Six Tips for Creating a Magic System
I love thinking about a world's magic, and it can be overwhelming to develop your own from scratch, so here are some steps you can follow to help you brainstorm!
1. Pick your point on the spectrum.
Magic systems are often divided into two categories:
Hard magic systems have defined rules and clear boundaries. Usually, these rules are unbreakable and the reader intimately understands how the magic works (e.g. Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Fullmetal Alchemist).
Soft magic systems don't have hard and fast rules. Magic is left undefined and mysterious. The reader can see it in action, but often isn't aware of its inner workings (e.g. The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien, Star Wars, Old Magic by Patricia McKillip).
The terms hard and soft were popularized by Brandon Sanderson, a fantasy author known for his hard magic systems. Sanderson has created a few "laws" that are useful to understand when brainstorming your novel's magic. To determine where your system falls on the spectrum (and it doesn't have to be totally hard or soft—it can be somewhere in between), consider Sanderson's first law:
"An author's ability to solve conflict with magic is directly proportional to how well the reader understands said magic." [source]
Avatar: The Last Airbender falls closer to the hard end of the magic scale, because we know a variety of things about bending. For example, magic users can only bend one element—fire, earth, water, or air. The one exception is the Avatar, who can bend all four. Toph is an earthbender, and we've seen her move rocks and cause the ground to shake, so when Sokka falls into a crack in the ground and gets stuck, it's perfectly reasonable that she can use her powers to get him out.
But having a mage jump in and save the day when their powers aren't clearly defined runs the risk of deus ex machina—when a seemingly impossible problem is suddenly solved by the appearance of a random person, object, or event. Without understandable consequences, constraints, and the real chance of failure, readers may feel cheated and tension is lowered. The major conflict doesn't seem that major at all if it's easily solved by magic the readers were previously unaware of.
On the other hand, if magic is more of a backdrop and isn't used to solve major conflicts, it isn't necessary to explain. Gandalf doesn't use his magic to destroy the One Ring, so we don't need to know the nuts and bolts of how his powers work.
2. Define the limits of magic.
This brings us to Sanderson's second law:
"Limitations > Powers." [source]
Solving all problems with magic is uninteresting. This is why I think Superman is boring—because he has abilities that make him near-invincible. Sanderson (who is less critical of the Man of Steel) suggests that Superman's weaknesses—his code of ethics and sensitivity to kryptonite—are what make him interesting.
Regardless of whether you're using a hard or soft magic system, make sure your characters have limitations. It is often the cost of magic that makes it interesting, rather than the abilities it grants your characters. It is usually the weaknesses of your characters and how they overcome them that make them heroic, not their powers.
Aang from Avatar: The Last Airbender has many challenges to overcome in the series, even though he's the Avatar and able to use all four elements. His weaknesses include his difficulty learning earthbending, naivete, and uncertainty. You could also argue that his morality and unwillingness to kill his enemies are weaknesses, though I, personally, think those are strengths.
On the lighter side of things, magic in the Disney movie The Sword in the Stone largely revolves around turning people into animals (though it can do lots of other things as well, such as washing dishes and packing the contents of a room into a small bag). When Merlin and Madam Mim engage in a wizard duel, Mim imposes three rules: they aren't allowed to turn into minerals or vegetables—only animals; they aren't allowed to turn into mythical creatures; and they aren't allowed to go invisible. Mim, the "evil" character, breaks all her own rules, but Merlin still manages to beat her while following the limits she set, which is immensely satisfying to watch.
3. Define the costs and consequences of magic.
In the Dragon Age video game series, blood magic is a school of forbidden power in which blood fuels spellcasting. It is often used in violent ways, to dominate or corrupt others. Using blood magic doesn't mean you're evil, but one of the few ways to learn it is by summoning a demon, which runs the risk of the demon possessing you. Talk about potential consequences!
The more specific you can be about magic's rules, the more possibilities open up for the story. Try brainstorming a list of all your ideas for how magic could work. For example, let's explore the idea of blood magic in some ways that Dragon Age does not. If blood is required to cast spells, that could mean any of the following:
A mage pricks their finger to cast a small spell, but makes deeper cuts for bigger spells. Thus, the more scars a mage has, the more powerful they are perceived to be.
A mage sacrifices an animal to cast a spell, and many decorate themselves with pieces of the animals they've killed (teeth necklaces, cloaks made of hide, etc.).
A mage cuts someone else to cast a spell, making slave trade common in magical societies, because mages need living bodies to mutilate.
A mage kills someone else to cast a spell; thus, mages are feared and distrusted.
Notice how defining costs can also inform the societies and cultures of your world and how magic-users are perceived.
4. Brainstorm a source.
Where does magic originate? Is it elemental? Does it come from our world or a dimension beyond? Is it a gift from gods—or a curse from demons?
Go as in-depth or as surface-level as you want. For example, in many series, the "source" of magic is simply something inside people but not in others, and mages use tools like wands or staffs to cast spells. If that's as deep as you want to go, that's all you need.
The source of magic in your story could be an all-surrounding energy, like the Force in Star Wars. It could come from certain elements, like the four in Avatar: The Last Airbender or the metals in Brandon Sanderon's Mistborn series. It could be based on music, colour, nature, light, time, space, or something abstract. Or it could be a mystery!
5. Name your mages and their place in society.
What are magic users called? Wizards? Druids? Elementalists? Something unique to your story?
Is there a select caste of magic users in your world? Is it hereditary or can everyone in your world perform magic? Is magic frowned upon or considered a gift? Rare or common-place? Public knowledge or well-kept secret? Legal or illegal? Are there magical societies, schools, or ranks? Is there a uniform, colour code, or distinguishing physical feature that differentiates magic users?
The answers to many of these questions will be determined by your word's history and will influence its cultures. Brainstorm key historical events that are molded by the lack or use of magic. For example, if mages tried to take over a country by force and lost the war, how are they treated now? It is also unlikely that your entire world will view magic users in the same light. Some countries might revere them while others fear them.
6. Reveal details slowly.
With hard magic systems, let your reader know the ground rules. Of course, you don't need to dump the whole system on them at once. Let them learn organically. Often this can be done effectively if the story follows a new mage who is learning the ropes. Here, Sanderson's third law comes in handy:
"Expand what you already have before you add something new." [source]
In The Final Empire, Sanderson introduces the basics of Mistborn's magic system, Allomancy, slowly. At first, all we know is that Vin is "lucky," because that's all she knows. Then, as Vin slowly gains knowledge about the magic—that there are eight basic Allomantic metals, that they're each associated with a different ability (such as pushing or pulling on emotions), that most allomancers can only burn one metal and use its associated power, but mistborn can burn all of them—we learn along with her.
Details of the magic continue to be revealed throughout the story—such as [MINOR SPOILER] how there are actually more than eight metals and how allomancers came to exist in the first place. Sanderson doesn't pile on everything at once, and slowly revealing facts about magic adds tension and mystery to the story.
I hope these six steps get the gears turning. Stay tuned for next month's newsletter, in which I will go into ten categories and examples of magic systems for your inspiration!
These steps are taken from a chapter of Making Myths and Magic: A Field Guide to Writing Sci-Fi and Fantasy Novels, which I co-wrote with fantasy author Shelly Campbell. I lightly edited the text for the new format. Get a copy of the book here.
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