The Rules of Magic

My game, Caverns and Dryads on Steam, will be getting more updates soon. Some will be small—new content, minor improvements. Others will be big.

The big ones are the features the story actually needs in order to happen (for example, houses).

To get there, I have to write a significant portion of the story. And that means developing the world.

One part of that worldbuilding is magic. These days everyone talks about “magic systems,” and the go‑to example is usually Sanderson. But not for me.

While I think he’s a great writer, I believe he went off the rails when it comes to magic.

Magic is not eating minerals and farting metal. I’m sorry, Mr. Sanderson. That’s just not it.

At least I won’t be following anyone’s trend here, except the ancestral symbolism shared by all of humanity.

Forgive me, modern gentlemen, if that offends you.

MY MAGIC SYSTEM

Magic in a game needs parameters; otherwise, you can’t actually play. In a computer program, I need numbers. That’s what mana is for (without the accent, since the other word means something else). And in my world there’s another parameter that hasn’t been used in the game yet: resilience.

Magic also tires you out, so it consumes stamina. A mage’s spell strength is measured with a parameter called power—very straightforward.

And the ability to learn or cast a spell depends on mastery.

Some magic requires a sacrifice (sacrificial spells).

Magic in the novel follows the old rules—the ones humanity has always known:

• Similarity: like calls to like. A sound of rain attracts rain, for example.
• Contact: what was once connected remains connected. A lock of hair represents the person.
• Exchange: a great effect requires a sacrifice.

Every spell is performed through the passion and intensity the mage puts into their words and gestures.

• You must be able to speak.
• You must be able to move your hands.
• Anything that distracts you (pain, a dryad’s defensive aura, whatever) weakens or cancels your ability.

Things that are difficult or impossible (with or without magic):

• Healing a human who has died.
• Healing extremely severe, terminal wounds.
• Time travel.
• Teleportation.
• Creating something from nothing, or without a price.

Sioul can revive Tamzyn only because she isn’t human, and only if she has just fallen. Even then, it causes him enormous anxiety in the novel. If she suffers too much damage, he couldn’t do it. But because she is made differently, she is more recoverable.

As for the other points, they can be done, but only through sacrificial magic.

NO METAL FARTS

I believe magic must always retain a sense of mystery. That’s what I miss most in modern magic systems.

What I use is not "hard magic system" or "soft magic system". It's just magic.

There’s no need to invent new rules. Humanity has known magic for millennia. Those are the rules.

I also dislike systems that present something deeply mystical as if it were a scientific discipline. Please: no more metal farts, no more sci‑fi elements.

If you have to justify magic through a pseudo‑scientific, materialist framework… I’m sorry, but that’s not magic.

Tell me whether you agree or not. Maybe you don’t, and you enjoy those systems. They do have their charm. But don’t you feel we’re losing the fantasy?

I want magic to be a candle burning in a cavern, a doorway into the liminal. Not a series of materialist calculations and rules.