Basics

The simplest way to create magic is to just make stuff happen. If you want to shoot a fireball, then shoot a fireball; there is no consequence except something usually gets burnt. This is basic magic, and it can be very fun to read.

The LITRPG System

You might be familiar with this if you’ve played games. The basics of this system is a linear progression that the reader is able to easily digest. Let’s list a few basic statistics.

Stamina

0

Strength

0

Intellect

0

Agility

0

As seen in the table above, a character progresses through this system by increasing their statistic from 0 to 1. This means that a strength statistic of 2 is double of 1. If we keep going, we find that 101 is not double 100. This is progression. However, it is a miniscule 1% difference. It is an inherent design flaw that many designers have attempted to remedy by inflating numbers, effectively doubling a statistic each time. 200 becomes 400, 400 becomes 800, and so on.

You may already see the conundrum of such a basic progression system. A character with a 1% power difference is unlikely to absolutely defeat their opponent, even if they are mathematically superior. Think of a lottery; we rarely win, do we? Yet, there's always a winner (most times), and it might be the hero or it might not.

Maintaining Clarity In A Table Of Numbers

One of the monumental tasks of maintaining a table of statistics is clarity. Take the below table as an example.

Stamina

347,928,372

Strength

918,491,653

Intellect

104,541,650

Agility

45,607,507

Right away, your eyes are attracted to the left-most number and you’ve probably ignored the numbers after. A linear progression like this will become cumbersome to read, and many readers will tend to gloss over such a table while assuming that the character has simply become stronger.

Typically, an author will abandon this system. A new system is created to replace or append this linear progression, and thus the table of statistics will serve as a reminder to the reader that the character is becoming stronger.

Creating A Skill System

All too often authors will create a fireball skill that costs X mana with a range of Y yards. It is not complex, but it serves its job. Now, these skills are typically mixed in with the character’s statistic sheet. A fireball augmented by 101 intellect will overpower a fireball with 100 intellect. And so, we end up with the same conundrum that plagues the linear progression system. I want a skill that doesn’t rely so much on numbers, a skill that requires the wit of my character to use.

Let’s begin with a simple skill. I want a sword that can cause a whirlwind of destruction. Hang on, isn’t that what a sword already does? Ah, yes. Another pitfall that authors become trapped in. You must be very careful in creating skills that already exist. I say this because your character may very well be capable of thrashing a sword around with no skill whatsoever. Let’s create something a bit more magical, say a flaming sword.

Limits

Limits are always more interesting than limitless power. As I have shown above, readers will ignore progression on the basis that the character is assumed to gain power throughout the story.

Let’s bring in our flaming sword. I want my sword to become so hot that it melts steel, never mind the fact that I may be burnt in the process of using such a skill. I just want something cool for my character. Why is a flaming sword that melts steel cool? Because it shows power. You are no longer restricted to a table of statistics (unless you decide to require a mix of intellect and strength, but we’ll come to that later).

A sword that melts steel is very hot. How do I restrain this power? I don’t want my sword to become a mini-volcano, as interesting as that is. Let’s make my sword burn only when it contacts something solid. That means I can’t turn my sword into a flamethrower, and I certainly can’t use it as a torch. This limit is interesting. For one, my character will have to physically engage with opponents to enable the fire sword. I don’t want a situation where my character can sit back and spout flames; he carries a sword for a reason.

Cost Of Using A Skill

You may have come to realise that fireballs have an associated mana cost. It’s arbitrary, but it serves its purpose. Mana is a catch-all for magical skills, but it is not interesting.

Let’s look for a different cost for our flame sword that isn’t mana. The first thing that comes to my mind is that a sword should be kept sharpened. Let’s make whetstones the cost of my flame power. The power will be applied to my sword when it is sharpened with said whetstone. A whetstone is a physical item; it is not arbitrary like mana. The sharpening of a sword is an artisan skill, meaning that a simple person cannot sharpen a blade by simply possessing a whetstone. My character will need knowledge of this skill (wow, you’ve just created a quest for your character to pursue!).

My whetstones are special, created by knowledgeable smiths.

The goal of this cost is a simple one: Make my sword burn its enemies for as long as it stays sharp. And now we have a skill cost akin to mana, and it’s an interactive one. The moment my blade dulls is when the flames stop, though the sword may still cut.

I have mentioned that my character may need a mix of intellect and strength to wield this flame-sword. This is a simple prerequisite that may open up some interesting character progression. Say that my character doesn’t want to (or can’t) increase his intellect, but as the writer, I do want him to wield this sword. This results in avenues for character progression. Maybe my character will find his love interest by pursuing intellect growth? Who knows where this could go?

Tying In Skills To Character

We always imagine our characters as archetypes. Warriors, wizards, and so on. My character wields a sword, and so he fits into a warrior archetype. He has chosen his warrior life because he was told his intellect was too miniscule to be considered for the wizard academy. We now have a link for my character to wield magic fire swords.

The challenge is obtaining the intellect to wield his fire magic. It is an interesting character conflict. How can my character overcome his small brain to wield the fire-sword? I’m starting to create a basic plot for a novel already!

All too often I’ve seen authors write skills that disregard the challenge that their characters should face. I don’t think a magical potion making machine fits the theme of shields, and it’s worse when the produced potion is a cure-all for maladies. It trivialises character growth to become the conundrum that linear progression faces. How will you make a cure-all potion interesting? Why, double the dosage! This is the conundrum.

You should aim to have your character resolve their conflict before obtaining their skill, and not the other way around. You’ll find that you’ll have a far more engaging protagonist, and most importantly, a journey that is not restricted to numbers.

Is My Magic Too Powerful?

If you can imagine your magic destroying the world, then yes, it’s too powerful. I’ve read about magic where it’s all sparkly, with a dozen different ways it could be countered, all for the sake of proving that it’s not powerful. It’s boring. Why? Because those counters don’t interact with the character’s emotions. I really don’t care if water counters fire, and electricity counters water, and so on.

I want my character to feel emotions when he uses his magic. My fire-sword needs physical contact to burn stuff, and that puts my hero in danger. Do you see what I’ve done? I’ve created a situation where my character is active, rather than reactive. A fire-sword may be doused by water, but it still cuts. My hero always has a reason to swing his sword now, even in dire situations.

Magic Magic

A problem arises when magic is used to counter magic. Personally, I find this disheartening to read. I want my hero to win. The simplest solution to this scenario is to just let the magic happen and disregard counters. Focus on the limits of skills. Make your hero think about what they should do, rather than engage in battles that they always know they’ll be able to walk out of because fire beats grass.

My Readers Don’t Understand How My Magic Works!

You may have created something convoluted. Let’s bring back my whirlwind sword of destruction. It’s a fancy skill to imagine, but how the hell does it work? Well, there’s nothing that really defines the whirlwind; it just destroys things when my hero spins. My hero must be some kind of bandicoot.

If the whirlwind destroys everything it touches, then it’s perfectly reasonable to expect the reader to become confused when it gets blocked by a shield. Maybe the villain just has a strong shield? But that doesn’t make sense! My hero has been spinning to win for 300 pages! As I’ve said before, it’s better to let these magics happen rather than create onion layers that confuse the reader.

But you’re saying, “I want to create depth and intrigue for my magic.” If you’re thinking this, then you’ve fallen again into the pitfall of the linear progression system. Good magic won’t rely on layers, instead they will state the limits of said magic the moment it’s introduced. The concept of your magic is easier to imagine when you’ve stated that it’s a short reaching, burning sword.

Economics Of Magic

This is overlooked so often. How do people in your world feel about magic? Are they happy, or depressed? Magic is often a tool used to drive the hero forward, but we neglect the emotions it invokes. Ask yourself: Is my hero’s perpetual growth creating happiness in people? Is magic so rare that the mere presence of it causes economic growth? Are my villains’ magics creating a depression?

Take for example my whetstones. They are physical items with value. My hero becomes happier when he obtains a whetstone, the merchant becomes happier when he receives his money. It’s clear that there is an economy for whetstones. People can’t be unhappy about this, not unless there’s a drought of whetstones.

What if my villain decides to maliciously stockpile whetstones? Well, now we have a situation where the entire world can be angry for reasons other than dark magic. What about other fire-weapon wielders? Maybe they could have lives where they work as wildfire battlers. That’ll mean that people can live without fear of losing their homes to wildfires, thus leading to increased happiness.

Like mana, magic is given to the wayside when it comes to economics. If magic exists, then it should interact with the lives of the people.