I'm reading a book that takes place in the fictional Kingdom of Adarlan, a place that shares no direct relation to the planet Earth, and two characters in the book are playing chess.
My eyes narrow in accusatory confusion, I pull out my phone, and text my partner, who recommended the book. The next twenty minutes involve a heated text discussion regarding the existence of chess in a fantasy setting, which in turn leads to an aggressive parasite called 'immersion' forever lodging itself in my brain.
Chess' presence in the book I was reading broke my immersion. From my point of view, chess shouldn't exist in a fantasy setting, because chess is a game, which means it's a piece of art. A person in a fantasy setting playing chess is like a person in a fantasy setting viewing The Mona Lisa. The Mona Lisa would not exist if not for Leonardo da Vinci being born, studying to be an artist, developing his style, and getting commissioned to create a portrait of an Italian noblewoman. None of that would happen in the Kingdom of Adarlan (for many, many obvious reasons), and the same logic applies to chess.
Some people might find that analogy odd, and I get it. Chess is old. Chess is everywhere. Chess' global popularity throughout history helps detach it from the notion that it belongs to any particular human culture. We also don't know who created chess. But, we do know that chess originates from 8th century India, and we also know that many of the pieces' names and original designs were likely inspired by Indian culture prior to localization efforts that helped popularize the game throughout the world. Elephants were likely used as a game piece at one point.
On the other hand, we know who created The Mona Lisa, when it was created, and can link it to a particular location and culture. The lack of information we have about chess' origin doesn't change the fact that chess is a piece of art, but it does make chess feel universal in a way that few pieces of art do.
I know a lot of people might not be bothered by chess' presence in a fantasy setting, and that's okay! I'm not trying to criticize the book I read (nor its author) for chess being included in the story. Different people will be un-immersed by different things. Chess bothered me because I'm rather anal about worldbuilding in fiction (caf in Star Wars bothers me too, for example). My partner had no issue with chess, and our disagreement sparked a very insightful conversation regarding how personal perspective influences immersion.
An object that exists outside its proper place is called an anatopism, etymologically and conceptually related to the more well-known anachronism. Anatopisms in fiction, especially genre fiction, are tough to spot because the fictional worlds we create are always informed by the real world we live in. It's hard to determine what is and isn't an anatopism in worldbuilding, because technically, most elements of a fictional world that aren't strictly technological (farming, roads) would be anatopistic.
Culture is unique to the societies and people that create it, so basically anything that involves culture in some way would technically be anatopistic in a world that didn't arise directly from Earth. Technology is easier to justify as not being anatopistic in a storyworld, since technological development is much more linear compared to the creation of culture. This dichotomy creates a sort of 'spectrum of anatopism in worldbuilding' where some elements of a storyworld would never exist in a fantasy setting (particular pieces of art, for example) while other elements will almost certainly exist (towns, agriculture, etc.) It's best to use your judgment when considering what elements of the real world you'll include in the fictional ones you create, but it's good to keep this spectrum in mind so that you avoid un-immersing your target audience.
Much of this assumes that the worlds being built are taking a Tolkien-esque approach to worldbuilding, where most elements of the storyworld (barring a few things like clothing or architecture) are fundamentally different from our reality, barring themes and subtext. Plenty of stories take another approach to worldbuilding, weaving elements from our real world into their setting in a way that purposefully creates parallels between our world and the storyworld. Robert Kurvitz's setting for ZA/UM's Disco Elysium includes disco music and many other cultural elements from our world, but the inclusion of those elements is an intentional thread in the game's narrative fabric. The reason disco works in Disco Elysium and chess doesn't work in most fantasy stories is twofold: first, because disco music in Disco Elysium is one of many cultural elements being borrowed, and second because those elements of culture the game's story borrows are used to make thematic points within the game's narrative. There's an intentionality behind the inclusion of those elements that defines and justifies the game's approach to worldbuilding.
Chess in fantasy stories is often one of the only cultural elements borrowed from our world, which makes it a deviation from the worldbuilding approach the author is otherwise taking. Regarding its narrative intent, chess is usually included as a way to indicate a particular character's intelligence or relationship with another character, but that same goal can be accomplished by making up a new, fictional strategy game. Doing so would be more in line with the worldbuilding approach author tend to take when writing fantasy. This isn't a matter of sticking to a specific worldbuilding approach for the sake of tradition or genre consistency, it's a matter of authorial intention, thoughtfulness, and narrative consistency. As long as a world is built with distinct and careful intention, these issues are less likely to arise for audience members who care about this sort of thing.
But if you want to include chess in your fantasy story, go for it! Just keep in mind the potential consequences that decision will have for your audience. Writing is a creative endeavor, breaking rules is a time-honored tradition in art, and so long as your art connects with your audience, you’re probably doing something right.
Immersion Count: 5