Embracing Darkness - Finding the Source of Dark Fantasy's Strength
The grim, the brutal, and the dour were never meant to be ends in and of themselves.
“Embracing Darkness” is an ongoing series of essays detailing my thoughts on the current state of dark fantasy as a subsect of genre fiction. In this series I attempt to identify both common mistakes which tend to drive readers away, and many of the core elements and themes which have helped some of the most beloved stories in the genre endure. If you’d like to read the other essays in this series, you may do so via the links below.
I love a good dark fantasy story.
I’m sure this comes as no surprise to any of my long time readers. From the very first, starting in May of last year with The Demon from Beyond the Stars, the vast majority of the fiction I’ve written and shared here has been some form of dark fantasy. It’s a subsect of the fantasy genre which has captured my imagination ever since I was a boy, when I suddenly found myself exposed to it through the likes of Vampire Hunter D and 1982’s Conan the Barbarian1, which was my first exposure to Howard’s renown Cimmerian hero.
Yes, yes, I know some among you may be thinking, “Conan is a barbarous adventure hero, not a dark fantasy hero!” An argument could certainly be made for this being true. He’s not as grim and brooding as Moorcock’s Elric of Melniboné; nor as stolid and coldly efficient as Howard’s earlier character, Solomon Kane. He isn’t distant and lonesome like the hunter D, nor must he contend with a galaxy of unimaginable horrors the way the majority of protagonists in Warhammer 40k’s stories do. However, while the grit, grime, and wickedness put on display in dark fantasy stories aren’t as defining of Conan as they are these other examples, make no mistake, dark fantasy is still very much an element of Conan’s stories, as revealed by tales such as The Tower of the Elephant and Queen of the Black Coast.
But I digress. The point is that I love the dark fantasy subgenre. It’s one that speaks to me on a very deep level, and it presents what are, in my opinion, some of the very best fantasy stories out there. I know plenty would disagree with me on this, and with fair reason. It’s certainly not a genre for everyone, particularly when one considers that the amounts of sex, violence, and body horror within such stories can easily be pushed into the realms of distaste through excessive usage. For as much as I love it, I’d be a fool not to recognize the many pitfalls and failings present within the subgenre. At its best, it can provide some of the richest and most enthralling fantasy fiction around. At its worst, it can feel exploitative and disgusting, and will certainly run the risk of chasing some readers off.
But why is this subgenre so divisive, and how might those of us wish to write within it avoid its common failings? I have an idea I’d like to posit in this regard, but before we get to that, let’s first familiarize ourselves with those common failings and why they’re such a problem.
The Allure Which Leads Writers Astray
When you hear the term dark fantasy, what are the first properties which spring to your mind? Some of you will think of the names I listed above; Elric of Melniboné, Warhammer 40k, Solomon Kane, and Vampire Hunter D. All of these would be fair choices in their own ways. Many more of you, though, likely thought of a certain book series turned into a once praised and then reviled big budget TV series: A Song of Ice and Fire, or as it’s now better known, Game of Thrones.
Yes, George R. R. Martin’s sprawling and unfinished - likely permanently so - epic of medieval styled politics and warfare is the modern day poster child of the genre, and where the show was concerned, it nicely captured both its positives and its pitfalls, at least to my eyes. The books I can’t really speak to. Some ten years ago now I made an effort to read them. If memory serves, he’d just released book five by that point, which meant I had plenty to go through. Alas, having found the first few chapters of A Clash of Kings to be considerably less interesting than the first book, which is where the show drew its name from, I stopped with A Game of Thrones being the only book in the series I read to completion. Seeing the state of things now, I’m rather glad for that choice.
Regardless, Game of Thrones shone a big, bright mainstream spotlight on dark fantasy as a genre in a way that nothing else before it really had, much like how Peter Jackson’s The Lord of the Rings trilogy did for high and epic fantasy. These genres always had their fans and advocates, but let’s face the facts here, us lovers of the books these movies and shows were adapted from exist within a limited niche. The Lord of the Rings is an exceptional case here, due in no small part to Tolkien being an exceptional man, but on the whole all of us who write know, even if we don’t wish to admit it, that we’re catering to a small audience in comparison to visual media.
Dark fantasy, as with most other forms of the genre, was seen as corny and cheesy for a long time; the realm of geeks, nerds, and losers. Like it or not, Game of Thrones was key to breaking this perception and earning the subgenre mainstream acceptance. One could argue it now has too much mainstream acceptance, but we’ll get to that in due course.
Whether you personally enjoyed the show or not, it was easy to understand why people did when it aired, especially when it came to the teens and young twenty-somethings that flocked to it once its sung praises caught fire. (Get it? No, I won’t apologize.) The show was violent, sexy, and grim. The characters were colorful, but in a muted way, and the world looked like it should feel something like Middle Earth until we were quickly shown how much darker it was. In other words, it threw blows that Tolkien didn’t. After so many years of mostly poor imitators trying to recreate the feeling of Jackson’s trilogy, this helped Game of Thrones feel refreshing in comparison.
And not just refreshing, but transgressive.
Thus we hit on the core allure of dark fantasy - its transgressive elements. Now to be completely fair to some naysayers that I know are out there, yes, there are undeniably strong arguments to be made nowadays for why this genre is no longer transgressive or taboo. I’ve made some of them myself in the past and I’m not about to argue that there isn’t truth to it, especially in the cases where the writers handle such elements poorly, as many often do. However, this doesn’t change the fact that at its core, taboo and transgression are meant to be major elements of the subgenre. How effective they actually are will vary, and we’ll touch on the ways we might make them effective again later on, but for now let’s simply accept that they are intrinsic elements of the genre.
Sex, violence, blood, gore, and body horror. Arguably, these are the common components that are used to make up the taboo feeling of dark fantasy stories, and we see all of these on display in Game of Thrones, but not necessarily in all dark fantasy stories. Indeed, many of these elements will end up eschewed from various stories. Dan Abnett’s lengthy Warhammer 40k series, Gaunt’s Ghost, features plenty of violence, gore, and body horror, but thus far hasn’t showcased a single instance of nudity or sex that I can recall, and I’m twelve books into the series now. On the flip side, Howard’s Conan and Solomon Kane stories often feature all of these elements. Both commonly showcase buxom and curvaceous damsels to be saved from wretched monsters of evil men, depict violence and gore, and don’t shy away from the use of body horror. However, Howard’s depiction of them is carefully balanced to favor the story.
Balance. That’s going to be a very key idea moving forward, because it’s an important factor that is often overlooked or mishandled. The allure of dark fantasy, especially for younger audiences2, comes in the form of its transgressive elements. Even so, writers must take care with how and when they utilize these elements to maximize their efficacy, otherwise the allure which they carry can and will swiftly turn into a repellant that will drive readers away and may even cause your story to be mocked and derided for how ridiculously far it goes.
This is where most inexperienced writers in the genre will fail. Due to the draw that the transgressive parts of dark fantasy have, many inexperienced writers, especially younger writers, end up approaching the genre with the idea that those elements are the most important ones for their stories. Bloody battles. Unexpected murders. Heroes that brood after eviscerating their enemies, spilling their innards into the dirt in a red stained and stinking heap! Heads lopped off to be displayed by evil warlords! Wicked witches killing puppies to use their bones in curse rituals! Sexy women and tough, scarred men with great big tits and dicks and sex, sex, sex, sex, SEX!
If you’ve taken this approach, then you’re driving down the wrong side of the road, my friend; spending too much time rubbernecking at shocking sights and far too little minding the path that you’re making this journey on.
Here’s the secret that the writers of the schlocky, the distasteful, and the outright disgusting dark fantasies out there haven’t caught onto: the transgressive elements? They’re just the trappings, the decorations that are meant to emphasize the story at the center of it all. They’re meant to act as tools to support the story you want to tell, not to be the ends of the story in and of themselves. When used carelessly, the incredible and memorable impact these elements can have will be utterly wasted, and your story will suffer for it. Fortunately, this pitfall is an avoidable one.
Looking Below the Surface
When handled well, dark fantasy stories can be wonderful to experience. They can be fun and irreverent, bold and exciting, and surprisingly thought provoking. They can also be immensely powerful, carrying with them an emotional resonance that leads to them becoming deeply beloved by their readers. The image above comes from one such example, the manga Berzerk, by the late Kentaro Miura.
Berzerk has developed a powerful and lasting legacy not only amongst fans of the manga and its anime adaptations3, but even for folks who’ve never read the series. As I touched on in my essay from last week, Barbarians, Nobility, and Lions - When A Warrior Becomes A Lord, there are many folks who have been inspired by Miura’s work in a similar way to how Miura himself was inspired by the likes of Conan. Arguably the most notable among those who drew inspiration from Miura are the team of From Software, who frequently make references to Berserk across their suite of dark fantasy action RPGs.
My point here is that dark fantasy isn’t just a haven for low quality shock content. There are genuinely powerful and lasting stories that can and should be told within it, and Berserk is just one such example. Another would be the saga of Elric of Melniboné, Michael Moorcock’s dark and brooding champion who tried to fight against the cosmic forces that set him down the path of a grim destiny he never desired. Moorcock’s Elric tales were highly influential, to the point that some of his material has been directly plagiarized from him.4 One of the more infamous instances of this comes from Warhammer 40k, wherein the symbol of the Chaos faction, an eight-pointed star that uses arrows for the points, was a design that Moorcock himself created to represent the Lords of Chaos in the Elric stories. There are other such instances of Elric influencing darker elements of fantasy fiction, though, such as with pale skinned and white haired swordsmen fighting monsters or wielding cursed and evil rune blades.
I’m getting off topic, though. The point is simply this: despite the dark elements that can so easily turn audiences away when they’re poorly used, in the hands of talented writers, dark fantasy stories can be both memorable, deeply moving, and have a lasting impact on readers and fellow creatives. How? By focusing on the elements that truly matter in the story: the plot, the characters, and the underlying messages.
Before I move any further, let me be clear when I say that your underlying messages need to be exactly that: underlying. Nobody likes having any sort of messaging slap them in the face, no matter how much they might agree with it.
Back on track. Any story needs to have characters you want to read about and/or an engaging plot for a wider audience of readers to find it desirable, but this is doubly true of genres that make use of shocking elements. Whether it’s horror, thrillers, or dark fantasy, all need to carefully manage how they use the transgressive elements inherent to them lest they detract from the story instead of enhancing it. Easy as it is to get lost in the trappings of a tale, especially if you happen to particularly enjoy said trappings, it can’t be stressed enough just how important it is for writers to keep their focus aimed in the right places. Berserk works because Miura’s characters and world are compelling, and he uses dark elements to enhance them. Elric’s saga works because of the creative way Moorcock blends more whimsical and outlandish elements of high fantasy with Elric’s often very grim world and outlook, lending it a balance that allows readers to more easily process the darker aspects. Howard balances his darker elements with adventure, heroism, and high octane action, all of which help to build excitement and investment in the perils faced by the likes of Conan and Kane.
If you find that readers are feeling as if the shock value of your story is overshadowing everything else within it, especially if it’s to the point of feeling distasteful, then it’s time to step back and reevaluate the story’s balance. Of course, while it’s all well and good to say this, a writer won’t get very far without understanding how to do this. Advice from friends and compatriots is wonderful for pointing us in the right direction, but even that won’t mean as much if we lack an understanding of one more key element in the genre, one which is very often overlooked.
Dark, Grim, and Dour, but Not Hopeless
Of all the misconceptions about dark fantasy as a wider subgenre, the single greatest I see parroted is the idea that all of its stories are hopeless. This belief is further amplified the closer you draw to the extremes of the genre, with grimdark stories such as those presented in Warhammer both drawing the biggest brunt of this claim and providing some of the worst examples to support it. For those wondering, grimdark stories are those that go all in on the darker elements of violence, gore, body horror, terror, and eternal conflict. In fact, Warhammer 40k leans into this so heavily that it’s the game’s tagline which is responsible for the creation of the term grimdark: “In the grim darkness of the 41st millennium, there is only war.”
As someone who’s been a long time fan of the Warhammer 40k property, I’ve often heard it said by those who don’t care for it that the property is only dark and gruesome and edgy and nothing else. I won’t say these detractors have no reason for saying this, either, because many of those writing for the IP have done it no favors in this regard. As I just stated, there are many stories within the Warhammer umbrella that are indeed poorly written and lean heavily on the shock value of being grimdark above all else. However, this isn’t a universal truth, and indeed if you were to get fans of the novels and wider lore to dig in and really think about it, you’d find that many would agree that the best stories within the franchise are those in which there lies a glimmer of hope.
This is the key element of dark fantasy that so often gets overlooked - hope. The best dark fantasy stories out there aren’t the ones that wallow in hopelessness and doom. They’re not the ones which do nothing but revel in the taboo side of things, acting as little more than exploitation entertainment only capable of cheap thrills.5 Stories like these are the ones which are inevitably forgotten because they provide nothing beyond what exists on the surface.
A story that shines a spotlight on the characters’ struggles, though? Those which show them enduring the awful hardships and torments so often displayed in dark fantasy stories, which pushes them to the brink and then has them find the strength to press on anyway? Those which present them as willing to die for what they believe in, to protect the people they love? Those stories, even if they end in tragedy, carry the ever important undercurrent of hope. They give us heroes to root for, men and women whom we want to see succeed against odds that seem impossible.
This is the true strength of dark fantasy; the ability to present the struggles of the characters within these stories in a more visceral way. It’s not a genre absent of heroes and hope, nor should it be. We can see the truth of this in how tiresome the public has begun to find the subversive and deconstructionist stories being pushed out of late, where there are no real heroes and people are often portrayed as being at their worst. Instead, the genre is at its best when the transgressive elements are used to support the challenges that the characters within these stories must overcome. Without these, the genre devolves into nothing more than a series of shocking set pieces absent of substance. Quite a shame, if you ask me.
The sequel movie, Conan the Destroyer, also applies here.
This is true of men in particular, but there are approaches to this which strongly appeal to women, such as the depictions of sexual dominance put on full display in the now infamous and heavily memed-upon A Court of Thorns and Roses series.
There are fair arguments to be made about a lack in quality of Berserk’s later adaptations, but having never seen them I can’t speak to how accurate they are.
I believe Moorcock very much should’ve fought against this, but the man has never been one for fighting to protect his intellectual properties. That is something which he and I very much do not see eye-to-eye on.
I say this even as someone who admittedly enjoys watching exploitation films from time to time.
Such a poignant analysis! I so enjoyed reading this.
This is a much more nuanced treatment of the material than we sometimes see. Good job!