Influences on one’s idea of magic

Obviously, my concepts of magic do not appear fully formed in my head. They have to come from somewhere. And I have been playing tabletop RPGs for more than 75% of my life, and reading fantasy fiction for slightly longer, so it’s not surprising that some of that creeps in. At the same time, I am aware of how much of magic in games is a matter of making sure that the magic-using characters don’t just take over the world and have the fighters and rogues and rangers as furniture. So there’s a constant battle in my head to work out whether a given “piece of magic” relates to “real” magic (for whatever value of real you’re having yourself, like) or if it’s game stuff.

This is pretty easy in terms of actual “spells” (for whatever value of spells you’re having yourself, like) because most game spells have an immediate, definite, measurable effect there and then, often by making something that’s impossible per our understanding of physics (for whatever value of physics you know how this goes) happen. Real spells, in my experience, do not do this.

But in terms of the way magic is constructed, the D&D concepts of material, somatic and verbal components are pretty strongly dug into my head. The concept I’m calling sensoria comes from the fictional vestigia. I’m pretty sure my idea of magical wards owes more to force-fields in Star Trek than anything any magic user on Earth had before the 1950s. When I think of magical objects, I think of weapons and armour, rods, staves, wands, crystal balls and carpets of flying, potions and rings and helms and leather-bound tomes.

I do not think of verses of old manuscripts calligraphed and put in a box to wear on your arm. I do not think of dead cats placed in walls, or the skulls of cows or horses buried under floors. I do not think of little bags of herbs worn as amulets or buried on thresholds or hidden in beds. I do not think of poppets stuck with pins. Inasmuch as I think of divination, I think of cards and maybe omens, but rarely tea leaves or clouds or indeed entrails. I don’t think of writing in and of itself as being magical at all.

And some of this is ok, because my concept of what things can be made to work as part of magic is my concept, and I don’t have to justify it to anyone else. I just wouldn’t want to be missing out on things I could be doing because they never had application in anyone’s game or fiction.

DIE Comic by Kieron Gillen. Well worth your attention.

Tools & Talismans as Sigils

I’m aware that “talisman” has specific meanings in some magical and astrological practices. I’m using it here in the sense of a made or found object understood to evoke a particular effect by its presence.

I do not have a method for constructing talismans. I do feel a need for both some talismans, and for a method. I do, however, have access to methods for creating sigils. I’m going to try to think out whether I can apply this before I try it, and then if I still think it’ll work, give it a go.

So to make a sigil, let’s take this process (I’ve linked it before). You write down what you want, stated clearly. You cut that down to the non-vowel, non-repeated letters. You combine them into some sort of shape. You meditate on it, stare at it as you fall asleep, or otherwise get it into your subconscious. And then you put the sigil somewhere you can come across it frequently, and forget about what it’s actually for. This nudges your subconscious, the theory goes, into making the right decisions to achieve the thing you want, or at least tip the scales towards it.

If we take the same thing for physical objects, we can choose a number of components which “mean” the thing we want to achieve. This meaning can be assigned arbitrarily, or from a dictionary of meaning, which is probably a lot more use if it’s a personal one. Much as other people’s sigils aren’t going to work well for you, it’s debatable whether other people’s talismans constructed thus will work. Which, come to think of it, is an argument against this method, since the transferability of talismans is one of their strengths.

You then assemble these pieces in some visually pleasing way (which argues, perhaps, for your dictionary of meaning having things like “base”, “ornament”, “binding” in its index), and either place it where it can be seen, or wear it. It is probably better if it doesn’t resemble the thing it’s supposed to do, since it should be more abstract, somewhat forgettable.

Again, there’s something of a weakness here, since you can reverse fairly easily from the objects combined into the talisman to the meaning, without having the abstract step from letters to combined-form-of-letters-not-a-word to prevent that.

So perhaps what we’re constructing here are not talismans but tools. This tool, made from an oak base, with igneous minerals wound on with gold thread, represents stability and permanence. Use it for effects where you want things to stay the same. This other tool, made from flexible willow rods, with chips of metamorphic marble wrapped on in copper wire (which will go green, but hold), is for when you want things to change. And so on.

I’m coming out on the side of this not being the way to make talismans, but I’m going to think about it some more before I discard it.