There’s something about the term “magic system” that takes me out of a fantasy setting. This does not apply to roleplaying games, where there needs to be a working game system for magic effects and everything else. I mean when someone uses the term “magic system” to describe how magic works in a narrative world. I’ve grown to dislike it outside of games.
So the first thing I did when I returned to this comic was get rid of my own.
It can be important to know how the magic of your world works if you’re writing fantasy. Unlike real life, fiction needs to be consistent and make sense to the reader, so having a solid idea of “this is how this works” is great for the creator of that fantasy world. But, for me, that was beginning to take away the magic of magic.
For me, magic is at its most wondrous when there’s more than a little mystery involved. When even the most skilled practitioners don’t know everything. I wanted to feel that wonder again, away from the all-knowing perspective of the world’s creator and closer to the inhabitants of that world discovering new things for the first time.
The irrevocable change of magic was important to make my return to this setting feel wondrous and new. I no longer wanted to know everything there was to know about magic. I wanted to be discovering things alongside my characters. I wanted to experience the thrill of uncovering mysteries and solving puzzles, and for me that’s impossible if I know everything there is to know beforehand.
I did away with my own world’s magic system so I could rediscover it, and I am so glad I did. I’ll be honest, I don’t know how it all works nowadays, and that’s by design. Now I get to experience the magic of magic all over again.
Is this an approach I would recommend to everyone? Absolutely not. But after nearly twenty three years of making comics, it was the approach I needed.