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(The setting: Typical North American city with all the glittering advertising. The Occasion: Giant woman terrorizing the city.) (Crowd runs screaming while a large 49â11â woman looks into every window and car, shouting a name.) Narrator: Run! Itâs the attack of the forty-nine foot eleven inch tall woman! (The crowd, and woman, screeches to a halt.) Random Man: What did he say? Giant Woman: I donât know. I didnât quite catch it. Narrator: I said, âItâs the attack of the forty-nine foot eleven inch tall woman.â Random Man: Thatâs too long. Giant Woman: I agree. Narrator: But thatâs how tall she is. Random Man: Say sheâs an inch taller- Fifty feet. Giant Woman: Yes- you do that. Narrator: But wouldnât that be a lie? Random Man: Maybe, but itâs easier, and conveys a stronger impression. Narrator: Alright- Run! Itâs the attack of the Fifty Foot Woman! Random Man: Much better. By the way, Miss, who are you looking for? Giant Woman: My boyfriend, Richard Smith. Random Man: Try the City Court; I heard someone by that name was trying to get their wealthy girlfriend committed to an asylum. Giant Woman: Thank you. (Begins heading in that direction.) Random Man: Iâd hate to be that guy. As you can see by the proceeding short story, the name of your creature has to make sense. A name can give your creature power, of a sorts. Your name must be both to the point, and descriptive. Sure, saying that the above woman was 49â11â tall tells her height, but that doesnât convey the same power as shouting âSheâs Fifty Feet Tall!â That brings to mind someone the size of a five story building, at any rate. Letâs take a quick look at monster movies from the 50âs and 60âs. Some of the names of the creatures were simple; Thing, Blob, Them, It, and so forth. Others were given names like Godzilla, King Kong, giant ants, wasps, and more. Of course, most of these creatures came out of the fear of radioactive mutations and invasions of one sort or another. Now, letâs give an individual creature a name: Glexanor Snarz, Conquer of Twenty Worlds, Vanquisher of Timothy Jameson. The guy sounds like a tyrant, right? Of course, what if it turns out that Glexanor is a High School exchange student from Mars, who prefers to be called Glex, and heâs something of a nerd, who likes to play an Online-Multi-Player game called Conquer of Worlds, and taking over twenty worlds is like being a Level 50 Mage in Dungeons and Dragons. As for Timothy Jameson, heâs the high school bully, who likes to pick on nerds; problem for him, Glex is the equivalent of a black belt (not a master, but very adapt) at some form of Martian Martial Art, and had him kissing the floor after an encounter. Of course, letâs say youâre bad at making up fanciful names; go with ordinary ones then. Sure it might sound ridiculous to name an elf, or a dwarf, or some other such being, something like Tom, Dick, Sally, or Jane, or some name thatâs common in your neck of the woods, but then again, depending on the setting of your story, it might be a nickname, or a âHumanizedâ name, similar to how many immigrants to America were given âAmericanizedâ names. For instance, in An American Tail, the Hero, Fievel Mousekewitz, is given an âAmerican nameâ, Philly, by his new friend Tony Toponi, (coincidently, his original voice actor was named Philip, but enough about that). On the other hand, you might have a talent for making up languages, and names that go with them. Letâs take a quick look at The Inheritance series. Thereâs six races in it; humans, elves, dwarves, urgals, werecats, and dragons (though one could count the (now believed-to-be extinct) raâzac as a seventh). What I can say is, Paolini did a good job, considering he was sixteen when he first published Eragon. Elf names seem to have a light and airy sound, dwarves seem to have hard rocky sounds, urgals have grunt-like sounds, and so forth. In any case, make sure that the name fits your creature. Have fun in the worlds of Fantasy, Sci-Fi, and Horror. |