Patten: Does your magic system ruin a good story?

Your heroes have reached a tight spot. They are surrounded by hungry goblins and have no way to escape.

Suddenly our very capable wizard conjures a giant fireball and BAM! Problem solved. (Barbecue, anyone?)

One of the trickiest tasks in creating your fantasy or science fiction world is crafting its magic (for the sake of simplicity, by “magic,” I also mean technology here.) You will be tempted to use it as stuffing in your plot holes or as a quick cure for writer’s block.

In the example above, our characters might have gotten out of the situation with ease, but you haven’t. Your magic system is convenient and uncreative, and the overall work suffers because of it.

To design an interesting magic system, you need to start not with what it can do but what it can’t.

In other words, make limitations and costs before anything else.

The Disney movie “Aladdin” is a star example of this. It even includes a scene whose sole purpose is to tell the limits – three wishes only, no making anyone fall in love with you, no killing anyone and no raising anyone from the dead. And genies themselves are bound to their lamps unless someone wishes them free.

These limitations in the “Arabian Nights” version of the story play a substantial role in the plot, and the movie would fall apart without them. The three-wishes thing (that is, the cost of the magic) makes Aladdin think twice before he has the Genie do anything. And when Aladdin defeats Jafar, he tricks the wicked vizier into hitting one of these limits – all without the story straying outside of the rules it established.

How would you have felt if at the movie’s climax Aladdin stumbled across a magic sword capable of killing genies and ended Jafar in a single swoop? Or if the Genie said, “Hey, Al, since you’re a nice guy, forget what I said — here’s a fourth wish. Enjoy it!”

Not every story or game needs to set limits so explicitly. In “The Lord of the Rings,” for instance, we never know exactly what wizards like Gandalf can do (as opposed to the Genie in the “Aladdin” film). But Tolkien’s approach works because Gandalf rarely uses magic at all. The effect of all this is a sense that “unimaginable powers (are) surging and moving beyond our sight,” says fantasy author Brandon Sanderson.

It is up to you how much magic you are going to have on stage.

The important thing here is that magic isn’t a crutch. It should enhance your world and plot.

Let’s go back to our surrounded-by-goblins example. What if we really wanted our wizard to be able to make gigantic fireballs? She could indeed do so! Some possibilities:

• She regularly blacks out after performing a spell, often leaving her companions in a worse situation than before.
• The spell summons a fireball — but also an angry demon. Again, now our heroes are in another bad situation, which is much more exciting than a clean escape.
• The spell takes years off her life – she won’t be so eager to use it whenever there’s trouble.
• The spell backfires because although the magic itself is incredibly powerful, our wizard isn’t as skilled as she thinks. Unintended destruction ensues. (Did I do that?) Asking her to perform any spell is something her friends do in absolute desperation. In this case, the limitations are not inherent in the magic but the user.

In a game, you have additional things to worry about. Here are a few:

• Is it visual? Does the player know when it’s happening?
• How does magic affect the game’s pacing? Does gaining magic mean grinding? That is, do you simply grow in power by fighting an endless stream of kobolds and leveling up, thus gaining access to more spells?
• Or does it make things go too fast? If the player knows what spells to acquire, will your game be beaten in five minutes?
• If applicable, can characters without magic win your game?
• Is there variety in what magic users can do? If the only options in your spellbooks are bigger and better explosions, you are only getting more boring in more spectacular ways.
• On the other hand, have you appropriately narrowed down the amount of things a magical character can do? A healer might be great at repairing health but probably shouldn’t be shooting lightning bolts. A healer could more believably attack the enemy with plagues and poisons, however.
• How do you put limits on magic users’ powers? Spell points? One-time-use scrolls? Perhaps every time magic is used, the player’s health (or other attribute) is reduced?
• Is it fun? This is the No. 1 question you need to ask. None of my recommendations are actual rules except for this one.

Here’s an example of a simple magic system that is almost good enough:

In the mobile action RPG “Swordigo,” our blue-haired hero is capable of casting blue fireballs and summoning bombs. The limitation here is the magic meter (the blue bar at the upper right). If you run out of magic energy, you can’t cast spells. I understand why this is in place – why use your sword when you can shoot at everything? So far so good.

But the magic meter only recharges in real time and with the occasional power-up (if you are lucky enough to find one). This means to advance in certain parts of the game where you need a bomb or fireball, if your meter is low and no power-ups are in sight, you have to find a safe place for Blue to recharge. And you … wait. What’s on the TV, anyway?

(Magic could possibly integrate better with the gameplay if the meter would charge as you inflict damage on enemies. This would force you to use both magic and swordplay effectively. But that’s just one alternative to the current system.)

Remember: No one cares how cool your characters are or what mad skills they may have. People read stories and play games to experience struggle. Like all elements of your work, magic’s purpose should be to draw people in, not push them out.

Next week: Monsters!

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