That does not mean you must scrub every familiar cue from an invented setting. It means you should know which real-world assumptions players will read inside it—and whether those choices are deliberate worldbuilding or unexamined defaults. Allegorical distance is how you keep inspiration without accidentally shipping someone else’s culture under a new name.
This companion to Game Culturalization: How to Design for Global Audiences Without Losing Your Creative Vision draws primarily on culturalization strategist Kate Edwards (CEO, Geogrify) from the Beyond Localization conversation with Nadzeya Drahun of Alconost. For representing real-world cultures without flattening them into shorthand, see how to represent cultures without stereotypes.
Why aren't fictional game worlds culture-free?
Even an invented setting can inherit real-world cultural meaning through gestures, symbols, religion, architecture, and other creative decisions. In this short video, Kate Edwards explains why fantasy and sci-fi worldbuilding still need cultural awareness.
Almost every single thing that game developers make is a combination of real-world inspiration and imagination. It's fine to take something from the real world as the start of the creative process—but then you need enough allegorical distance so what you implement is sufficiently different from the real-world culture, unless your goal is to replicate that culture.
Imagination rarely starts from zero
Fictional worlds are usually built from a mixture of real history, architecture, languages, religious symbolism, political structures, clothing traditions, social systems, folklore, mythology, and geography—then combined with new ideas. That is normal. Even when a game does not directly represent a real culture, its fictional cultures may still function as allegories or carry recognizable cultural cues.
Ask not only “Is this fictional?” but also “What real-world assumptions are players likely to see inside it?”
Fictional does not mean culturally neutral
Consider a fantasy kingdom. You may invent its name, geography, rulers, magic system, monsters, and history—then still fill it with medieval European castles, Christian-looking grave markers, feudal titles, European-style royal clothing, familiar military ranks, and Western wedding imagery. The world is fictional. The cultural vocabulary is not.
None of those references is automatically wrong. The question is whether you chose them intentionally or simply treated them as the default visual language for “fantasy.”
The grave-marker problem
One example from Kate’s work captures the issue especially well. On Kameo—a completely fictional universe—an artist placed a wooden cross beside a road to indicate a grave. The intention was clear: someone died here. But the universe did not contain Christianity. So why would that culture use a Christian-style cross as its grave marker?
When I worked on Kameo, it's a completely fictional universe, and yet they had a grave marker that was a wooden cross on the side of the road. I asked the artist why—and they said they needed a grave marker. There is no Christianity in that universe. So why would they use a crucifix?
That small question opens worldbuilding: how does this culture understand death? Do people bury or cremate? Do they leave markers, remember the dead individually, or hold funerals? Which symbols represent death, and what materials would they use? A generic asset suddenly becomes a cultural system—and that is why culturalization can strengthen fictional worldbuilding rather than only constrain it.
Default symbols are rarely neutral
Creators rely on visual shorthand because it communicates quickly: a cross for a grave, a crown for a ruler, a white robe for a priest, a skull for danger, a handshake for agreement, a thumbs-up for approval. Those signs are efficient because audiences already recognize them—and that recognition comes from real cultural history.
If a fictional society uses the same symbol, there should ideally be some internal reason for it. Otherwise the game may borrow meaning from the real world without acknowledging it—one of the patterns that also shows up in cultural traps in localization.
Gestures carry cultural assumptions too
Gestures are especially easy to treat as universal: nods, bows, pointing, thumbs-up, crossed fingers, eye contact, touch. The animation may feel completely natural to the development team. Gestures do not mean the same thing everywhere—and that matters twice in a fictional world. Real players may interpret the gesture differently, and the fictional culture itself may have no reason to use it.
Even in a fictional world, they'll use a thumbs-up because they feel most humans will understand it. But the thumbs-up does not universally mean okay. In some countries, it's the middle finger. We have to be extremely careful about assuming a gesture is universal.
A science-fiction species that evolved separately from humans does not automatically need modern human body language. You may still choose familiar gestures because readability matters. The useful question is whether that choice is deliberate.
Readability and worldbuilding sometimes compete
Games rely on familiar signals because players need to understand things quickly. A fictional hospital sign or grave marker could be completely original—and still fail if players miss its meaning. The design tension is real: how much familiarity does the player need, and how much cultural originality does the world need?
There is no single correct answer. Recognize the trade-off. You can intentionally use familiar conventions while still asking whether those conventions fit the setting.
What is allegorical distance?
Kate uses allegorical distance to describe a core worldbuilding principle. A fictional culture can begin with real-world inspiration—a historical empire, a modern country, a religious tradition, a language, a political movement. If the goal is not to reproduce that culture directly, the team should do enough additional creative work that the result becomes meaningfully distinct.
If the final version preserves nearly every recognizable element and changes only the name, players may still read it as a direct representation. Greater distance often means transforming social structure, visual motifs, architecture, naming, religion, language, political organization, clothing, rituals, and historical background. The goal is not to obscure all inspiration—it is to create enough original cultural logic that the fictional culture becomes its own thing.
Decide whether you are representing or borrowing
A useful early distinction:
- Direct representation — The game deliberately depicts a real culture, place, or historical community. Accuracy and specificity may be central.
- Fictional inspiration — You borrow selected ideas from real cultures without trying to reproduce them. Transform those references carefully.
- Loose aesthetic borrowing — Motifs are used mainly for visual identity. Especially risky when elements are stripped of meaning and combined purely for appearance.
Know which mode you are using. Problems often arise when creators think they are doing loose fictional inspiration while players perceive direct representation—the flip side of the challenge covered in representing cultures without stereotypes.
Language and names carry cultural coding
Fictional languages can evoke East Asia, Scandinavia, Eastern Europe, the Middle East, Latin, or Indigenous languages even when no real language is used. Kate mentions work on Jade Empire, where a fictional language called Fofan was created to sound broadly Asian rather than directly using Chinese or another existing language—another form of cultural distance.
If a fictional language sounds extremely close to a specific real language, players may assume the fictional culture represents that group. Character and place names work the same way: a fictional empire whose names all resemble one real naming tradition may appear more directly tied to that culture than you intended. Ask:
- Which languages inspire the names?
- Are unrelated naming systems being mixed?
- Do names form real words or unwanted meanings in major target languages?
- Is one naming tradition being used to imply villainy, mystery, or exoticism?
Architecture and clothing as cultural storytelling
Architecture is rarely just background. A building can communicate religion, government, class, climate, technology, history, and social organization. A temple or palace strongly inspired by a real sacred or royal tradition may bring that tradition’s meaning with it. Ask why this culture builds this way—climate, materials, religion, defense, status, technology, history—rather than only “because it looks cool.”
Costume design codes identity just as fast. Garments inspired by military uniforms, religious clothing, traditional dress, regional textiles, or historical armor make characters distinctive—and create associations. If one fictional group consistently wears clothing strongly tied to one real culture, players may read the group’s narrative role through that lens too—especially when that group is cast as the villain, the “primitive,” the fanatic, or the exotic other.
Religion and politics enter through familiar shorthand
Fictional religions often import priests, temples, sacred books, confession, pilgrimage, prayer positions, halos, cross-like symbols, or monastic clothing from particular real-world traditions. That is not inherently a problem—but the religion gets stronger when you define belief, authority, death, ritual, the sacred/forbidden, and how faith connects to government and everyday life. Copying familiar aesthetics without that logic creates decoration.
Fantasy kingdoms likewise reproduce kings, queens, nobility, empires, republics, councils, and dictatorships—with assumptions about legitimacy, class, inheritance, citizenship, gender, power, and law. A fictional political system does not need to be unprecedented, but it should make sense inside the world’s history. The same applies to conflicts that appear invented while closely paralleling a real historical or contemporary situation: if the allegory is obvious, players may interpret every narrative decision through that real-world comparison.
Cultural mixing needs internal logic
Many fantasy settings intentionally blend influences—Ottoman-style domes with Japanese clothing, Scandinavian names, Mesoamerican motifs. Creative synthesis can produce distinctive worlds. Random mixing can feel incoherent. Ask why these elements coexist: trade, migration, empire, religion crossing borders, imported versus local styles. A fictional history can make a mixed aesthetic believable; without that logic, the setting can read as a pile of unrelated references.
Avoid using “exotic” as the entire design brief
“Make it feel exotic” creates no meaningful cultural logic. Define geography, climate, economy, resources, religion, government, family structures, historical conflicts, trade, technology, rituals, and attitudes toward outsiders—then let visual identity emerge from those systems. The more the culture has its own internal logic, the less it depends on borrowed stereotypes.
Internal variation and ordinary life
Real cultures are not uniform; fictional ones should not necessarily be either. Region, class, religion, generation, politics, profession, urban versus rural life, and relationship with tradition all create credible depth. If every member of a fictional group dresses identically, shares the same beliefs, speaks the same way, and holds the same politics, the culture feels more like a faction label than a society.
Worldbuilding often focuses on kings, wars, magic, religion, armies, and great cities. Culture also appears in ordinary life: food, greetings, family life, childhood, death, manners, celebration, clothing at home, travel, markets. Those details can create more cultural depth than another monumental temple.
Culturalization can reveal better creative questions
A cultural review is sometimes imagined as a list of warnings. The grave-marker example shows something more useful. The consultant asks why the cross is there—which forces the designer to ask how this culture remembers the dead. That second question can improve the game.
Similar questions improve the world:
- Why does this ruler wear a crown?
- Why do these people bow or salute?
- Why are temples built this way?
- Why is this gesture insulting?
Those are culturalization questions and worldbuilding questions at once. Catching them early is cheaper than revising locked assets later; see how early culturalization prevents expensive game rework.
When real-world accuracy is the goal, do the opposite
Sometimes allegorical distance is not appropriate. If the game deliberately recreates a real city, historical period, culture, or community, accuracy and specificity may matter more than fictional distance. In the full conversation, Kate discusses work on Indiana Jones and the Great Circle, where real-world environments such as the Giza Plateau needed to feel historically and culturally credible—including the period and context in which the fictional story takes place.
The decision is not “real-world references are bad.” It is: decide whether you are replicating reality or transforming it—and research accordingly.
Cultural assumptions become more visible globally
A design choice may seem completely ordinary to its creators because it reflects conventions they have seen their entire lives. International players may notice it immediately—religious burial imagery, gender roles, family structures, political assumptions, gestures, hierarchy, forms of authority. Global release exposes local assumptions. That does not mean all of them need to change. It means you should know they are there—even if you keep them.
A practical fictional-culture workflow
When you are building an invented culture for a global audience, work through a short process:
- Identify real-world inspiration — architecture, language, clothing, religion, politics, social structures, names, symbols.
- Define the creative relationship — direct representation, historical inspiration, allegory, or loose aesthetic reference?
- Check allegorical distance — if the culture is meant to be fictional, is it still one real culture with a different name? Which systems changed? Does it have its own history and logic?
- Examine default assumptions — gestures, burial, marriage, family, authority, religion, gender, social status—were they intentionally designed?
- Create internal logic — geography, economy, religion, politics, history, social systems, everyday life.
- Introduce variation — how the culture changes across regions, classes, generations, communities, and characters.
- Review major assets in context — characters, environments, symbols, costumes, dialogue, audio, cinematics.
- Bring in cultural expertise where needed — especially when the fictional culture closely resembles a real group.
A worldbuilding checklist for cultural assumptions
Before you lock a fictional culture, compress the review into a few categories:
- Inspiration & allegory — Which real cultures influenced this setting? Is that intentional and recognizable? Does the fictional group correspond closely to a real one—and is there enough creative distance?
- Symbols & gestures — Do symbols come from real religions or political movements? What do they mean inside the fictional world? Why do characters use these gestures—are you assuming they are universal?
- Religion, death & ritual — Does the belief system have its own logic? Are familiar religious symbols reused automatically? How does the culture treat death, funerals, and memorials?
- Architecture & clothing — Why are buildings designed this way? What climate, technology, history, or religion shaped them? Which real traditions inspired costumes, and do they fit the society and character?
- Language & names — Which languages influenced them? Are those associations intentional?
- Society & everyday life — Does the culture contain internal differences? What do ordinary people eat, celebrate, fear, value, and do?
Better cultural thinking can create better fictional worlds
Fictional worlds do not become stronger by avoiding all real-world influence. They become stronger when creators understand that influence. A familiar grave marker can become a new funerary tradition. A borrowed religious symbol can become an original belief system. A generic fantasy kingdom can develop a distinct political history. A cultural assumption can become an intentional piece of worldbuilding.
That is the deeper value of culturalization in fantasy and science fiction. It helps you spot risks—and the parts of the world you have not designed yet. For the broader framework, see Game Culturalization: How to Design for Global Audiences Without Losing Your Creative Vision.
Continue exploring game culturalization
- Game Localization vs. Culturalization: What’s the Difference?
- How Early Culturalization Prevents Expensive Game Rework
- How to Represent Real-World Cultures in Games Without Falling Into Stereotypes
- Reactive vs. Proactive Culturalization: From Risk Prevention to Player Growth
- You Can’t Please Every Player: A Practical Approach to Cultural Risk in Games
Kate Edwards is a geographer and culturalization strategist who established digital content culturalization during her years as Microsoft’s geopolitical strategist (1992–2005). Through Geogrify she advises studios and tech companies on geopolitical and cultural risk and opportunity across games and other media. She is a former Executive Director of the IGDA and the Global Game Jam, founder of the IGDA Game Localization SIG, and has consulted on franchises including Halo, Age of Empires, Mass Effect, and Call of Duty. The video clip in this guide is from her Beyond Localization conversation with Nadzeya Drahun of Alconost.
Nadzeya Drahun is a Customer Success Manager at Alconost. She previously led localization projects as Senior Localization Manager, spanning games, apps, and software—from kickoff through delivery, quality, and client communication. She brings the vendor-side view of how fictional worldbuilding—names, invented terminology, and culturally coded symbols—surfaces in real localization workflows, and why voice, context, and multilingual QA belong in the same conversation as cultural design.
