In the past I’ve been very critical of Magic Story in these articles. I’ve questioned the Nissa retcons and their mishandling of the Eldrazi. But after reading last Wednesday’s entry “Shapers” I wanted to take a moment and acknowledge something that they did absolutely right: voice.
Odds are most of you immediately thought of dialogue—what characters actually say to each other—but it goes far deeper than that. Voice is one of the most basic tools at a writer’s disposal, along with scene and conflict. Voice is everything that differentiates one character from another, beyond the simple physicality of appearance. Voice is what lets George R. R. Martin write a multi-thousand-page series featuring twenty-four point-of-view characters and hundreds more names without confusing the reader. It’s everything from the small quirks in how a specific character talks to the huge differences in how sworn enemies perceive the world.
So how does “Shapers” do? Putting aside the captured Sun Empire soldier, there are three characters who speak: Kopala, Tishana, and Kumena. The several groups of River Heralds in the background don’t count, as they mostly seem to be there as witnesses for the conflict between the three speakers. Plus, they don’t speak or really interact with any of the characters that do.
If you read the story, ask yourself now: how unique were those three voices? Was there even a single moment when you were unsure who was speaking? Heck, imagine taking any of Kopala’s lines and having Tishana say them. Would it work? A few of you might answer differently, but for my money these three are each wonderfully fleshed out characters, with clear motivations and distinct personalities. That is more impressive than it sounds, because the writing team accomplished it solely through the difference in the character’s voices, both spoken and internal.
Think about it. While the pictures interspersed throughout the story help, there is almost zero description of what any of the merfolk look like. I had to go back and check the card artwork to figure out if Kopala was male or female. All three belong to the same culture, hold similar rank and practice the same branches of magic. If you want to debate that the lack of description is a bad thing, then go for it. But you can’t deny that the slack was more than picked up by their unique voices.
Let’s start with Kopala, as he’s the first character we meet. The first twelve paragraphs of the story take place entirely within Kopala’s mind as he meditates. While it partially serves as an exposition dump, his running questions about the past and future of his people give a weight to the monologue. He is both young and painfully aware of his own limitations: “the least among the greatest of my people.” His words emphasize just how far he knows he has to go. In his interactions with Tishana we see that he defers to the elder’s wisdom, asking questions and only supplying answers when he sees she wants him to.
But what really stands out to me is that Kopala’s inner dialogue is full of questions, his “game of what-ifs.” Even while he listens to the older shapers he doesn’t mindlessly obey. He constantly wonders what will happen in the future if things happen one way or another, and how things would be now if the past had played out differently. He understands the futility of doing this but asks the questions anyway, unable to choose a course until Kumena’s actions force his hand.
Speaking of Kumena, let’s bring him into the picture. As the story is taking place he is second among the shapers. If we were to wind the clock back to when he was first chosen as speaker, can you imagine him ever thinking of himself as “least among the greatest” of his people? I can’t. It’s pretty obvious he would’ve seen himself as one of the strongest.
And that, right there, is the secret to creating voice. It’s as simple and as complicated as finding the things one character would say that no one else would even consider. It’s hard to quantify beyond that, but when you do hit upon those perfect lines they tell you everything you need to know about a character in one moment. From there, it’s the relatively simple matter of keeping their words, thoughts, and actions in line with this core. Kopala’s “least among the greatest” is one such moment, but it isn’t the only one in this story.
About two thirds of the way through, we switch perspective from Kopala to Tishana, as the latter pursues Kumena. This scene takes place immediately after the two shapers nearly come to blows—Kumena hellbent on claiming the forbidden city of Orazca, Tishana resolutely against. Kumena actually attacked Tishana and Kopala before the arrival of pirates interrupted him. Everything up to this point has portrayed them as polar opposites, and it’s easy to see Kumena as a villain of mustache-twirling evil.
So what is Tishana’s first thought chasing after the single greatest threat to her life’s work? Kumena is “the one student I failed the most.”
We learn everything we need to know about Tishana in that one sentence: worldview, personality, and fatal flaw. The power-mad Kumena is not truly an enemy, but a misguided student who will be in danger if not corrected. She doesn’t think of fighting him, instead doing everything she can to demonstrate the flaws in his plan. She tries to convince him to change course. I’d bet money that Tishana would be more than happy to teach a non-merfolk her wisdom if she thought by doing so she could convince them to abandon the search for Orazca. (Jace, perhaps?)
Kumena might not have a moment quite like this, but his voice is consistent throughout the story. He is direct and almost painfully blunt, observing the bare minimum of courtesy that he can get away with. Although that disrespect appears more in inflection that words initially, it foreshadows his eventual violence from the moment he opens his mouth. Every time Kumena speaks it is quick and to the point, but he displays the greatest emotion when pushing to reclaim the golden city. His sentences get longer and more descriptive, revealing his obsession. And his final line fits perfectly with everything that has come before.
Part of the reason this story works so well is that each character has a distinct, easy to understand motivation and personality. That information is conveyed almost solely through their voices, not because they tell us, but through their actions and words.
This is honestly one of the greatest strengths of Magic Story. The writing team has been consistently excellent at bestowing complex characters unique and believable voices. Think of the quiet selflessness and quick wit of Shu Yun from Khanfall, or the mad twins’ egotism from Games. Even Chandra’s often difficult-to-follow stream-of-consciousness ramblings do a wonderful job of not just matching, but creating her character. And when it’s done poorly? We get Nissa mumbling “Ashaya” at a tree for months on end.
Levi Byrne has been with the game since Worldwake and has a rabid love for fantasy writing that goes back decades. Despite some forays into Legacy he plays Commander almost exclusively, and has a love for the crazy plays and huge games that make Magic what it is. He was the go-to advisor of his playgroup on deck construction for more than five years before joining Dear Azami.