Tag: Let’s Make

Let’s Make: A Fantasy Monster – Gekouls

Welcome back for the second part of this week’s accidental series of Let’s Makes. If you didn’t read Tuesday’s Let’s Make: A Fantasy Alcohol, you can check it out to find out how my creative process led me here.

Regardless, the goal of this post is to make a new fantasy monster for use in a future project–Rainwater Archaic. Because of Tuesday’s Let’s Make, I’m starting off with the idea that these monsters will be goblin-esque.

Now, there wouldn’t be anything wrong with going 100% goblin here. Fantasy is a genre with a large well of creatures to draw from, and even if we didn’t add a bit of flair to goblins, there’s nothing wrong with using them regardless.

However, that’s just not the kind of writer I am. Everything has to be abnormal. New. A pain in the ass to make.

So, let me walk you through what I already know about the race of fantasy monsters I’m creating today. And then, let’s figure out the rest of their details together.

Step 1 – Consider What We Already Know

This Let’s Make is going to start a bit differently because, again, we already know that these creatures are intelligent. Smart enough to make crude stills, which means they’re smart enough to fashion tools and weapons. They likely also have their own strange language and possibly make simple clothing for themselves.

That was my starting point last Tuesday, after posting. Since then, I’ve made one more decision about these creatures . . .

Step 2 – Decide on a Base Monster Aesthetic to Start With

If you read the salutations from yesterday’s post, you know lizardmen have something to do with this Let’s Make. What is it?

Yesterday, in the shower, while idling in brainstorm mode, I took this second step of the Let’s Make early, trying to figure out what kind of mini-humanoid I wanted to make. Beast-like? Elf-like? Goblinoid? Kobold?

The thing is, I didn’t even get to consider any of those options, because “mini-lizardmen” popped into my mind immediately. And then I laughed.

Because, man, if there’s one race I actually hate, it’s lizardmen. The go-to, forgettable, middling flunkies of fantasy. Do you remember the 80’s, when lizard people where slightly more threatening because of Conan: The Barbarian?

Neither do I.

When it comes to making a race of annoying, stupid, stunted swamp monsters, lizardmen were the perfect choice.

Step 3 – Add the Weirdness

Let’s face it–I’m weird. Three Let’s Makes in, I’m just embracing it.

Because, even before I got to this step–back when I started this post–an idea for a weird detail popped into mind, and I’m going with it.

These small lizard people have tentacle mouths.

A Zoidberg, if you will, only not crustaceans; they’re still lizardfolk, but their mouths are hidden behind writhing tentacles.

Which winds up making them feel a lot more like strange question marks, and a lot less like archetypes. “They’re those small, squid-faced lizard things that live in the swamps,” someone would say, instead of, “They’re the lizard creatures that live in the swamps.” And that level of uncertainty is something I strive for. Because it almost always feels better to make a unique thing that warrants an explanation instead of a simple thing that needs no explanation.

Adding just a bit more weird here–they’re also hunched over. I don’t know why I’m so hellbent on that idea, but the thought of them having perfect posture, running easily on two legs, seems completely wrong. These things, although bipedal, need to be borderline harmless, shuffling around everywhere with slow, grasping, chameleon steps.

Step 4 – Add a Culture

We already decided that these things are intelligent, so we need to give them some kind of culture.

I don’t think going crazy with it will serve the idea well, however. At most, these guys might have a crude religion, but even just imagining them worshiping whittled idols feels wrong.

Because these little bastards just seem too . . . primitive for that. They’re only borderline sentient. Like, imagine if a cat could talk; these things are only slightly above that level (so I guess they’re in intelligent bird territory?).

Whatever. The point is, I think they’d have a society, but that’s it.

And their society would absolutely be based around a queen. Because an animal hive-mentality seems right for them.

Which works well with the only other idea I came up with for these things in the shower. I thought, “Maybe there would always be one giant alpha in every clutch of mini-lizardfolk.”

No, buddy. That giant, tentacle-faced monster standing at nine feet, able to run on all fours like a wolf? That’s their queen.

I . . . love these things.

I’m really just adding more weirdness here, so I’ll reign it in. But first, really quick, if you haven’t heard of surinam toads, they’re amphibians who give birth from their backs. I’m not saying the queen of these lizardfolk gives birth in a similar way, but I like the idea that these creatures gravitate towards the queen’s back. They definitely can and often cling to her as she migrates and hunts, but she does the latter very rarely, spending the majority of her time bathing in pools of swamp water, face down and hibernating, her back acting as the central hub for her drones’ camps.

Those drone spend the majority of their time hunting–to feed her and themselves–and stealing as part of a mating ritual (the lizardman with the most shinies is most enticing to the queen).

This thievery is likely how they’ve learned to fashion tools, weapons, and simple armor, which they use to aggressively defend their territory, or venture abroad for plunder.

Their kleptomania is also likely how they learned to develop stills. They, apparently, have a great love for alcohol.

Step 5 – Decide on a Name

“Cthuls” came to mind immediately, but it feels too easy.

Trying to think of something else that ends with “-uls,” because I feel I can get away with that much, and it reminds me of “ghouls,” which I love.

Thinking of common reptile words and sounds, my mind snaps to “gecko.” The end result is “geckuls.”

Respelling it so it doesn’t sound like a pelvic muscle, I end up with “gekouls.” It feels oddly clean–like the correct pronunciation would come naturally–but it also feels like it could be the name of a mythical, forest dwelling creature from an Earth-modern culture, and that’s the real win for me.

~~~

Phew. This was a lot of fun. I’m excited to use these weird little bastards in Rainwater, because I absolutely love them. Thanks for joining me as I worked them out, and I hope that look into my process helps you make a strange race of huggable, violent monsters in your own fantasy world!

My name is Louis Santiago, and I’m a fantasy writer based in the Bronx. My short story, “Aixa the Hexcaster,” was recently published in Mirror Dance Fantasy. However, I’m still very much learning about the writing process–still trying to figure it out. Part of that means posting on here every weekday, even though I make absolutely no money from it. So, if you like what you read here and feel up to getting an email every weekday–a new post from me delivered right to your inbox–then please hit the Follow button at the bottom of this page. Because, even though all I get from this site is emotional support, that support means the world to me.

Either way, I hope to see you again tomorrow. Until next time, as always, write well.

 

Let’s Make: A Fantasy Alcohol

I’m sitting here with a rum and orange.

Don’t worry–I’m not drunk. Even though I don’t drink often (or I don’t think I do), I’ve settled into the habits of nursing drinks or spacing them out so long that I never get well and truly smashed anymore. Even if I’ve been drinking all day long.

Oh, right . . . Full disclosure, I’ve definitely been drinking rum and oranges all day.

A totally not-that-serious blizzard hit New York and everything shut down, including work, so I figured I’d grab some rum to make the extra day off a little bit more sound.

The result of casually mixing bevs all day: I thought it’d be fun to make a fantasy alcohol together.

Now, this will be a challenge, because, unlike last time’s Let’s Make, I’m pretty clueless. Last time, I made an animal, and I love animals; I’m a huge nerd for weird animal facts and regularly procrastinate by googling “new cutest animal [insert year]” (red pandas are still the reigning champs). I’ve even worked at the Bronx Zoo, taking the opportunity to learn a lot about the animals on exhibit.

In contrast, I know nothing about alcohol. I like beer. I like to mix incredibly simple drinks for myself once in a blue moon. I don’t have the palette required to enjoy wine . . . That’s pretty much it.

But, hey, there will be drinks in Rainwater Archaic, and this site is supposed to be about challenging myself, so let’s figure this out together.

Step 1 – Choose a Type: Beer, Wine, or Spirit

It feels like starting with a big picture question always works best whenever I make something for a story, so we’re starting with as broad a choice as I could imagine.

And, immediately, I’m going with “spirit.” I’ve already made a spirit and a wine for other fantasy projects, but making spirits always feels fun. I don’t know why. Maybe because ales and wines seem more commonplace for fantasy? Whatever–spirits it is.

Step 2 – Add the Fantasy

 

I know this is immediately out of order compared to last time, but I’m having a hard time with what would’ve been the second step: Choose a Base Material. For whatever reason, it’s a little tough deciding on a random material to distill for this drink, so I’m going to take another route–hope that I find some fuel for this creative fire. Something to bring it together.

A bit of brainstorming later, the answer is . . . goblins.

No, I’m not fermenting goblins to make this drink.

This spirit is made by goblins, or some other semi-intelligent race of monsters. It’s a weird idea. Which makes it perfect.

Side note: I refuse to use typical goblins in a fantasy story, but this isn’t Let’s Make: A Fantasy Monster, so we’ll have to call them goblins for now.

Step 3 – Choose a Base Material

Mushrooms seems like the perfect answer . . . but mushrooms don’t contain sugar, and thus can’t be fermented into alcohol.

The runner up: tree sap.

The sap from a stunted tree that grows in swamps.

Ugh . . . why is everything in my mind gross? Yeah, sure, these little monsters make disgusting alcohol from swamp trees.

Step 4 – Choose a Name

“Nosh” came to mind immediately. It sounded wrong though, and, sure enough, it’s a term for “food,” a little too far afield to work for my drink.

I tried googling “mash” as well, remembering that as a brewing term, but it’s a specific brewing technique, which would make it a lazy name.

Considering all the elements that went into it, I lighted on “bog sugar,” which I liked a lot. However, that was probably because it reminded me of “moon sugar,” a drug made by the Khajiit of the Elder Scrolls series.

So, instead, I went with a simple, playful alternative: “bog syrup.”

I may change it (depending on what the monster people who made it turn out to be like), but I’m happy with it at the moment. I’ll be using it for Rainwater, after all, and the inherent sarcasm of “bog syrup” is perfect for that story.

Step 5 – Assign a Social Niche

This is the part where I’m supposed to say when and where people drink bog syrup, as if it’s a normal drink.

But it isn’t. Bog syrup is most commonly used as fuel for fires, deemed unfit to drink by the average person. Perhaps because there are so many stories about how it drives people crazy or kills them.

Of course, there are still people who drink it–vagrants who find crude, abandoned stills out in the swamps. Cultures that celebrate those rare finds. The former often sample too much, destroying their minds. The latter, determined in the way of humans to have what they want, practice careful sips of the syrup, often arguing that it isn’t hurting them while it slowly obliterates their brain cells.

~~~

Well, that was fun. I apologize that my mind is so fucked up, but that was easily the most unique form of alcohol I’ve ever created, so I’m excited–even though it’s absolutely disgusting.

If you’re a regular, thanks for stopping by again. Fair warning: I’m probably going to follow this one up on Thursday, with a Let’s Make for the goblin creatures that make bog syrup.

If you’re new, my name is Louis Santiago, and I’m a fantasy writer based in the Bronx. My short story, “Aixa the Hexcaster,” was recently published in Mirror Dance Fantasy. However, I’m still very much learning about the writing process–still trying to figure it out. Part of that means posting on here every weekday, even though I make absolutely no money from it. So, if you like what you read here and feel up to getting an email every weekday–a new post from me delivered right to your inbox–then please hit the Follow button at the bottom of this page. Because, even though all I get from this site is emotional support, that support means the world to me.

Either way, thank you just for dropping by, and, as always, write well.