Random Questions Thread

Eh, I suppose it could be interpreted that way. I didn't really mean "soul" as in "spirit", but rather "life".

My personal concern with Phantomborn isn't the cliche, but that it sounds more like they're descended from phantoms rather than being dead and alive.

Your concerns are justified as it indeed sounds like that.

It was the first thing that came to mind when I saw "phantomborn" which became "people conceived by ghosts".

Edited by Trainbarrel on Apr 3rd 2024 at 4:47:11 PM

Fair points. I'll continue workshopping it.

To my mind, "Phantomsouls" brings to mind the "Soulslike" subgenre—or, more specifically, the name given to Fromsoft's subset thereof: "Soulsborne".

As to a suggestion to replace "Phantomborn", what about the "Phantomflesh"?

So...I'm trying to decide whether or not to use the following scene as a source of humor or yet more angst/drama since it actually has the potential for both—-but not at the same time.

The last conversation between my main-character-turned-Big Bad and one of the other main protagonists takes place in the villain's Mental World (well, kind of, it's complicated). The two of them spend a long time there, years in fact, as they talk about the motivation for his apocalyptic rampage, their respective feelings on what he did, and about what the future will bring now that the heroes have successfully stopped him, and they also try to clear the air between them regarding their love/hate relationship.

Here is where the scene I'm concerned about comes in: The other protagonist apologizes to the main character for her part in his downward spiral. She acknowledges how she manipulated him into doing her bidding, held back a lot of information from him, and ultimately tried to use him to secure a heroic legacy for herself.

During each acknowledgement of her transgressions and her regrets over them, he simply replies with a monotone "I know". This is because by this point he's so deeply linked to her mind that he has read through every single one of her memories up until this point and knows how her thoughts have all lead to this series of apologies.

Finally, she explodes in anger and demands that he just act like a normal person and because she needs to have this conversation to get some closure before she finally dies of her terminal illness, and he moves on to a higher plane.

I'm not sure whether to play this exchange for humor since it is so outlandish and out of nowhere amidst the somber tone of the overall scene. But it could also be done to further add drama for a number of reasons.

It could turn into humor and seriousness if he responds to that with "And what exactly is a "normal" person, (Insert name of the other character here)?"

Showing some layers of the villain having realized that everyone is different and show that the other character have some set predetermined standards in her life that usually aren´t fitting but aren't wrong either.

@ Trainbarrel:

That could work; it's a break from his emotionless monotone and makes both of them stop and contemplate each other. He does ultimately engage with her more earnestly, thus leading to them having a real heart-to-heart conversation, so that would be a great "icebreaker" that is humorous and a little uncomfortable.

So, I think for now, I'm just going to use the name "phantom" to describe thoae who are both alive and dead, and make sure to specify that, in-universe, they're entirely seperate from ghosts. It's far from the first time a work changed the meaning of a name to better fit their story. Heck, Danny Phantom was literally a show about a kid who becomes half-ghost.

I'll still try to come up with a new name, but at least this one will make a good backup.

For what it's worth, the word "wraith" traditionally describes an apparition of one still living, I believe.

(I suspect that Tolkien may have used it intentionally for this meaning: the description of the Ringwraiths suggests to me, as I recall, that they may not have actually died, as such: their bodies just withered away over time, leaving them as naked spirits.)

That said, in modern usage it does have wispy connotations.

[edit]
Come to think of it, may I suggest "wight" as an option?

It's usually used in modern fantasy to denote a form of corporeal undead, and in older usage simply meant "a being" or "a human", I believe.

(Indeed, the modern, undead meaning comes if I'm not much mistaken from a misunderstanding of Tolkien's term "barrow-wight", which might be rendered into modern English as something like "tomb-person".)

Edited by ArsThaumaturgis on Apr 4th 2024 at 12:34:02 PM

Those could both work! I'll take them into consideration. Thanks!

What could someone do to quietly sabotage a big piano while trying to be stealthy? (Sabotage as in break or something, not to hurt someone but just to be a dick lol). One of my villains is breaking into "her" apartment (really the one owned by her good counterpart) and in the process of being covert I want her to hide behind the grand piano. But she would probably want to screw with it if she can, so I'm wondering if it's possible haha

If she's able to get into the piano's inner workings while staying hidden, an easy one would be jamming one of the hammers with gum so it doesn't strike the string properly. My first thought was cutting the strings themselves, but then I remembered those things are made of steel, so cutting them would require some effort and make a lot of noise.

Ha, that could be funny.

I also considered the strings and then gave up for the same reason as you

Nevermind. Damaging the hammers would make more sense.

Edited by CompletelyNormalGuy on Apr 4th 2024 at 10:39:15 AM

I also think it would be the funniest. Just the mental image of her not only managing to get in and out unnoticed, but to also get into and damage the piano still being unnoticed. Like she can be pretty evil when she wants to be but the sheer ridiculousness of the concept makes me laugh, and I want this chapter to be on the sillier side for a bit of comic relief

Edited by WarJay77 on Apr 4th 2024 at 1:42:32 PM

This is seperate from the other story I've been talking about. I've been working on a story in which a pair of twins, a brother and a sister, have been fused together as part of a curse. However, instead of merging into a new being like in Dragon Ball, the two instead take turns being in control, and their body changes to reflect this, kind of like in Trine, except their clothes don't change with them, meaning they need to find clothes that fit both of them.

I have two ways of explaining the exact science of how this fusion works.

Option A: The twins' bodies have actually been merged into a single body. Whenever one twin takes control, the body will actually, physically morph to match the dominant personality. The other twin, meanwhile, simply exists as a voice in their head, able to experience all the senses the other does. Whatever damage one twin receives while in control carries over to the other. The shared body also still has needs to be met regardless of who's in control, such as food, water, sleep, sanitation, and relief.

Option B: Each twin still has their own body, but only one of them can manifest in the physical world at a time. When one twin takes control, they instantly appear in place of the other twin. The twin who is NOT in control essentially exists in an empty void, only able to see, hear, and smell what the other one does, (I had to keep smell in there to explain how they can breathe), but they can still communicate. Damage is not carried over; say the brother cuts his arm, the sister's arm will be fine, but the brother will still have the cut when he takes over again. They each have their own needs to manage, meaning they have to take turns eating, drinking, using the bathroom, and cleaning up. Fortunately, the non-dominant twin can still sleep, meaning that if they coordinate right, the two can essentially travel indefinitely. This is closer to how it works in Trine.

The main takeaway here is that Option A gives the twins just one body to take care of, while Option B still gives them two. Which is more narratively interesting?

Edited by AmateurStorytime on Apr 4th 2024 at 11:11:11 AM

I'm not sure that either is more narratively interesting, but rather that they're both potentially interesting, just in different ways.

In short, each produces different constraints and opportunities, and I feel that both sets thereof could make for some interesting storytelling.

So, I'm trying to think of a coherent way to for one person to explain the "reason" behind certain actions (or lack thereof) to another person.

During the final conversation between my main character and another protagonist (which I mentioned in the previous question) he shows her a horrific visual representation of the sheer number of humans he transformed into werewolves and controlled during his two-and-a-half-day rampage.

She is appalled and demands that he free these people and change them back into humans. He agrees that he needs to free them from his control and return their free will to them...but he balks at changing them back into humans because he simply can't.

To explain: At this point in the story, his powers have let him become the entity that created werewolves. It is a gargantuan spiritual parasite that mindlessly seeks out hosts to ensnare. While he can exert complete control over people that he/the parasite infects, it is completely anathema to its nature to release them, thus he can't bring himself to do it.

Where I struggle is how I'd have him articulate this to her. He knows he's become this creature or at least taken its place, but not the full scope of what that means; all he thought about was being able to command all werewolves. So, he can't give her the exact reasons why he can't/won't turn them back because he himself isn't fully aware.

Edited by Swordofknowledge on Apr 5th 2024 at 9:13:53 AM

Let me try.

Protagonist: "Then turn them back. Right now!"

Villain: "Hmmm...Nah, can't do."

Protagonist: "Wha-!? WHY?!"

Villain: "Same reason you can't "undo" an explosion. It's a "One, done and gone" kind of deal. So sorry. I can't."

@ Trainbarrel:

That's a pretty good metaphor, thanks. I also think perhaps I'll go with something like that, short and simple, no elaboration or at least a reluctance to elaborate.

It's supposed to hammer home how even though he's still "himself" for the most part, it's "only" at 90 percent. The other 10 percent is the parasite. It's akin to taking over a human body and trying to get it to not breathe or blink. Infecting and transforming humans is part of this entity's basic nature. The villain can use his far more developed consciousness to play fast and loose with the "rules" but can't break them.

Edited by Swordofknowledge on Apr 5th 2024 at 9:44:25 AM

Fair enough. What other potential pros and cons should I consider between the two options besides what I listed?

Hmm... Which points are "pros" or "cons" will, I think, depend somewhat on what you want from the fusion and the plot.

So, a few thoughts—likely non-exhasutive!

Option B allows greater flexibility and power to the twins. As you note, they can travel extensively by sharing the load of travelling or other exhaustions, and they can tag-team in-and-out when injured in a fight.

Conversely, however, Option A (presumably) allows for more efficient going: if they only have the requirements of one body to meet, then they consume the resources of one in order to move two.

Both options sound... potentially a bit awkward, given the shared senses. Option B appears to be slightly less so, as it involves fewer senses.

I'd guess that Option B would be a little easier on the psyche of the non-active twin, as they'd still have the sense of having their own body. In Option A they might have to deal with the issue of feeling "their" body—as their senses would presumably be telling them—moved by another mind.

Conversely, Option B might incur some motion-sickness in the non-active twin, as they'd see the movement of the active twin, but feel only the stillness of their own body.

That's largely off the top of my head—there may be other points that I'm not seeing right now!

Would a reader be able to tell that the main character has developed some care or at least respect/empathy bases upon him just calling his grandfather by his title?

To explain,my main character despises his grandfather due to him making decisions that ensured his family would suffer, refusing to use his godlike Hive Mind powers and overall being an Actual Pacifist.

When he speaks about the man, he refers to him by his first name or just as "the previous owner" of the powers he has.

But after he himself has used these powers to their fullest and caused horrific devastation and mass slaughter across the world, he muses on the decisions his grandfather made to seal the ability away, and he calls him "grandpa".

It's intended to show that even if he still doesn't completely agree with his predecessor's actions, he doesn't hate him anymore and respects him as a member of his family.

Does that small change in name work?

Mm, to me the realization doesn't read as empathy as much as "I guess he realized that these actions have consequences before I did". I suppose a hypothetical reader might also be disinclined to care about the main character's emotional development at this point, but that's a different kettle of fish.

Trying to come up with a job-based caste system for a fictional species.

They're sort of like eusocial insects, as in there's a single asexual breeder and nobody else can do it, and they have different "types" with physical differences. But they have human-like intelligence, culture, art, religion, and complex technology — they aren't just some animals. They think the breeder is some kind of a god who chooses their lives for them. I'm explaining this because the whole thing means the caste isn't inherited from the parents like humans^note  (but at least the "civilian" type has some kind of an apperenticeship system, which can be parent-like).

There's definitely a split between the warrior type and the "civilian" type. Not sure if the warriors can be given a lot of inborn immutable ranking without causing military disaster, but at least the "civilian" caste would be divided by the job. Propably broader categories like "craftsmen", possibly further sub-divisions or maybe not.

The warrior caste propably needs to be somehow privileged (the system doesn't want the army to revolt), but how will that work when they are ultimately forced to be soldiers? The "civilian" high castes are actually in charge of the society.

The top "civilian" castes would be something like the government^note  (idk where the lower government employees would be), priests, and scientists (they're theocratic so the first two overlap). There's one "civilian" category type who are slaves, and below them at the very bottom are basically the untouchables, and another category below them where anybody could technically end up if they broke laws or taboos or pissed off the wrong people and got sentenced to ritual mutilation^note  ("technically", because the upper classes are almost never actually sentenced to the mutilation no matter what they do).

Ideas for specifics?