The Language of Worlds
Naming Places, Tech, and Concepts with Meaning
The Hidden Power of a Name
In fiction, there are times when a name shouts and then there are names that, quiet and resonant, shape the atmosphere of a world before a single line of exposition. Treysola was one of those names.
A planet with three suns, scorched by brightness, drenched in golden heat—its name needed to suggest that, but not announce it in all caps. Trisolarus was too obvious. I wanted something that hinted at its nature, yet left space for the reader to feel it. When “trey” (meaning three) and “sola” finally surfaced, it clicked. Not because it was clever, but because it sounded like the world.
That’s what I aim for when I name things: to build resonance. Not just meaning on the page—but tone, gravity, and soul.
Naming with Meaning: How I Approach Crafting Fictional Worlds
Meaning grounds my process, though it isn’t rigid. Sometimes I begin with a thesaurus or an etymology search, other times with a single word I want to disguise. But, the goal is to embed intention—linguistic, emotional, or philosophical—into the name. It’s a blend of the intuitive, etymological, and symbolic.
Take Anastasium Inc., for instance—a biotech company at the heart of my story. I wanted a name rooted in resurrection, and Anastasia offered both the meaning and emotional cadence I was searching for. With the -ium suffix, it transformed into something harder, more industrial.
The protagonist’s name, Ana, would later echo this choice—a quiet resonance between world and character, almost accidental, but inevitable.
Sometimes I name something before I fully understand its significance. Other times the name emerges organically and I define it in reverse, layering meaning after the fact. Either way, the name becomes a node—connecting character, world, and tone.
Examples from My Work
Treysola
A planet with three suns. Instead of a direct translation, I sought suggestion. Trey for three, sola to invoke sun, and together they sang with a brightness and rhythm the world demanded.
Orbalus
A militarized governing force. I sought a name that embodied the spherical nature of planet and sun worship. Using “Orb” conjured images of surveillance, enclosure, and oppressive systems of control. The suffix was intuitively shaped by sound—Orbalus felt heavy, imperial. Hard consonants give names authority. It stuck.
EDeN
An acronym (Extracorporeal Digital Emulation Neural-network). But more than that, a theological fulcrum. I began with the word eden and worked backwards, finding a technical justification for what was, at its heart, a moral symbol. Consciousness, immortality, human ambition—it’s all in the name.
Nün
The scorching mid-day sun of Treysola. A nod to noon, but with an alien shift. The phonetics draw an intuitive sense of time and intensity, while the umlaut feeds the atmosphere of a world where nothing is quite Earth-familiar. It suggests the heat and relentlessness of Treysola’s late sun without needing exposition.
Naming Tech, Systems, and Ideologies
When naming tech or systems, I like to lean into acronyms with narrative connotation. A good acronym, in my opinion, should feel like a word—it should hold emotional and philosophical weight, not just syllabic utility.
For example, IRIS (International Research and Innovation Summit) was born from my background in transplantation. But the name also nods to vision, perception, the aperture of understanding. The acronym serves its functional purpose, but its familiarity makes it human.
While designing world vernacular, I explore how the name feels. Is it sterile? Seductive? Ancient? Whatever its role in the world, the emotional tone has to match its narrative function.
There’s no single path to great naming, but here are a few techniques I like to use:
Start with meaning. Use thesauruses, etymology tools, or baby name databases. Don’t stop at what the thing is—think about what it feels like.
Play with sound. Say it aloud. Roll it in your mouth. Your tongue knows what the mind hasn’t settled on yet.
Invent cultural rules. In-world naming conventions (even subtle ones) help reinforce world logic. Government names may sound Latin-rooted; rebels might have softer, nature-inflected names.
Use the “familiar but transformed” rule. A name that almost feels known can invite intrigue.
Let ideology seep in. Names reflect power structures, belief systems, history. Think of your world as a culture—and name from within it.
When to Rename (And When to Let It Be)
I work the naming until it feels inevitable—because once a name anchors itself into the world’s gravity, pulling it loose risks tearing the narrative fabric. Minor shifts sometimes happen—Joseph to Josef (a connection to Hebraic heritage), Kristina softened to Christina—adjustments that fine-tune tone rather than alter meaning.
It’s natural to wonder whether readers will interpret a name “correctly.” But names aren’t puzzles to solve; they’re invitations to experience. If the resonance is there, readers will feel it—even if they never trace the etymology. Some meanings are meant to be intuited, not explained.
Name as Story
A name is more than a label. It’s a story in shorthand. A tone-setter. A spark. The first note of music in a reader’s mind before the symphony begins.
Whether you’re building star systems, biotech companies, or secret societies, let your names do more than fill a space—let them echo the world behind the world.
Let them carry meaning, even if no one sees it right away. That’s the point.
The name is the spell.
