Read Underneath Large Extraterrestrial Snowmen

"What?!" you're probably asking. "A blog about insanity above and beyond quirky British science fiction?" Well... I doubt you really had that thought, but if you did, you're in the right place.

Actually, there won't be much science fiction here. Just insanity in spades (and a couple regular ol' spades), and a good old-fashioned rant.

To be clear, before I begin, I'm not actually entirely set in stone with my theme yet. I have, however, found my direction, and I'm tearing down the path as fast as I can, so hopefully you'll be able to keep up.

Oh, and I'll give five points if you can guess the general way I'm headed at the end of this post.

Rules are important—vital, even. Both in reality and fiction, without a concrete set of laws, there is invariably chaos.

An example of such chaos: Today in my Computer Science lecture, the class got back our first homework assignment. The results were universally dismal. We might've seen it coming if we weren't so busy translating Indian Engrish into something digestible, but alas—we missed the mark... by a lot.

In middle school, maybe, or when learning a math in a new number system, it's not bad to expect students to show their work. After all, the method is as important as the answer. But sophomores and juniors at a technology university doing tenth-grade algebra in a computer science class have all the right in the world to assume they don't need to include a play-by-play—especially when the assignment has to be submitted electronically.

Well, you know what they say about making assumptions—and mptions didn't seem too bothered by it. Naturally, the class, almost unanimously, did terribly on the assignment. All this could've been prevented had there been some stated rule that showing work was required. Although, I suppose I can't expect much from someone who doesn't context-check his assignments and steals contradictory website content from another teacher and passes it off as his own.

At the very least, after having spent forty-five years in the United States, you would think he could at least compose complete sentences and understand the difference between "criteria" and "grading scale." Or... perhaps... maybe shed away a little bit of the accent.

I guess I'm just asking too much.

But what about storytelling?

For the sake of argument, let's assume most storytellers are composing in their native language—or are proficient in their target audience's native language. Once the language barrier is gone, all that remains is the writer's ability to craft an engaging and, most of all, believable story, as well as the world in which it is set.

What of rules?

Well, take our world for example. The entire universe is bound by a stringent set of laws and principles, without which we might fall through the floor or burst into flames at any time. And before I go combustible, I would certainly like to know it is a possibility.

This is especially true of stories set in science-fiction or fantasy worlds, where the laws don't necessarily match what we know. And until you establish otherwise (perhaps by spontaneously igniting one of your characters), it is perfectly natural for a reader to assume your world follows the way of the real world. We're all familiar with gravity and water and the way peanut butter complements jelly—but if that's not how it works in your world, show us.

If your world is a world of magic, make sure you establish limitations and consequences (RULES!), otherwise everything stops making sense. Your story stops being fun. You start to entertain thoughts of dropping the class before things get too bad. And, trust me, it will get bad.

I like examples, so let me tell you another story of chaos and disorder, about a world where rules might exist, but they're so far out of reach it's the same as if there were none.

Let me tell you about Shakugan no Shana (specifically, the animated version linked). (I might warn about spoilers, except—due to other glaring flaws—there's almost nothing to spoil.)

In the very first episode, we are introduced to a significant portion of the world:

Power of Existence, a not-so-well explained concept similar to chi or life-force.

Torches, replacement shells for humans who have had their power of existence drained unnaturally. Torches act to prevent universal implosion resulting from the sudden, unexpected disappearance of those they replace, so they disappear slowly—sort of like deflating a balloon versus popping it. You get the same result, but one is much less shocking.

Guze no Tomogara (translated something like "Crimson Denizens," usually shortened to "Tomogara" in the show), entities whose existence received absolutely no explanation. They act, basically, as protagonists. Devouring power of existence as a reagent for devious magic and to unbalance the world. Except for the ones that don't want to unbalance the world. There's not much of a distinction made in the show. Some are good, some are bad. Why? The world may never know.

Lords of the Crimson Realm (translated from "Guze no Ou" or something like that—I blame Wikipedia if I'm wrong on that), are... somehow, similar to Tomogara. Wikipedia suggests they're like an ascended form of Tomogara, but I don't remember anything of the sort being mentioned. Regardless, they're powerful and want to prevent the Tomogara from unbalancing the world. To do so, they form contracts with Flame Haze (...why? If the Tomogara can roam around freely, why do the Lords have to attach themselves to someone else to do anything?).

Flame Haze, whose job is keep the balance in the world. They track the Tomogara (for reference: it was said early in the show, "it's not uncommon to never run across a Tomogara for as long as you live," and we meet something like eight or ten of them throughout the series) and either defeat or clean up after them. They are contracted to a Lord of the Crimson Realm and together do battle with the Tomogara.

Hougu ("treasure tool," or something like that), some sort of magical artifact.

Mistes, a torch with a hougu somehow inside of them.

(I apologize for the huge infodump, but it was necessary to explain the extent of the writers' failure to implement a believable world with rules and laws.)

The male protagonist in Shakugan no Shana is a mistes named Sakai Yuji (cultural note: Japanese names are listed family, given, which is opposite what we would expect in English). Because he is a mistes, he is not only already dead, but he has a magical artifact in his body (who put it there? why him?—It's said to be random, but that doesn't make any more sense than it being deliberate). After several episodes of getting to grips with the fact that he's going to vanish without a trace (hooray for universal memory manipulation!), all of the sudden... he doesn't. Turns out, the hougu he's carrying around (called the Reiji Maigo) replenishes one's power of existence at midnight.

Here are the questions the viewer has thus far: first, what is a hougu? We never hear more than that it's some sort of powerful artifact. Almost limitless, as witnessed around the show's midpoint, where a set of twin Tomogara have a non-internal hougu that replays any "unrestricted spell" (there are no "restricted" spells that we ever run across, though) cast on it eternally. Seriously. Where can I get one? Where are the limitations? Why do they have one?

Second, where do the hougu come from? Wikipedia has an answer, but the show doesn't. They're just... there. Are they constructed? Are they the side effect of a particularly unrestricted unrestricted spell? Why is Yuji's internal, and the twins' external?

Shana, the show's female protagonist, doesn't actually have a name. In fact, she didn't even have a name before she shed her name to become a Flame Haze (because all Flame Haze are called by a unique title associated with their contracted Lord). Why didn't she have a name in the first place? She was a regular human, after all. Early in the show, Yuji gives Shana her name—after her sword. That's not really any better, you know.

Soon after, we meet another Flame Haze, and find out that Shana's a unique one. Apparently, most Flame Haze have a fight to pick with the Tomogara... not because the Tomogora're trying to set the universe in a tailspin, but because they were wronged by one somehow. Why? What do the Tomogara do to irritate the Flame Haze? If it's all about worldly balance, then they're all just doing their jobs, and no hard feelings, right? Tell me what's happening! Please!

How about the magic? Well, it's all about the same thing. Shana has some sort of fire-based power. She can set her sword ablaze, launch flaming meteors, and eventually grow fiery wings and fly. Presumably, her power comes from her Lord, Alastor, portrayed as a small blaze encased in a red pendant that Shana wears. Of course, whenever Shana needs something stronger to accomplish a task, she has it. No questions asked (except by me!), it's just there. Well, except for the romantic side-plot causing Shana to need Yuji around to do anything useful. Since infatuatory (plus points for making up a word?) magic makes even more sense than magic from the abyss, it was clearly the best story direction.

As the story moves on, there's not really much progression. Shana's already got limitless power, and the antagonists have limitless-times-two power (still less than Shana, though), so they can't really go anywhere with that. Instead of barraging Shana with Tomogara, the story would've done better to start explaining the world: where the Tomogara come from, where the hougu come from, the consequences of contracting your frail, human body with a near-godlike entity of infinite power. You know, things like that.

But that doesn't happen: after twenty-four twenty-minute episodes, you have just as many questions as you did after the first episode. Nothing makes sense, and you're no better of a human for watching it.

The moral of the story?

Read
Underneath
Large
Extraterrestrial
Snowmen

Sure the phrase doesn't make any sense, but without rules, your stories won't make any sense either.

Conclusion: don't watch Shakugan no Shana; don't pattern your stories off of it, either.

P.S.: You think this was kind of long for a first (real) post? Yeah, I agree.