I grew up reading lots of books. Of the many kinds, the fantasy genre had always appealed to me with its otherworldly adventures with the entire world at stake. As I grew older, I began to enjoy slice of life novels as well, set in a land much different than our own. Whether the stakes were high or low, I enjoyed experiencing the carefully crafted worlds of the authors and the characters that lived in them. Looking back now, I wonder whether reading was a kind of escapism.

I don't recall most of the details from many of the books, and it would seem that there was no lasting message the authors intended to impart, either. If there was, it must have been lost on me. What was the purpose of reading these books, then, if not to escape and enter a new world?

In reading, I'd been inspired to build my own world, whether for a book, a game, or for its own sake. In this world there are bits and pieces that came from sparks of inspiration over the years. Is there any purpose to this world, or to the worlds of others that inspired my own?