Choosing names for characters and places has always been an important part of writing fiction, and nowhere is this more true than in the fantasy genre. Fantasy names can help to flesh out a fantasy world. They can make a setting feel real, as though the characters are speaking a living language—even if you don’t have the time or the interest in actually making one.
That… or they can be distracting, confusing, and unbelievable. Many writers have crafted fantasy names that sound like little more than gibberish—specifically gibberish with the exact phonology of English. Such names aren’t always a problem; it all depends on what kind of world you’re making. But lazy fantasy names can break our immersion.
Most people assume that great character names are the product of some exceptional, innate creativity. In fact, it’s a skill you can get better at. After some practice, you’ll find that names start to just come to you when you least expect it.
A Spectrum of Techniques
It should go without saying that different writers have different methods for coming up with unique character names.
On one end of the spectrum, some writers will take a modern name, switch a few letters around, and call it done. They don’t apply any linguistic principles. Indeed, most such writers are unaware even that different languages make use of different phonemes. This usually results in names that sound like the writer’s native tongue.
On the other end of the spectrum, you have writers like J.R.R. Tolkien, who meticulously design whole languages—often just for the fun of it. Once you’ve built a lexicon of even a few hundred words, fantasy names for characters should come naturally.
But here’s the big secret: you don’t need to create a language to make up great character names. All you need is a basic phonology. Once you know what speech sounds your hypothetical language has in it, you’ll be able to develop character and place names methodically even without a vocabulary.
My Method
I fall closer to the middle of the spectrum, leaning towards the linguistic end. I usually make up a simple naming language consisting of a few hundred roots. To be honest, I’ve always found merely shuffling letters to be insufficient, but I do routinely use a similar method—one that makes use of phonology.
There are many ways one can invent fantasy names, and in this article I intend to explore how you can use some of these methods to name things in your fictional world. We’ll look at how to start creating a naming language, but we’ll also examine techniques for starting with a base name and tweaking it till it feels right.
International Phonetic Alphabet
One of the best tools for making up fantasy names is the International Phonetic Alphabet (or IPA). This is because the English alphabet only has twenty-six letters, and that’s not nearly enough for all the sounds humans use to communicate. The International Phonetic Alphabet, by contrast, can transcribe virtually any word in any language.
I know this all sounds like it would be hard to learn, but it’s really not. You only need to learn the parts of the International Phonetic Alphabet that are relevant to you. No language is going to require anywhere near all of it. English, for example, has around forty phonemes—more than the letters of its alphabet.
It may look difficult to learn, but spend even a half-hour familiarizing yourself with how the International Phonetic Alphabet works, you’ll find making up character names much easier. Some of the techniques in this article will become a lot easier, too.
Letters & Sounds
It’s time to stop thinking about letters. When we speak, we don’t speak in letters. Rather, we make sounds with different parts of our mouths. Using the International Phonetic Alphabet, we can transcribe these speech sounds (or “phonemes”) with as much or as little ambiguity as we need.
Thinking in terms of phonemes rather than letters frees you from having to worry about spelling at this stage. Right now it’s more important that you know how your names are pronounced, and once you know that, it’ll be easier deciding how to spell them. Focus on making names that sound right, rather than names that look cool on the page.
English Orthography
The International Phonetic Alphabet has a lot of advantages over the standard English alphabet when it comes to transcribing the sounds of a language, and it’s not just the number of letters available to you. It’s also the simplicity of its spelling rules compared to the utter madness of English orthography.
English routinely uses two-letter sequences (or “digraphs”) to transcribe singular sounds. Think about ⟨th⟩ and how we use it to write [θ], ⟨sh⟩ to write [ʃ], and ⟨ng⟩ to write [ŋ]. And despite the affricate [dʒ] being two sounds, in English we write it as one letter: either [j] or [g].
It’s confusing enough working with our own phonology. Imagine trying to accurately transcribe the sounds of another language this way.
Phonemes
When we think about phonology, it’s useful to arrange sounds on a chart as I’ve been doing. We arrange consonants by “place of articulation” and “manner of articulation.” Vowels are more complicated, but for our purposes it only matters where your tongue is and how rounded your lips are.
The most important thing you need to know when making up fantasy names is that different languages make use of different phonemes. English, for example, has the ⟨th⟩ sound, which the International Phonetic Alphabet renders as [θ]. You may be surprised to learn that most languages don’t use that sound.
By contrast, the Cusco variety of the Quechua language doesn’t have the [θ] sound, but it does have a uvular plosive [q] and a palatal lateral approximant [ʎ] (neither of which exist in English).
Cusco Quechua also doesn’t distinguish voiced sounds like [b] from voiceless ones like [p], but it does distinguish plain plosives [p] from aspirated [pʰ] and ejective [pʼ]. You don’t need to know how these sounds are made unless you’re making a language that has them, but it’s important to understand how different two languages can be phonemically.
Diacritics
As you may have noticed during the discussion on Quechua, you can modify letters in the International Phonetic Alphabet with symbols called “diacritics.” These include the common [◌ʰ] for aspiration, but also many more, such as [◌̃] for nasalized vowels, and [◌ː] for long sounds.
There’s are also symbols you can use to clarify which syllable should be stressed: [ˈ◌] for primary stress and [ˌ◌] for secondary. This allows us to differentiate words that English orthography renders the same way, as well as regional pronunciations of the same word. For example, we’d write “laboratory” as /ləˈbɔɹətɹi/, whereas we’d write the American pronunciation as /ˈlæbɹəˌtɔɹi/.
Don’t worry if it looks like gibberish now. You’ll soon get a feel for the International Phonetic Alphabet.
Examples
I find it’s useful to look at how some common words look when written in the International Phonetic Alphabet. This should help you get a feel for what each letter means.
English | IPA |
---|---|
cat | kæt |
dog | dɒɡ |
mouse | maʊ̯s |
father | ˈfɑːðə(ɹ) |
mother | ˈmʌðə(ɹ) |
judge | dʒʌdʒ |
they | ðeɪ̯ |
them | ðɛm |
sea | siː |
yes | jɛs |
laboratory | ləˈbɔɹətɹi |
young | jʌŋ |
thing | θɪŋ |
sing | sɪŋ |
leaf | liːf |
symphony | ˈsɪɱf(ə)ni |
cannot | kæˈnɒt |
delusion | dɪˈluːʒ(ə)n |
loch | lɒx |
fantastic | fænˈtæstɪk |
chirp | tʃəː(ɹ)p |
vile | vʌɪl |
vial | ˈvʌɪəl |
terrible | ˈtɛrɪb(ə)l |
aluminium | al(j)ʊˈmɪnɪəm |
cow | kaʊ̯ |
lieutenant | lɛfˈtɛnənt |
English | IPA |
---|---|
daughter | ˈdɑːtə(ɹ) |
son | sʌn |
zebra | ˈzɛbrə |
one | wʌn |
two | tuː |
three | θriː |
four | fɔː(ɹ) |
five | faɪ̯v |
six | sɪks |
seven | ˈsɛv(ə)n |
eight | eɪt |
nine | naɪ̯n |
ten | tɛn |
high | haɪ̯ |
borrow | ˈbɔɹoʊ̯ |
giving | ˈɡɪvɪŋ |
righteous | ˈrʌɪ̯tʃəs |
where | ʍeː(ɹ) |
whence | ʍɛns |
weather | ˈwɛðə(ɹ) |
whether | ˈʍɛðə(ɹ) |
food | fuːd |
chef | ʃɛf |
short | ʃɔː(ɹ)t |
welcome | ˈwɛlkəm |
about | əˈbaʊ̯t |
solution | səˈluːʃ(ə)n |
Phonemic Inventory
Whether you’re planning on making a whole language or just a few characters, it’s important to set yourself some ground-rules for how your language should sound. We do this by deciding which phonemes exist in our hypothetical language.
The easiest way to make up a phonemic inventory is to get your hands on an International Phonetic Alphabet chart and then start circling letters.
For this example, I thought about what might make for an interesting phonology. To make things interesting, I decided this language shouldn’t make use of velar plosives—those are [k] and [g]. Instead I decided to add a series of retroflex sounds, which means you make them by curling your tongue back.
So this leaves us with [p], [b], [t], [d], [ʈ], and [ɖ]. I also threw in a glottal stop [ʔ], which is the pause in “uh-oh” /ˈʌ̆ʔ˦oʊ̯˨/. For nasal sounds, I decided to keep things simple: just [n]. I also wanted to add one trill, and I went with the French ⟨r⟩, which is [ʀ] in the International Phonetic Alphabet.
When it came to fricatives, I decided not to differentiate phonemes by voicing. I chose five fricatives to correspond roughly with the other sounds I’m using. Since I already have sounds in the bilabial, alveolar, retroflex, and uvular places of articulation, I went with the following voiceless fricatives: labiodental [f], dental [θ], alveolar [s], retroflex [ʂ], and uvular [χ].
Vowel Inventory
I wanted to keep the vowels relatively simple, so I thought a three-vowel system would work best. Most three-vowel languages have vowel systems resembling the following: [a], [i], [u]—often they also incorporate vowel length as well. I chose not to use vowel length here, and I thought it would be interesting if the three vowels were [i], [ɛ], and [ɔ] instead.
Phonotactics
For more complex phonologies, I recommend grouping the sounds by where they can appear in the syllable. Onset consonants can appear at the beginning, intervocalic between vowels, and coda at the end. This is especially useful when your language is going to have a lot of consonant clusters.
Vowels appear in what is known as the “nucleus” of a syllable. Tonal languages will have a tone associated with the vowel, but since this language isn’t tonal, that’s not relevant right now. Generally we think of syllables as consisting of an onset (ω), a nucleus (ν), a tone (τ), and a coda (κ). Although all syllables must have a nucleus of some sort, the other parts of a syllable are usually optional.
Since I want to keep this example as simple as I can, I’ll just assume any consonant can appear anywhere. As for consonant clusters, I’ll handle them on a case-by-case basis. If it feels right, I’ll put two consonants together. For many languages, you’ll want to make some more concrete rules for clusters. For this example, however, I think it’s fine to do it this way.
Making Up Words
The next step is to use the list of phonemes you’ve made to make up a selection of words. This is as simple as arranging these phonemes according to your constraints. I do this so much that I’ve even coded myself a computer program to automate this step, but all you really need to do is shuffle sounds around.
As I hinted at early in this article, the more you make up words with phonemes in mind, the better you’ll get at it. With some practice, inventing interesting words—even from thin air—can become second-nature. After I’d been doing this for some time, character names began popping into my head daily. At the time of writing this, I’ve compiled a spreadsheet with more names than I have characters and places to name.
Remember that consonants usually come either before or after a vowel. If things are more complex, it can be useful to think of Onset-Nucleus-Coda (represented by the Greek letters: “ωνκ”). For this example, however, I decided to use mostly sequences of Consonant-Vowel-Consonant (or “CVC”), with all consonants appearing in all positions.
Look to Afroasiatic
One technique I’ve always found useful is to take a bit of inspiration from the Afroasiatic family of languages. These languages—which include Arabic, Hebrew, and Ancient Egyptian, just to name a few—are known for their rather unique approach to forming roots: (tri)consonantal roots.
Put very simply, the basic meaning of any given word is contained in its consonants: usually a sequence of three. To narrow down the specifics, the consonants are arranged in various templates that provide the vowels.
For example, the Arabic root /k-t-b/ has the general meaning of being related to writing. This then forms various words related to that meaning, such as: /ka.ta.ba/ ( “to write”), /ki.taːb/ (“book”), and /mak.ta.ba/ (“library” or “bookshop”).
The idea of forming roots from just consonants may sound like it would only be useful to you if you’re making a language reminiscent of Afroasiatic, but the idea of starting with consonants can actually help you come up with names no matter what sort of language you’ve envisioned.
Consonantal Roots
When you’re shuffling phonemes around in search of your next great character or place name, you’ll sometimes feel a bit stuck; even after you’ve narrowed down what phonemes your fictional language uses, you’re still dealing with near-endless options.
Most of your fictional languages may not be particularly developed beyond phonology, and they often not be Afroasiatic-inspired. But as a writer, you’re free to use whatever method works. In such moments, I recommend breaking the process down into several stages. That’s where consonantal roots come in.
Start by making up a sequence of between two and four consonants. Once you’ve got something you like, play around with different arrangements of vowels till the name sounds right. Remember that if your fictional language’s phonotactics allow it, you can experiment with consonant clusters, too.
And don’t forget that you can also try the inverse: start with two or three vowels and then try various arrangements of consonants till something jumps out at you. Due to the nature of vowels, this isn’t as useful as the consonant method, but it can be helpful on occasion.
A Small Lexicon
I used my phonemic inventory to make a list of thirty root words—easily enough for the purposes of this example. If you plan to create a more complete language, you’ll need a lot more. I also decided on the translations of each word; this will become important when we put the words together.
Morpheme | Translation |
---|---|
ˈθɔb | “mountain” |
ˈʈiχ | “boar” |
ˈʀɛʀ | “oak” |
ˈχɔt | “spear” |
ˈʀɛʈ | “wolf” |
ˈfɔθ | “bull” |
ˈpɔʔ | “waterfall” |
ˈɔχ | “bone” |
ˈʂɛb | “river” |
ˈθɛʀ | “spring” |
Morpheme | Translation |
---|---|
ˈbɛχ | “summer” |
ˈʔiʂ | “beautiful” |
ˈʈɔʔ | “sun” |
ˈθɔχ | “tongue” |
ˈɔd | “pine” |
ˈip | “bright” |
ˈχɛs | “wise” |
ˈɖɔd | “flower” |
ˈɔf | “heir” |
ˈɔʀ | “grey” |
Morpheme | Translation |
---|---|
ˈχiʈ | “horse” |
ˈfif | “coal” |
ˈɖɛʔ | “foot” |
ˈiχ | “blood” |
ˈɔʂ | “winter” |
ˈdɛf | “servant” |
ˈpɛχ | “iron” |
ˈiθ | “strong” |
ˈʀɔb | “tree” |
ˈʈɛp | “bird” |
Compound Names
Once you have a list of words, you may want to decide what they mean, as I did. Alternatively, you might prefer to ignore meaning and focus on sound. Either approach is fine, so long as the sounds feel consistent. In any case, the next step is usually to make some compounds to serve as names for places and characters.
It’s a good idea to do some research as to how different languages form compounds. These range from noun-noun, verb-noun, verb-verb, and an overwhelming number of other configurations. Also, you’ll probably want to think about what word order you want for your language. For instance, do adjectives come after the noun or before?
False Cognates
Remember also that two names might sound like they should be related, but they may not be.
It is often assumed that “John” is short for “Jonathan,” but aside from both being English forms of Hebrew names, “John” and “Jonathan” are mostly unrelated.
The name “John” is ultimately derived from the Hebrew name “Yochanan,” meaning “Yahweh is gracious.” “Jonathan,” by contrast, comes from another Hebrew name: “Yehonatan,” which means “Yahweh has given.”
“John” and “Jonathan” are no more the same name than “Roger” and “Robert”. They may share the element “hroð-,” but that doesn’t make them equivalent.
“Roger” comes from the Germanic name “Hroðgar,” which is made up of the elements “hroð” (fame) and “ger” (spear). “Robert” shares the “hroð” bit, but has the element “beraht” (bright) in place of “ger.”
Making Compounds
For this example language, I decided to be lazy and default to noun-adjective and noun-noun compounds. Adjectives will come after the noun. This step can get quite complex when you really get into it, but I’ll try to keep it as easy to understand as possible.
I’ll start with a noun-adjective compound. For the noun, I decided on /ˈdɛf/ (servant). Then I added the adjective /ˈpɛχ/ (iron), giving us the compound /ˈdɛfpɛχ/. Because [f] and [p] are relatively similar sounds, I thought it would make sense if they merged. There are a number of ways to do this, but I just removed the [f], leaving us with /ˈdɛpɛχ/ as our first compound.
I’ll be honest; I like it because it kind of reminds me of the Medieval Wallachian ruler Vlad Dracula’s epithet: Țepeș /ˈtsepeʃ/, which means “the impaler.”
Sound Shifts
I came up with a few more names, occasionally changing a sound or two if it looks a bit hard to pronounce. When you do change sounds, remember that phonemes shift in predictable ways.
To be honest, I don’t usually worry too much about being entirely consistent with my sound changes; I just change sounds when I want a compound to sound a bit different. Unless your fictional language is an end unto itself, you don’t need to be entirely naturalistic. Do whatever results in good character names.
For example, let’s say I have a word like /ˈɔχɔt/, which ends in the plosive [t]. Since plosives frequently soften into fricatives, I might decide to change the alveolar plosive [t] into either [θ] or [s], resulting in /ˈɔχɔθ/ or /ˈɔχɔs/. In a real language, a particular sound shift will likely expand to the whole lexicon. But if you’re not interested in making a full constructed language, you don’t need to waste undue time here.
The only thing you absolutely need to keep in mind is that sound changes aren’t random. They happen because people are naturally lazy with their speech. In other words, you’re unlikely to see [p] changing to [l] or [x] within only a few generations.
And please don’t change [dʒ] to [k] or vice-versa just because ⟨j⟩ and ⟨k⟩ are right next to each other in the arbitrary English Alphabet. There are ways for almost any sound to become almost any other, but you need a good reason for that to happen. Just so we’re clear.
Name List
In the end, I came up with fifteen names within a half-hour. Considering I started with only twice as many root words, I think that’s pretty good. Given a bit more time and a few more root words, you could name an entire story’s worth of characters this way.
IPA | Meaning |
---|---|
ˈʈiχɔt | “boar spear” |
ˈʀɛʀɔχ | “oak bone” |
ˈɖɔdip | “bright flower” |
ˈʈɔʔiʂ | “beautiful sun” |
ˈθɛʀɔf | “spring heir” |
IPA | Meaning |
---|---|
ˈθɔχip | “bright tongue” |
ˈdɛpɛχ | “iron servant” |
ˈχiʈiθ | “strong horse” |
ˈθɔχɛs | “wise tongue” |
ˈɔχɔs | “bone spear” |
IPA | Meaning |
---|---|
ˈbɛχʈɔʔ | “summer sun” |
ˈɖɛʔiχ | “bleeding foot” |
ˈɔʂʈɛp | “winter bird” |
ˈʀɔbiθ | “strong tree” |
ˈʂɛbɔʀ | “grey river” |
These names each have two syllables, but if you like consonant clusters, you could easily take out a few vowels and bring some of them down to one syllable. Conversely, you could make up names using three or more of these monosyllabic roots. It all depends on how you want your character names to sound.
Placeholder Names
I’ve criticized authors for using slightly-modified modern names before, but I feel I should clarify what I meant. There’s nothing wrong with creating a name by tweaking a word—any word from any language—but it’s hard to tweak words realistically when you ignore the relationships between phonemes.
It’s perfectly fine to use a placeholder name for a character until you can fashion a better one. For a placeholder name, I usually find one or two decent-sounding words in some language or other. What language you use depends entirely on your preferences. I usually use Germanic or Celtic elements, but you really can use anything.
Tweaking a Placeholder
You may even find—as I often have—that your placeholder name just needs a few sound-shifts to turn it into the perfect name for your character. Maybe you replace a plosive with its corresponding fricative, or one vowel quality with another. You may be surprised by how easy it is to get a great name from what you thought was a placeholder.
If you’ve already got a phonemic inventory figured out, this should be even easier. Assuming I’ve been using the names of Mesopotamian deities as placeholders, I could filter those names through the phonology we just created.
Original Name | In Our Invented Language |
---|---|
enkimdu | ˈɛniɖɔ |
imdugud | ˈiɖɔʀɔd |
taʃmetu | ˈtɛʂnɛθ |
enzag | ˈɛʈʂɛʀ |
iʃum | ˈiʂɔn |
lahmu | ˈɛʔnɔ |
It’s easy to find real-world examples that illustrate my point even better. The Hawaiian language has a very limited inventory of phonemes. Thus, when an English name enters the Hawaiian namepool, it has to change considerably. The name “John” /ˈd͡ʒɒn/ not only contains the [d͡ʒ] sound, but it also ends with a consonant. Neither is possible in Hawaiian, so /ˈd͡ʒɒn/ becomes /ke.ˈo.ni/. I’ve included a list of other examples:
English | English (IPA) | Hawaiian (IPA) |
---|---|---|
Edward | ˈɛd.wəɹd | ekeˈwaka |
Elizabeth | ɛˈlɪzəbəθ | ʔelikaˈpeka |
Anthony | ˈæn.θə.ni | anaˈkoni |
Jacob | ˈd͡ʒeɪ̯.kəb | i.aˈkopa |
Christina | kɹɪsˈtiːnə | kiliˈkina |
Victoria | vɪkˈtɔːɹi.ə | wikoˈli.a |
Once you have a phonemic inventory, it’s not too difficult to apply similar changes to any name you want. You’ll often find that a name is unrecognizable afterwards; this is usually what you want.
Retrofit Meaning
The best part of using sound changes on a placeholder is that you can retrofit meaning afterwards. If you’re making a naming language, you can decide that the name is derived from one or more words in that language. Assign meaning to those words, and you’ve got a name that fits perfectly into your world.
Spelling
Only now, having determined the pronunciations of our names, do we consider spelling. This is because, at earlier stages, spelling is a distraction. It can stop us from seeing when our names need a bit more tweaking, and it’s easy to not realize that our fantasy names might be a bit confusing to pronounce.
One thing to remember is that a name your readers can’t physically pronounce is almost always preferable to one whose spelling makes it hard to know the pronunciation. The key is to stay consistent, at least within any one language.
I’ve actually written a whole article on the subject of how to spell the names you’ve invented, so I recommend reading that next.
Anglicized Names
Unfortunately, there’s a good chance you won’t be able to encode all your phonemic information using only the Latin script. My advice is to do what you can, but just know that your readers likely won’t be able to pronounce these names anyway. You’ll need to accept that most English-speakers will anglicize your fantasy names no matter what you do.
Keep It Simple
I generally like to keep spellings relatively simple. For the fantasy names in our example language, I kept most of the spelling rules pretty standard. Because I only have one rhotic sound (in this case [ʀ]), I chose to spell that simply as ⟨r⟩.
Aside from that, I stuck pretty close to English spelling rules. I’ll represent the glottal stop [ʔ] with an apostrophe ⟨’⟩ and the uvular fricative [χ] with the digraph ⟨ch⟩. I feel this works because I don’t use ⟨ch⟩ anywhere else in this language’s orthography.
Yes, most English-speakers will pronounce it /t͡ʃ/, and for that reason I’d usually go with ⟨kh⟩ in practice, but we’ll stick to ⟨ch⟩ for this example.
For the retroflex sounds, there’s not really any way to get English-speakers to pronounce them correctly, so I chose to represent these sounds by simply doubling up the letter for the corresponding alveolar sound. I used ⟨tt⟩ for [ʈ], ⟨dd⟩ for [ɖ], and ⟨ss⟩ for [ʂ].
Spelling Examples
Using the above spelling rules, I was able to come up with the following spellings. I cannot stress enough that most people won’t pronounce them correctly. For those who are curious, it’s always a good idea to include a pronunciation guide.
IPA | Orthography |
---|---|
ˈʈiχɔt | Ttichot |
ˈʀɛʀɔχ | Reroch |
ˈɖɔdip | Ddodip |
ˈʈɔʔiʂ | Tto’is |
ˈθɛʀɔf | Therof |
IPA | Orthography |
---|---|
ˈθɔχip | Thochip |
ˈdɛpɛχ | Depech |
ˈχiʈiθ | Chittith |
ˈθɔχɛs | Thoches |
ˈɔχɔs | Ochos |
IPA | Orthography |
---|---|
ˈbɛχʈɔʔ | Bechtto’ |
ˈɖɛʔiχ | Dde’ich |
ˈɔʂʈɛp | Ossttep |
ˈʀɔbiθ | Robith |
ˈʂɛbɔʀ | Ssebor |
Conclusion
Inventing fantasy names doesn’t have to involve a massive amount of work, but in order for fantasy names to be believable, one should learn at least the basics of how languages form names.
Using an even slightly methodical approach to fantasy names can improve your character and place names drastically. Even if you start with a run-of-the-mill English name, sufficient phoneme shifts can make it sound like it’s from a whole other language. The best part is that your readers will never know.
While having to learn even a fraction of the International Phonetic Alphabet may seem intimidating, this can make the job far easier. It’ll save you from having to invent your own system of phonetic transcription later.
You don’t have to be Tolkien to invent great fantasy names. It’s not some secret art that can’t be learnt. There are many techniques you can use, but these are the ones I’ve found to be the most effective. I hope that, in sharing them here, I can be of some help to some who’ve struggled with this all-important task.
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