Today we have a guest post about CONWORLDING by The Assembler. This is the first in what will be a series about miserable worldbuilding. Enjoy. -rudy

Yes, I’m Done Creating Content for Melkrin (for the 5th time)

I fucking hate worldbuilding.  

That’s not to say that I dislike everything about the process.  I’ve had some fun in the past parading around my favorite OC’s or cosplaying for my fanbase.  The response, when I get one, usually serves to inspire me for the next creative endeavor.

But frankly, it’s never enough.  Praise from the mouths of the sentient just doesn’t do it for me anymore, and I’m not sure it ever has.  I feel like I’ve basically beaten the awe into them (certainly, the fear of disappointing me is real).  Yeah, I’ve got some true believers, but there are so many sycophants.  Sometimes, it’s hard to even take [what might be] legit criticism seriously.  When the atheist guy with the ‘fuck you’ T-shirt shouts “Look at the results of unfettered religion in the Middle East,” I just hear “That desert conculture that you helped build is pretty complex and nuanced!”

I guess what I mostly hate is my own inability to ever be happy with what I create.  How many worlds have I made and just scrapped outright?  How many solar systems?  How many universes?  In terms of just the cosmos—a canvas, a vacuum with nothing in it—I’ve torn up, and re-worked, and recolored shit so much that I don’t even recognize some of it as my own work.  I’ve folded more space than a Holtzman drive (and that’s no offense to Frank, who is a huge influence).  

It’s hard to create in a vacuum.  I do it, but it’s hard.  I guess that’s why I made them.  The Choir, the Heavenly Host, the Creative Team, the Committee.  I needed, and still do need, someone to bounce ideas off of.  I crave outside inspiration and commentary.  For the most part, using Free Will as procedural generation has been a wonderful thing for me.  

In the physical world, where biological, political, and sexual frustrations act as seed states for my little generators, the people create content.  Tons and tons and tons of content.  And when I say “content,” I mean they explain things in cool ways that inspire me.  I’ve got a file filled with gods and goddesses, from Pan to Xenu.  I have another one containing obscure peer reviewed articles that I read when I fancy feeling stupid.  The most treasured possessions in my mindcastle are the combined works of J.R.R. Tolkien: everything from The Hobbit to that story whose title makes me giggle to that elf-shaped hole that John punched in the wall after another Inkling gave him shit about his work.  Almost all of the things spawned by my creations are good^✝ (although, looking at what I’ve written in the paragraphs above this one, there’s definitely some that I gush over more;  I guess I’m just a fangirl for that primordial desert hot mess).  

When someone expires and goes to Heaven, they are put on the Committee to help me sift through all this content and integrate it into the setting.  I’m not actually omniscient (I love the texture of that word, though), so sometimes what they come up with is surprising.  Sure, I have things that I want, need to see in my setting—I lay these out to the team in a core content bible I call The Vision—but I like to think that I’m not a tyrant about it.  

In fact, here’s how diplomatic I am: when someone is done with their job on the Committee, they get to take the reigns and be in control of a small part of reality.  

The physical laws of the universe are a big part of worldbuilding.  Things like “gravity,” “physics,” that stuff.  Goddamn is there a lot of content in this area.  Some of the more popular fandoms, like WYSIWYG Newton, tend to overpower the lesser ones—for example, Quantum Mechanics was censured as “too inaccessible” during the period when Earth was around, and its fans were quite meanly labeled “diamond hardheads”—but really, I’ll listen to just about anything.  I tend towards simplicity: rock goes up, rock comes down.  I like that, aesthetically.  Committee peeps tend to like it too, and that’s why when I say something like, “Ok, Albert, you’re in charge of administering some consistent standard of the physical laws in the Northern Hemisphere,” people jump at the chance.  I mean, I’m trusting that everyone will obey The Vision, and they almost always do, but there’s still room for them to add their own artistic touch.  Maybe a little too much room, all things considered.

In hindsight, this kind of creative commons approach to reality might have been a mistake.

To show why (nah, let’s be honest, this is mostly for my own sanity) To remind myself of my failures in this regard, and rub them in, I’ll highlight a recent piece of abandonware of mine, the world called “Melkrin/New Earth.”

Next time: “Why excessive automation is bad, or, How Heaven Became a Magical Clearinghouse for New Earth’s Dictatorships.”

 

 
 

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^✝Except for self absorbed, meta shit like this.