figuring out a good way to organize them can
be the first step in distilling your world down to the fundamentals. So until then, good luck and good worldbuilding.
