ok but in DnD as far as I can tell almost everyone outlives humans by a ridiculous amount – elves, dwarves, gnomes, and okay I confess my exposure to DnD is just TAZ so I’ve run out of races, but still. doesn’t this mean that to most races, humans seem like terrifyingly precocious children? especially if you haven’t met that many – it’s one thing to know that humans are considered adults by their twenties, it’s another thing to meet one who owns a business and has kids of their own, and then find out they’re less than half the age of your dumb baby brother who still eats rocks.
Angus, a ten-year-old child: “I am employed by the police to solve murders, because of the excellent reputation I have established for myself over many cases. I am traveling alone, unsupervised, searching for a killer on my own, because I am competent enough to do so.”
Taako, a three-hundred-year-old college-age kid: “sounds legit.”
Magnus: “Ok all jokes aside you guys realize this kid is way too young to be alone like this right? I mean yes, he’s more competent than the three of us put together, but he’s also a child, he should have someone looking out for him.”
Merle: “What are you talking about, Maggie? He’s barely a decade younger than you, what’s the issue?”
Taako: “No Merle he’s right, I mean we’re babysitting Magnus but who’s babysitting McDjango over here?”
Magnus: “I am a thirty-three-year-old man!”
Merle: “We know honey, we know.”
Also, dwarves only live about half as long as elves, so Magnus may be a grown adult, but Merle and Taako are probably within a few decades of each other in age and Taako’s probably mortified about it.
Merle, early on: “Hey, it’s my birthday tomorrow!”
Taako, painting his nails: “What are you, seven fifty? Eight hundred?”
Merle, mortally offended: “I’m only two hundred and thirty-five, what the hell?”
Taako, horrified: “I’M TWO HUNDRED AND FOUR, WHAT THE HELL”
Magnus: “And I’m thirty-three, were we going to get dinner or what, Granddads?”
Taako: “BE SILENT, DEMON CHILD”
On the other hand, teenage Orcs are like 10-13 years old, so
Magnus: “No but really he’s only ten where are his parents?”
Killian, who is fifteen years old: “Not really following you on that one, it seems pretty legit to me”
Interesting factoid, Dragonborn and Orcs have almost the same age of maturity
I one time did a campaign in DND where the entire party woke up in a trash heap, memories wiped, when a man in shining white armor approached them. He helped them up, healed them, and helped them escape what was essentially the dump and find their way into the sunlight. He told them of the tale of a wicked king of immense power who bargained for his abilities from a demon, hoping to save his kingdom, and succumbed to the evil after his wife died. The wife had a pearl necklace, and it was the man’s duty to find those pearls, because they held a magic in them that could defeat the king.
This particular NPC was startlingly overpowered at first, right a long the levels of 6 while everyone else was just starting out, and he helped them along in the most dire situations, healing, defeating, and even resurrecting for them. There would be periods where he would be gone, and the party would have to face a crypt full of mummies together, or dive into the deepest parts of the ocean and retrieve these milky white pearls that would give them the ability to help their friend and defeat the wicked king. Slowly, their memories came back to them, and that was a stark comfort for them, but the entire time, there seemed to be a piece missing.
After they retrieved 5 pearls (they broke the 6th one), they journied with the man to the wicked king’s castle, and fought their way through endless ranks of guards, undead, demons, and even a lich, until they made their way to the sacred bed chamber of the king, that they all remembered the story of from before they had awoken in that garbage pile. They opened the doors, only to find it empty, save the usual furniture, marred by scratches and the ancient scrawl of demons. The man in the white armor sighed and walked into the bedroom.
And his armor changed from white to pitch black, and the whole party remembered suddenly. That was the face of the wicked king, the face that smiled at them whenever he healed them, the face that looked stern as they suggested stupids things to find the pearls. Apparently, in lapses of the demon’s control, the king had found a way to set him self up for defeat, by bringing his wive’s pearls along with brave, powerful warriors. Every absence he felt was where he had to return to the demon’s control and become the wicked king again, but he was determined to fight himself, to rid his own evil from the world, to end this curse of immortality and see his loved one again.
I made the party fight the final boss, and they saw the eyes of a friend.
They all cried, and I am no longer allowed to DM for them.
““This looks like a whole lot of ‘not my problem’.””
— -said the rouge in our party after encountering some Clay Golems, Yellow Mold that was oozing from the walls, and a swarm of Gargoyles outside the tower. He then proceeded to push the elevator button for the next floor and leave them all behind.
i'll apple your turnover 