(Being the third entry in a series of posts about the exotic and the mundane in world-building.)
The problem with an exotic setting is that it eventually becomes mundane. No matter how fantastical something is, familiarity eventually robs it of its magic.
For example, the first time I saw Darth Maul’s double-sided lightsaber in an Episode I trailer, I thought it was the coolest thing ever! Of course, by the time the movie came out, the novelty had worn off, and I was ready to see what else the successor to Darth Vader had to offer. (And the less said about that, the better.)
The point is, it’s hard — if not actually impossible — to build a world that remains as exotic to its audience as it was when they were first exposed to it. Still, here are a few tricks to make the magic last along as it can:
Keep the characters moving. When the immediate area starts to feel too familiar, move the action to some place new. (This is easier to do in fiction than in games, where you may need to convince the players to move on.) Karthador is a great world for this sort of thing: its nine nations are radically different from each other, yet are close enough that if one starts to lose its exotic novelty, you can easily hop across the border for a completely new experience.
Keep the world mysterious. No matter how deep the characters dig (metaphorically), there are always still deeper secrets to explore. This is similar to the above, except instead of using geography to find the exotic, we use information; it’s a question of depth, rather than breadth. (J. K. Rowling uses this technique to fantastic effect in the Harry Potter books. The action rarely leaves Hogwarts or London, but as the characters keep learning more about the setting and its history, the audience keeps learning exotic new tidbits about the wizarding world.)
Involve the audience. In an RPG, the players can affect the world themselves through their characters, adding exotic bits of their own design. (“I can cast the ‘flight’ spell on rocks, right? Cool. I’ll use it to build a flying castle!”) Or you can ask the audience (whether players or more passive consumers) to help come up exciting slices of exotica of their own. (“What if you had flying castles? That would be neat!”) Of course, you’re not required to give them exactly what they ask for; as noted previously, creating the exotic is all about messing with the audiences’ expectations.
I’m sure there are other techniques for maintaining the magic of an exotic setting, but these are my top three. If you have your favorites, please share them in the comments, on Facebook, or tweet them to me on Twitter.
