^Stay tuned for the video version of this article.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the word “legacy” lately, and it doesn’t make any sense at all. It’s an especially heavy word when it comes to writers, artists, filmmakers…really, any kind of creative. Unlike the vast majority of us, a prolific writer leaves behind plenty of clues about their true character: terry pratchettFor example, Britain’s best and best-loved writer since Tolkien published a dizzying 41 Discworld novels in 32 years, almost exactly the second half of his life.
If you’re doing some quick math and thinking now, that’s ridiculous, which means he must have written more than one book a year at some point, and then yes, it was a running joke at the time. At his most prolific, he wrote at least 400+ words a day with an almost religious determination. Sometimes he writes more. At this rate, you can write the word count of a novel in about six months. The trick is sustaining it: it amazes me that a guy who writes a 1200-word script and then has to go and lie down for about a week just writes and writes and writes and never stops.
Sure, anyone can write 400 *crap* words a day, but Pratchett is weeding out some of the greatest satire, fantasy or otherwise, that the English language has ever been moved to produce. A full 32 years. It’s a ridiculous run. This is better than The Undertaker.
However, I think the most important part of his legacy is not the flourishing literature he left behind, but the kindness and thoughtfulness of the man that they often reflect. Sam Vimes came up with The Economic Injustice Theory, which perfectly sums up how capitalism can be a prison for the poor. The whole equality rite, part of it is about how intergenerational attitudes, social rules, and institutional bureaucracy are damned if they get in the way of someone’s realization of truth. In Snuff, the goblins of the Discworld universe who, before that, were anything but contemptuous and cruel, enrich themselves with unique cultures and religions, just in time for their Spartacus moment.
Which brings us to Oblivion: a video game that Terry Pratchett was very fond of, and his experiences simulating the surprisingly complex goblin tribal culture in the world of Oblivion inspired Snuff to write about it a few years later.
His adoration of Oblivion, its world, its intricacies and systems that make sneaking around as a thief an absolute joy is well documented. Of course, he’ll feel right at home here, as it sticks to the fantasy tropes of having a large and important wizarding school in the capital of the realm. His invisible university itself will be depicted in three video games adapted from the Discworld universe, but walking around Arkane University in Cyrodiil, or any of its streets and houses, will make you feel strangely connected to this man. connect. Like visiting Hampton Court Palace and keeping Shakespeare in mind, there is something magical about knowing that no matter where you stand in the Imperial City, Terry Pratchett is likely to be there too.
Even his devotion to Oblivion gives us some insight into his character, as he’s particularly fond of a popular companion mod called Vilja, a complex NPC follower designed to form meaningful relationships with players in order to Forms of conversation, gift giving, and generally helpful when asking for help. Pratchett reached out to the mod’s creator to express his gratitude, and eventually contributed scripted voice lines for the character, enriching the original. At his request, the mod ended up with a feature that would help the player get out of the dungeon or into the next objective, allowing him to continue enjoying even though his Alzheimer’s disease made complex 3D navigation difficult game space. The mod is still widely used today, as is its Skyrim-based sequel. If you’d like to read more about this, Cian Maher did a great job on this story on Eurogamer a few years ago, and I’ll add a link to that article in the description.
Pratchett’s legacy is entangled with the video game world in some pretty deep ways—as well as his love of Oblivion and involvement in its modding scene, as well as three classic point-and-click adventures directly adapted from his work, which his daughter Rihanna ( Rhianna), a talented writer and national treasure in her own right, was the lead writer on the Overlord franchise and the 2013 Tomb Raider reboot, both of which I absolutely love. Overlord is a really fun video game that exudes a lot of the genre’s fantasy tropes, and Tomb Raider is a humanization of Lara Croft, which I think is a very bold and successful change in direction for the series.
But above all, I think his legacy can be summed up as one of kindness. He believes that ultimately every human being should be able to live and die with fundamental dignity, with their choices and inner truths respected by their peers and institutions. His tireless work as a right-to-die campaigner is exemplified: he spent his last years on the planet working to change the laws in the UK to allow assisted dying in terminally ill conditions.
There has been a lot of talk in recent days about separating art from artist. Phrases like “death of the author” and “no moral consumption under capitalism” are thrown around as if they allow people to act without consequence or moral implication. Countless attempts have been made to treat cognitive dissonance as a virtue, an attempt to bypass the flippant or downright callousness of the choices someone is determined to actively make. I have some sympathy for those who might feel conflicted: I know what it’s like to have to let go of something you’ve loved since childhood because creators, in their later years, have horrible opinions you can’t endorse. Expressing views that actively hurt those you consider to be your family and friends.
But there are other songwriters out there. There are other fantasy worlds to get lost in. beautiful world. luminous. Frankly, better. Other creators whose legacy was built on a thoughtful and generous spirit, whose worldview is evident from the texts they left us, never betrayed the faith and trust that millions of us have placed in them. In short, an unspoiled heritage that simply doesn’t need the mental gymnastics that separate art from artist.
Honestly, they’re easier to love.
