by SamMaze

In the Futuristic sub-genre of Fantasy, writers can reach for the stars—and grab them.

Think of everything you know, and make it faster. Smarter. Smaller. Now you have an idea of what could be.

This sub-genre is not to be confused with Sci-Fi or topics involving space but is a cousin to them. Dystopian could be considered its angry twin. The Futuristic sub-genre takes an idea and propels it years ahead where it becomes part of normal life. Magic and technology can mix, which can form a tempting menu of opportunities. Imagine living, thinking trees wrapped around a metropolis, tamed dragons flapping above sleek trains and coffees that modify your hair color. Changes can be as large or small as you wish.

Probably one of the best things about Futuristic Fantasy is that you never know what to expect. There are no set guidelines, no defined boundaries that scream This is what you do! Although some reoccurring themes include:

*The setting in an urban/underworld environment.

*Strong teen characters to appeal to YA readers.

*The questions of what leadership/humanity is, and what the community has gained and lost in the future.

Legend and its trilogy by Marie Lu are filed under Futuristic Fantasy, among others, due to its take on a world gone both forward and backward. Her streets lack continuous electricity and medical help for a growing plague, but at its elite core residents have access to powerful tech with advancements that are near-magical.

Another Sun is a short story by Maggie Stiefvater in the anthology The Curiosities. Here, she explores the magic and danger of fires that never go out. In this same book, she also has the short story Heart-Shaped Box which takes on a dark city and (literal) hearts. These are in Futuristic Fantasy for their narrative of strong YA characters in a new world, and the choices that can be made to change it.

The City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau tells the plight of an underground city falling apart, and the protagonists that must find a way to save the dim magic of their home before it destroys them. Fast action, mystery, and adventure surround scenes like a movie, but Ember takes its place in Futuristic Fantasy for the rediscovery of modern technology in a place set far beyond our time.

War Paint by Sam Maze dives into the world of professional fighters that use magical paint enhancements to gain precarious victory. This expanding story focuses not just on the bells and whistles of an advanced sport, but also the repercussions of a decision you can't go back on.

I personally enjoy writing Futuristic Fantasy because it makes the impossible possible. You can set your own rules, reinvent the wheel for a forgotten trade, and put in motion extraordinary things. Life imitates art, which in turn inspires the next generation of creativity. I believe that some of the things we imagine today may be tomorrow's norm.

So go wild, and make the future.

Example of Futuristic Fantasy on Wattpad:
War Paint by SamMaze

Synopsis:

"The paint tingled already where it dried on her skin, but the sensation was nothing compared to when it was activated on the arena floors. Once there, anything could happen.

Even a win that would let her fight another day."

Excerpt:

The light swam back and forth in front of River's face. She shifted her feet in a small dance to accommodate the train's twists and turns. The handles on the wall were full of bored and scared passengers—you could always tell who was here for the first time.

River grimaced as the train's floor dropped from under her. A scream from a girl beside her nearly earned her attention. The boy directly next to the girl swore, not used to the unfaithful G-force.

Dark. Light. Dark. Then an unnatural gray washed over the windows, dirtying them with its bleakness.

The passengers around River rushed out quickly, as if the train would suck them back in if they didn't gain enough distance. When River moved with them she hummed a simple tune, transitioning her little dance of balance into a stop and shuffle to reach the elevator. It was cold and cramped once the doors closed around them.

Her floor number was already lit in blue. Most of the sardine people packed around her were chatting about the event.

"...heard Justice Wings has a special move planned tonight—"

"—Oh yeah! Didn't you see her Snippet about it? She's gonna go scalpin'!"

"Scalping is below Justice," sniffed a mother of two.

"Actually," one of the daughters at her hand said, "she's done it before."

"But they're healed most of the time," a teen chirped helpfully to the mother.

A smile threatened to grow on River's face. She worked her lips into submission as the elevator opened.

Throbbing music filled the air, drowning out the DJ making commercial announcements and row ushers directing traffic. River skirted the edge of this fray to an unmarked door. She tried to keep her eyes off the jumbotron centered above the main arena. There, her opponents grinned, flipped, and flexed their muscles with their name and stats scrolling to the side. She could tell when Justice appeared on screen. An entire row jumped to their feet, many of them clad in bobbing black wigs.

"Name?" the guard growled.

River tugged the ID card hidden under her sweatshirt.

Giving a harrumph, the guard uncrossed his arms and let her through. The stairs were narrow, but led to a spacious second floor filled with countless doors. Many of them were without stars tonight, but River had heard from a retiree that at one time, there was a waiting list for this venue. River just liked it because it was fifteen minutes away from home.

It was growing close to show time. As a result, River owned the hallway to her room for the night. On the inside of her door, a clipboard was magnetized. It gave a name, and a list.

Arrow Aster.

She skimmed by the age, weight, height, and catch phrase to the important information.

Speed: x3

Strength: x7

Sight: x1

Other: x5

Leaning back in her swivel chair, River pushed herself into a circle until she became dizzy. Where most would have a tactist at this stage whispering in their ear, River had to form her own strategy. Tactists were for the mentally weak. Plus... she didn't have enough wins to have them give her a second glance.

She changed into her dressing robe, and examined the paints before her. Three tins, and one pallet.

Yellow for speed. Magenta for strength. Cyan for sight. In paint matches, the fourth option was for the brave. You could mix the powerful primaries for equally mixed results. River never claimed to be a risk taker, but sometimes the pallet seemed an escape to her mediocre rookie years. She would soon be in her third year of this business, and pity—and closed doors—would be the only outstretched hand to her.

She hovered over the pallet. Maybe this time she would try it.

Inspirations:

Setting

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Characters

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Music

https://youtu.be/dgCnYsDTiXU