The Issue(s) of Credibility

Day One, Post One. The discussion of 'credible' fiction is something that is is common, at least in my life. What makes one fiction better than another? What makes a fantasy world click? Why does that character just not fit? I will go into some of my thoughts on the matter. However, I doubt this will be the last time I air this discussion here. I hope I answer at least some of my own questions, as well as yours.
For today, I will introduce the topic with reference to Fan Fiction.

The Multifaceted Gem of Fan Fiction
[For a quick definition, despite my edginess as an academic to recommend this site, jump on here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fan_fiction] 

Fan Fiction is something that has become increasingly prevalent (at least to my observations) with the rapid growth of the internet and social media in the 21st Century. Often, perhaps too often, it is denigrated by readers, authors, writers, and critics. Beneath the aggression, hatred, and bilious accusations, there is perhaps at least a grain of validity. Fan Fiction is what I would refer to as a 'Free for All' genre, where writers write their own stories, but set them in the world created by another, using the other writer's setting, lore, and characters. This, in itself, does no harm whatsoever, and can be a good way for writers and authors to gain a greater following. However, Fan Fiction, particularly when done poorly, has a habit of breaking the rules of the setting it has appropriated. Again, in and of itself, this is harmless, and often very fun to write and/or read.

However, while this is okay for a Fan Fiction author to do, as they have no binding obligation to produce something that is anything beyond fun. Conversely, an author of non-Fan Fiction must do their best to avoid the temptations of the much more liberal Fan Fiction style. This is so they may maintain the credibility and balance of their narrative, and maintain the suspension of disbelief within their work.

Balance?

Even though a writer technically has freedoms beyond reality in their own work, moderation must take a powerful role within the creative process. While a godlike magic user with immeasurable 'mana' (or your regional equivalent), along with no weaknesses, might be 'cool', or 'exciting', or even 'wicked sick', such a character can unbalance or even break the narrative they exist in. Readers enjoy conflict, they enjoy seeing a character overcome challenges and face setbacks.

If the magic user in question can solve any problem with a wiggle of his or her magical little fingers, stories end as quickly as they began. Such a character becomes, for all intents and purposes, deus ex machina, a godlike character who steps in and saves (or ruins) the day on a whim. Don't get me wrong, used intelligently and sparingly, deus ex machina characters can be excellent and compelling plot devices, but outside that role, they are a plot crash waiting to happen. Importantly, these sought of characters don't just appear in Fan Fiction, or due to a lapse of judgement on the part of a DM in Dungeons & Dragons; prominent fantasy authors have fallen into the trap of over powered characters. The question then is, how does one get out of such a trap?

Nerfing?

For the gamers among you, the term nerfing will be very familiar. In the games industry, nerfing refers to the practice of drastically limiting the powers or performance of a particular element of a game. A weapon or piece of armour might be too powerful, causing an imbalance in the gameplay, or a boss might be so difficult as to be impossible.

While, to my knowledge at least, authors don't come out and say that they had to nerf character x for reasons y and z. There are probably a number of reasons for this. Perhaps the most glaring reason is the idea of suspension of disbelief (aka the danger of metagaming); if an author were to publish an article that essential said 'Yep, I stuffed it royally, please pretend Sir Blathersby did not ever find the Sword of  Inscrutable Epicosity, as I will be removing it from all future novels for the sake of balance,' we would probably choke on our collective morning beverages and wonder how a 'professional' got it so wrong.

But, as I said before, the professionals do get it wrong. We have all read, I am sure, a fantasy novel (possibly even by a critically acclaimed author) that has a moment where we stop and think, 'that is a bit much.' The reasons for this are, surprise surprise, manifold. Here are some possibilities. First, perhaps the author wrote themselves into a corner, creating an obstacle that required immense power, but could not find a way to rescind that power afterwards (more on this later). Secondly, perhaps the novel in which the unbalancing effects was intending to be a one off that was more successful than anticipated ( I can think of quite a prominent example of this without even trying), and thus the problem of balance wasn't taken into account. Third, less probable, is that the author used some form of random generation to decide on plot events (unlikely, but it does happen), in the style of Dungeons & Dragons.

So, now we are stuck, we have created something that unbalances the narrative. Let's make up an example.

Guy Broadhelm stood atop the cliff, revelling in the power that filled him. The scars on his hands began to fade as his newfound magic spread through his being. He raised a hand to the sky, as though to grab it. Clenching his fist he pulled down, the motion accompanied by the screams of a million tormented souls as the sky itself was torn asunder. He stamped his armoured foot and the mountains either side of him crumbled into dust. Dizzy with his potency, Guy laughed so loud that the heavens trembled.

Here, the narrator explores the seemingly limitless power of Guy Broadhelm, a mage capable of manipulating nature itself. He is not, by any means, the most unbalancing character to ever appear in a narrative, but you can see that he would create potential difficulties in any plot, whether as the antagonist or protagonist. So, how do we nerf him? More importantly, how do we nerf him without upsetting the flow of our narrative, or disrupting the suspension of disbelief.

For the answer to this, I bow to the immense knowledge and experience of the team at Wizards of the Coast. I feel that the following passage nails solution on the head very neatly...

Sometimes...the unexpected will happen. The characters may defeat a villian, foiling what the villan (and you [in this case the author]) thought was an unstoppable escape plan, and gain a vorpal sword that you never intended to fall into their hands...Or, even more likely, the combination of some new acquisition with an item or spell or power a character already has will prove unbalancing in a way you didn't foresee.
When a mistake is made, and a [character] ends up too powerful, all is not yet lost. In fact, it's usually simple to increase the challenges that the character faces to keep him or her from breezing through encounters. However, this way of solving the problem can be unsatisfying...

(Wizards of the Coast, 2003, Dungeons & Dragons: Dungeon Master's Guide (v3.5), pg.13)

Of course, when reading this example, you need to keep in mind that a Dungeon Master in D&D has significantly less control over the events within his or her 'narrative world' due to the input of players. However, even writers can back themselves into the corner, giving a character an innocuous power which, unfortunately, when acting in conjunction with his or her other powers, makes the character far too powerful, or grants them some additional benefit that unbalances the narrative, but cannot be omitted as the omission would be glaringly obvious to the reader. 

Before we look at the Wizards of the Coast solution to such a problem, I will propose a few that I have seen before, or even used before.

Hubris:A favourite of the Ancient Greeks, this one can work very well, and leave the ready feeling, if not satisfied, then at the very least vindicated. A character revels to greatly in their power, using it with reckless abandon, drawing the attention of gods, or fate, or some other 'higher power.' Then, either through the machinations of these higher powers, or the character's own poor judgement, the character meets their downfall. The downside to this method is that it can smack of deus ex machina, and should definitely be used sparingly for maximum narrative impact.

Curses: Always a bit of fun, the old curse balance. The individual (or group) doing the cursing need not even be 'evil' despite the connotations of the word 'curse', Perhaps the unbalancing character gained his power by retrieving a magical sword from a haunted wood (because who doesn't love a good old cliché), but in doing so is cursed; he might lose the ability to speak his native tongue, or become deaf, or be overcome by aggression whenever wielding said sword. The options are legion and are excellent plot devices in and of themselves. In a positive alternative, perhaps the hero's friends are concerned by the effects the new sword is having on him, and thus cast a curse (or compulsion) upon him to counter the weapon's influence. Perhaps, as long is it does not feel contrived, this method of balancing is the most effective.

Cost: Similar in part to curses, this balancer can work very well too. A limit on the frequency some new power can be used, or a great cost for the user if they abuse the power, A frequency of 'uses per day' method can work well, especially if the use of the power is physically demanding, or mentally draining. The cost method can also be a potent plot device, especially if it is a moral or personal cost. The best example of this I have seen to date is by far the way Brent Weeks manages Kylar's immortality in his Night Angel trilogy. I won't explain it here, so as to avoid spoilers.

The Imprisonment Approach: I will be honest, I am not a fan of this method, though possibly only because I have never seen it done where it has been subtle enough to not feel contrived. Essentially, the unbalancing character(s) in question are removed from the events of a particular narrative or section thereof so that they cannot quick fix the conflict of the narrative. I won't name the well known author who used this at least once in an attempt to balance the narrative of one of their books, but if you have read it, you will know what I am referring to. I suspect, if this method used carefully, it can be very effective, but it is easy for it to feel contrived.

The 'Oops, pretend he couldn't do it' Method: This should just be a no-no. Unfortunately, at least one critically acclaimed author has done it, along with (let's be honest) most amateurs. Sometimes, when writing, we give a particular character a very potent ability without thinking ahead to the problems it might create (for this example, let us use teleportation). Two books later, we realise how story breaking it is for that character to get across the planet in the blink of an eye, but what do we do? Well, what we shouldn't do is pretend that the character could never do it. That is jarring, and can very easily prevent the reader from engaging fully with the narrative. After all, this might be a character whose life the reader has followed through half a dozen books, and such an arbitrary change to the character can be very damaging to the readers' engagement with the character and the novel. Ultimately, this should be avoided at every turn, as it is not a fix, because even ten books later a reader might mutter, 'This wouldn't be a problem if the author hadn't broken my favourite character...'

I have not brought up deus ex machina as a fix, simply because, really, all of the above fixes are, in some way or another, deus ex machinae.

So, how do Wizards of the Coast suggest to fix an unbalanced character? Let us see...

For example, suppose a [character] becomes an unbalanced character by using a wish spell to give herself the ability to cast all of her prepared spells twice rather than once. [thus breaking the cost balancer I described above] An in-game [in this case in-narrative] solution might be to have an enemy cleric use a miracle to rob her of that newfound ability. Whatever you do, try no to make it obvious that the situation is just a tool to balance the game [narrative]. Instead, make it seem just a part of the adventure.

(Wizards of the Coast, 2003, Dungeons & Dragons: Dungeon Master's Guide (v3.5), pg.13)

As we can see, the Wizards of the Coasts' advice is perhaps the wisest. Solve the dilemma in the most believable way. Make the fix invisible within the adventure of the narrative. An obviously contrived fix is no fix at all, but an invisible one can often hide the initial loss of balance as well. Make it credible.

Now, you might be wondering, how is this author going to fix Guy Broadhelm and his planet killing mind? I refrained from mentioning another fix, one that resonates well with the human psyche (and in some ways, Newton) the Weakness. Let me show you...

Guy shuddered as he released the magic from his grasp, feeling hollow as he did. His insides burned, his breathing became difficult. The shard within him burned so brightly that it shone through his chest, surrounded by an opalescent aura. He fell to his knees, the arcane energy engulfing him. He fumbled for the flask of elixir at his belt, and drained its contents in a single mighty gulp. He felt it start to soothe the rampant arcane fire but it was too late. Too late.
Light exploded from his every orifice and he fell to the ground, a shattered, burnt out husk.

This particular weakness is present within all magic users in my fantasy universe. Every author finds a way to balance magic, as if left unbalanced, it can be an ever lingering elephant in the room for both the author and his audience.

Conclusion?

Well, I am sure your eyes are now a little sore from this rather long discussion. However, I can hopefully sum this up in brief. Unbalanced characters are part of fiction, and particularly fantasy; they even plague the best authors in the world. The trick is to know how to deal with the loss of balance in such a way as to preserve your credibility as a writer, as well as that of the narrative. As long as the problem and the solution feel comfortable and natural within the narrative's universe, they are not a problem.

The main thrust, at least for me, is that one should think ahead in regards to how best to control and mould the lack of balance in such a way that it can either be redressed later on or even become a fundamental (but fitting) element within the greater narrative of your fantasy universe.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope you got something out of it. I apologise if I didn't cover something quite to your satisfaction, or if I rabbited on overly much on one particular element or another.   

The two future instalments that are in the pipeline for The Narrative Within are on magic and another big elephant in the room: immortality.

In the magic discussion, I will explain how I created the magic system of my fantasy world, and how it interacts with the world it exists within.

In the immortality discussion, I will write about my character Lucian, and how I deal with making his immortality functional, and balanced.

For now, 

Cheers,

NNB CLARKE

p.s. I apologise for any typos; I don't allow myself much editing time at present due to a simple lack of time, and a desire to get this stuff up sooner rather than later.