As a "neighborhood" is a collection of "houses," a "city" is a collection of "neighborhoods." When describing a city, it may be important to start thinking about government and laws. Different districts with different average incomes will receive different attentions from authorities, travelers and merchants. Perhaps a local dialect or accent is apparent amongst this city.
What is the "feel" of this place? If the streets are crowded, it it with people rushing to work, or is the city in a perpetual state of riot? Is there a giant ravine running down the middle? Has the physical division sparked a Montague and Capulet like rivalry? All these are examples of spark questions that may be relevant to your city scale.
Falconreach is a glorious castle fortress, with beautiful architecture and top notch defenses. Precariously perched upon a four hundred foot cliff, its elegant stone spires soar towards the heavens. The seemingly delicate design has baffled dozens of besieging battalions, for it has stood there for over three centuries, and neither time nor torment seems to have touched the gleaming granite. A winding path leads up to the main gate from the flooded fields of the rice.
Upon entering through the gate (expertly sculpted to resemble the talons of some enormous bird of prey), you immediately hear the ring of a blacksmith's hammer above the bustle of people in the market. The way to the stronghold is obvious enough to not need directions that are unlikely to be given from the focused populace.
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Neighboorhood
A neighborhood in this essence is a collection of houses from my previous post. There is often a common theme that binds the place together.
One theme is wealth, it may be poverty (nobodies ever done that before), it may be nobility, it may be somewhere in between. Average wealth definitely sets an expectation for an area. You wouldn't expect to find a beggar covered in rags digging through the dumpster behind the Ferrari dealer on Main St., but you would expect it behind the Joe Shmoe's Diner on 27th St. In any case it's important to have some form of consistency for all the buildings of an area.
Just as "houses" are not limited to residential one family dwellings, neighborhoods are not limited to a collection of such dwellings.
Many stories take place on a large school campus. Mrs Johnson's math class (the one with the digits of pi covering the walls), Coach Bigg's gym (and the ever present basket-ball hoops), the lunchroom (the noxious odor of the Three Meat Special is a smell you can feel).
The Tonaki an office building. The CEO's office is spacious with imposing furniture, and a picture of his family weighs down his paperwork. The IT dept. is an afterthought in the basement, cables and computer parts litter the tiny work area, and the constant hum of the servers is maddening.
Waterwood Village is a small riverside town with not much more than a lumber-mill, inn and some trades to support the mill (woodcutters and blacksmiths and such). The squat housing seems limited to arms reach in height except for the inn. The Red Rooster Inn was reconstructed from the tavern that preceded, as housing travelers became more lucrative.
All these areas are representative of what i would call a "neighborhood".
One theme is wealth, it may be poverty (nobodies ever done that before), it may be nobility, it may be somewhere in between. Average wealth definitely sets an expectation for an area. You wouldn't expect to find a beggar covered in rags digging through the dumpster behind the Ferrari dealer on Main St., but you would expect it behind the Joe Shmoe's Diner on 27th St. In any case it's important to have some form of consistency for all the buildings of an area.
Just as "houses" are not limited to residential one family dwellings, neighborhoods are not limited to a collection of such dwellings.
Many stories take place on a large school campus. Mrs Johnson's math class (the one with the digits of pi covering the walls), Coach Bigg's gym (and the ever present basket-ball hoops), the lunchroom (the noxious odor of the Three Meat Special is a smell you can feel).
The Tonaki an office building. The CEO's office is spacious with imposing furniture, and a picture of his family weighs down his paperwork. The IT dept. is an afterthought in the basement, cables and computer parts litter the tiny work area, and the constant hum of the servers is maddening.
Waterwood Village is a small riverside town with not much more than a lumber-mill, inn and some trades to support the mill (woodcutters and blacksmiths and such). The squat housing seems limited to arms reach in height except for the inn. The Red Rooster Inn was reconstructed from the tavern that preceded, as housing travelers became more lucrative.
All these areas are representative of what i would call a "neighborhood".
Sunday, February 15, 2015
House Sized
As I stated in the list, a house-sized area doesn't necessarily mean a house. Maybe there's a nice little Italian diner that values the privacy of its guests. Does it have the classic red and white checked tablecloths? Is its wine selection superior to the chain restaurant down the street? Is the owner's family portrait on the wall? These are just a few seed questions to think about in this size of a setting.
Props are an important part of this scale. This is an example of such a setting, certainly not a full story.
The arcade behind the diner was run by Joe who was more concerned with the kids having fun than making money. The "c" in the neon sign flickered off more often then on. The bike rack outside was perpetually full, even if school was in session. Inside was a cacophony of flashing lights, exploding star-ships, groaning zombies and noisy kids. Trix, Joe's black cat, flicked his bandaged tail as he kept watch from his perch above the Donkey Kong machine.
Some of the background characters(Trix) may qualify more as props than people for the story.
Props are an important part of this scale. This is an example of such a setting, certainly not a full story.
The arcade behind the diner was run by Joe who was more concerned with the kids having fun than making money. The "c" in the neon sign flickered off more often then on. The bike rack outside was perpetually full, even if school was in session. Inside was a cacophony of flashing lights, exploding star-ships, groaning zombies and noisy kids. Trix, Joe's black cat, flicked his bandaged tail as he kept watch from his perch above the Donkey Kong machine.
Some of the background characters(Trix) may qualify more as props than people for the story.
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