Just one more thing, no "balance". You have Forn upset about balance or something. You're either the 2nd or 3rd person this week to bust out that word like it actually means something profound. It does not. It's a code word for "some bullcrap that's supposed to be important or something".

Also, this is a small detail but, please don't say "balance". You're the 2nd or 3rd person with a story involving someone upset about "balance" here this week. It doesn't really mean anything. I'll spare you the essay on why, the upshot is that it has nothing to do with the rest of your story and is just a filler-word that means "some thing that sounds important or something".

"[color="#1C2837"]it's not confusing. It's confused as in I can follow it but what you are saying is not coherent as a complete structure."

[color="#1C2837"]It's a lot of junk as-is, but it could be a seed for something. Sometimes it's important to throw art at a wall and see what sticks to figure out what you're doing. This:

[color="#1C2837"]"[color="#1C2837"]Wouldn't there be a negative social effect that accompanied being given everything for free? ...[color="#1C2837"] isn't free time so much sweeter when you've been working your ass off all day? I do feel moved by the idea of a thriving society ... good hard work ... the tragedy of them being influenced by the modern world"

[color="#1C2837"]^^^ This strikes me as what it's really about. If the OP did not think about that, but understands it now, he can begin to build a story.

Sorry for not explaining, but the false angel is to make a reappearance.
An idea I'm throwing up is that he was engineered deep underground, in some incredible ceremonial chamber.
Of course the incredible ceremonial part is because of the dictators fancy. He wants his lie to be as genuine as possible.

Lets say this chamber isn't completely destroyed in the cataclysm, just roughed up a bit.

Now lets say that alongside this chamber, he fabricates a part of his religion that says that 'An angel will come forth and hack & slash sinners and unbelievers'
He creates all this scripture for Gabriel, and writes it on the walls of the chamber.

Now people from the current world of story find the chamber, decipher what they can. These people feel abandoned by their own god, Forn, and as they start to read up on what they can find, they start to fill in the blanks themselves, and being easily swayed they start to believe.

That's a 'what I've got so far' in terms of the angel.

Sorry for not explaining, but the false angel is to make a reappearance.
An idea I'm throwing up is that he was engineered deep underground, in some incredible ceremonial chamber.
Of course the incredible ceremonial part is because of the dictators fancy. He wants his lie to be as genuine as possible.

Lets say this chamber isn't completely destroyed in the cataclysm, just roughed up a bit.

Now lets say that alongside this chamber, he fabricates a part of his religion that says that 'An angel will come forth and hack & slash sinners and unbelievers'
He creates all this scripture for Gabriel, and writes it on the walls of the chamber.

Now people from the current world of story find the chamber, decipher what they can. These people feel abandoned by their own god, Forn, and as they start to read up on what they can find, they start to fill in the blanks themselves, and being easily swayed they start to believe.

That's a 'what I've got so far' in terms of the angel.

the angel would be found long before the translation happened...

Also we have the conflict of Forn for religion or against it? You're story seems to point to he's against it, but you come across as it's a bad thing that religions are largely forgotten...and if religions are largely forgotten and Forn likes this they are more likely to figure that the angel is a regular biological being or a mechanical one.

Again it's incoherent.

It seems to me that you don't have a clear vision of what you are going for and you aren't good enough to wing it.


Here's what you do
First off, right everything about the world that you can possibly think of down from how magic works to the way the governments of the 3 cities work, their history, their general beliefs and divide them into pertinent categories like "how magic works" "city 1" "city 2" "new race"

After that right down every thing you can about all the characters that are important to this story you are trying to write. Short precise information in profile type form as in...
Name = Bob
Race = Human
Eye color = blue
hair = short black with orange highlights
magical powers = none
city of origin = Calsatropia
Physical markings or piercing = Tattoo on his back of dagon
Favorite food = Cats
Favorite weapon = dogs
Favorite fighting style = Sneezing Bear
Personality = Slacker
Background = Bob grew up in Calsatropia, yearning for adventure, but as years went by his dreams faded and he became the city's most notorious belligerent drunk until one day Frank Cocaro challenged him to a fight that he lost. Since that day Bob has followed Frank which has lead Bob into worse and worse situations...They're now on the run from the law, because the law wants their heads.

Write a general synopsis of what happens in your story. Not the background. What is the goal of the characters in your story and what do they need to do to accomplish that.


Once you are at this point you'll notice things are not working or you need some more info here or there or you don't need this or that info. Discard and add what you need based on the story and the characters you've created.

I say story and characters you created because I think there are two types of writers out there... those that write the characters and the characters inform the story and the background and those who write the background and from that background emerges the characters... and I feel that your the character/story type.


I also have to point out that a good rule of thumb is don't tell people what they don't need to know. Don't concern yourself much with it because it is not important. Now here's the thing people will say, "but people will ask about that stuff" to which you can give two answers...

#1. "I don't care"
#2. Make it up, remember it, alter it or the world if it doesn't exactly fit where you can. It

I prefer #2 because I find answering questions helps me think about that and make the world a deeper place...but a lot of people don't have coherent visions of their worlds so they often can't do it on the fly so sometimes it is better to say i dont care instead of possibly giving contradictory story elements.

I would pitch a slightly different approach, but just to be clear, I would agree 100% that what you have in front of you is sorta junk and you need to start writing from an individual perspective.


I pitch the following:

You have a sufficiently clear mental image of the world to start winging it. I do recommend winging it. The specific details of the background and facts 'n figures of the characters are not important. You can go through the whole book without so much as mentioning their eye color, really, in fact that's usually appropriate.

But to reiterate; you need to wing it from the individual perspective.

Pick a starting point from the perspective of your main character, drop him in and see what happens. Don't procrastinate and get stuck on detailing the background because the actual writing is harder than it sounds and the background details are less important than you think. Character personal details should be made up on an as-needed basis and, if you realize something doesn't work, go back and change it. If half-way through you feel the main character needs to have a cousin Larry, by all means throw him in. If it clashes with something you wrote earlier, feel free to delete that and rewrite it.

It also works perfectly, 100% well to make up background as you go. Avoid obsessive compulsiveness because it prevents you from puking out the crap you need to puke out in order to realize what you're interested in. The flip side of this, of course, is to not love your words, characters or ideas because you will probably need to delete them in order to be competent. Throwing away junk you wrote is a key part of winging it.

I have a story in the other window that I'm trying to finish that has 97 thousand words, a figure that excludes at least 30 to 50 thousand that were deleted and rewritten. Sometimes over and over again, including about 10 false starts which were typically axed around the 500 word mark. This represents about 3-4 months of work.

Again, you need to get started because you don't really get the implications of your background crafting until you're writing the actual story. You may quickly discover that your world fundamentally clashes with the kind of individual story you want to tell. Mine initially started with some people in a fort in a large forest that had a road going through it, and a developed world, then inverted to a city in a forest that had no contact with anyone.

I'd also like to note, as a general rule, that if you have an RPG epic idea, and have never made a game before, than you are not about to turn this into a game. (Your situation is extremely typical and I've been there before too.) Thus I recommend you just start typing it in prose. Just go until you feel like you're done.

Afterwards you will do something else. Do not fail to have a subsequent work, whether you finish this one or not.

Also, final note, don't worry too much about which way you go (wing it or plan it) as long as you go.

I'll stick to writing about the characters for a while . I've done more of that than writing of the game history, but i wanted to read some opinions on what might be a feasible history.

Thanks heaps for the advice. The hard truth of writing i think is something i needed to hear.

Something I'm very keen on now is the unfathomable nature of Forn. I can't explain why Forn does what he does, i can only speculate, and my characters can only speculate.

Excellence. I thought you had just written that! Yeah, write some real story, maybe even post it, though some folks recommend a closed door writing process to avoid comments that may hurt the process prematurely.

Anyway.

I'll make one more comment about:

"[color="#1C2837"]Something I'm very keen on now is the unfathomable nature of Forn. I can't explain why Forn does what he does, i can only speculate, and my characters can only speculate."

[color="#1C2837"]We can see that Forn is very concerned with the creatures in the story. This itself pretty strongly characterizes him, as does the fact that he doesn't want to actually destroy the creatures. If Forn were happy to wipe everyone out and try again it hints at a very different thing. It also hints at a limited entity; neither omniscient nor omnipotent.

[color="#1C2837"]It's clearly a parallel to the Christian God, but that we don't have any presuppositions means we can more clearly explore its character as above. Without making declarations like "he is all powerful and all knowing!" you've written some actions and we can go back and see what they really say about the character.

[font="Tahoma"][font="Tahoma"]This is a bit of story i wrote a while back. The second of 3 prototypes for the beginning of the story.[/font]
[/font]

[font="Tahoma"]Enjoy.

Comments/Criticism welcome and appreciated.[/font]

It was one of many cold nights in the city of Jackson. Snow danced from the sky and settled on the rooftops, and a blue wind chilled the hearts and minds of all those walking the street. It had been an unnaturally long winter, and they were only growing longer with each passing year. In fact, for a region so close to the desert lands, the winter itself was unnatural.

The city itself was split into quarters, not by walls, but by status. An idea of social eminence imposed by a late Kaiser (King) had put people in their place, so to say. The repercussion was that some quarters of the city thrived, while the others were diminished by poverty and crime.

In the far south-east quarter, sitting tiredly against the outer wall of the city, stood the Suns Orphanage. The building and its inhabitants were long forgotten by those who governed the city, and it was sustained only by the stubborness of one man, James Bjørnar.

The man stood alone in his office, clasping a bottle. Despite his drunken state, he couldn't take his mind off the turmoil in his mind. He felt wasted here, looking after these abandoned children. It'd been a long time since he'd felt the compassion that made him take on the position, but now only a blatant sense of what is right kept him from taking his coat and walking out the front door.

The children, he knew, could sense his frustration. They were quiet spoken, and fearful even. One thing that pained him more than his regret was that the lives he guarded could not appreciate it. He took a deep swig from his bottle, and stared blankly. After a few moments his face crinkled into lines of misery and he dropped to his knees, sobbing.

In a cold room upstairs, two children shivered in their beds. One stared at the ceiling, blowing plumes of steam into the air, while the other gazed at the pitiful flame that burns valiantly against the dark. They could faintly hear the man downstairs, crying in the late hours of the night.

A loud crash echoed from downstairs, rousing them. They both looked to the door and, ready to feign sleep, should he come checking their rooms. After waiting for a few tense moments, then turn back to their freezing vigil.
“Os, can you still do it?” Quietly asked Vegard, the older brother.

“I think it’s too cold”, whispered Osmond, shuffling out of his blanket and holding up his hands.
He shut his eyes and sat quietly for a moment, his brow crinkling as he concentrated.

Slowly but surely, ribbons of heat curled upwards from his fingers. As numb as they were, both brothers felt rising heat in the room.
‘Kult’, remarked Osmond.

Another crash echoed through the floor from downstairs. The warmth emanating from his hand disappeared, and the room was cold again. ‘Asshole’ thought Osmond, frowning. He pulled his blanket around himself and shivered.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting, then Vegard's stomach rumbled.

“Are you hungry”, asked Osmond, looking over.
“Yes”, replied Vegard, with a wide yawn.
Osmond leaned his head back, and shut his eyes again. A few moments later, A floorboard creaked and he looked over to see Vegard stepping quietly to the door. “What are you doing?!” Osmond hissed.
“He’s been quiet for a while, he probably went to bed.” Said the older brother, listening at the door. He turned the doorknob quietly and inched it open, checking the hallway. “What if he’s still awake?” Asked Osmond fearfully. Halfway out the door, Vegard looked back briefly. “I’ll be fine”, then disappeared into the hall.

‘I hope he’s asleep’ thought Vegard, as he tip-toed down the hallway, avoiding the loose floorboards with his numb feet. He reached the staircase and peered down, and saw the light from the carer’s office. Despite the danger, he began to creep down the stairs, and hopped over a toy train left fatally at the first step.

Sneaking through the landing into the kitchen, he searched the kitchen quietly for a scrap of food. He grabbed what remained of a loaf from the kitchen bench, and upon hearing the carer moving around again, he rushed back to the stairs. Forgetting the toy on the floor, he kicked it over and sprinted up the stairs as its noisy rattle echoed through the house.

Osmond sat in his bed, listening intently to what might be happening downstairs. Suddenly, he heard someone running down the hallway. Vegard burst into the room and threw something under the bed; then shut the door and listened quietly against the wood.
“He was awake” revealed Vegard.

“Idiot” repeated Osmond ruefully. They listened as the carer stormed up the stairs and yelled down the hallway. They heard a door open to one of the other orphans rooms, and murmuring.

After a few second hoarse yells echoed down the hallway, accompanied by a young girls voice. Osmond realized suddenly that he was yelling at Saga, a girl he had a growing crush on. Osmond ran to the door, and angrily burst onto the landing “Don’t touch her, asshole!” He yelled heroically through the house. A few doors along the hall opened fractionally, as other orphans wondered tiredly what the racket was. James looked down the hall hazily at Osmond, and then he turned from the girls doorway and walked purposely towards him. “Was it you then?!” He growls, stumbling briefly. His angry eyes came into focus, as he drew nearer.
"Did you not hear when i said go to bed?! DID YOU NOT?!".

Osmond stood terrified and defiant in the doorway, victim to his own heroism. As the carer bared down on him, a pillow flew over Osmond's head and slapped James in the face with a slight thump. Vegard dashed past Osmond and threw a kick into the man's shins. As a very drunken James collapsed to his knees, grunting in pain, Vegard delivered a clumsy kick to the side his head and turned back to Osmond. "Come on!" He yelled. Osmond eyes widened fearfully, then swallowing his fear he ran and leaping over James, avoiding a slightly flailing arm. As they ran by Saga's room Osmond glanced in and briefly saw her crying face.