Hmm. Could I pick peoples' brains about elves for a bit?
I've got a setting dominated by elves that I'm designing, and I'm trying to avoid the main pitfalls of elfdom that makes them flat, but I want to keep a certain je ne sais elf feeling about them.
So, what are some traits which feel distinctly elf-y to you guys?
Mm. I'm familiar with that take on elves, and I think it's a bit extreme and flattening.
It's a good attempt at reconciling the weird dichotomies of 3.5 elves, but I'm free to throw out the stuff that doesn't make sense, rather than trying to come up with a way to cram all the 3.5 authors' different notions into one logical container.
For starters, in my setting elves are the only sapient humanoids (or were, until a very recent discovery on a remote island).
Second, I don't want elves to be ridiculously long-lived, because it makes them so alien as to be nigh un-relatable--or at least, it puts the focus on a part of the role-play that I don't want to hog the limelight.
Although, hmm, here is a way you can game that: what if you keep the undying-ness of elves, and part of their Egyptomania gig is they've run into the ruins of a culture that has this HUGE concept of death and funerary practices and such.
I'm unfamiliar with both Dragon Age and the Shadow of Yesterday.
I've got the Ruby Tower as a major player in the city's politics. Its goddess is dedicated to making sure people die when they're supposed to--she is opposed to both shortening and lengthening life unnaturally.
I'd recently decided that the magic of her wizard-priests is based on ancestral wisdom, drawn from old mages who chose, at their death, to forsake the afterlife in order to share their wisdom with future generations of Ruby Mages.
The Ruby Tower has rooms lined with preserved corpses of the talented dead, who will --when the proper rites are performed-- converse with the worthy and pass on their knowledge.
That is a visual and a concept I'd like to not sacrifice entirely.
@Zachiel It's a major part of the setting: the elf city is built on the ruins of a recently-but-mysteriously destroyed city they call Serpentis. The city is obsessed with studying Serpentis, owning its artifacts, building in its style, holding seances to converse with its ghosts.
The primary culture of this city is one that values self-advancement at the expense of others. You're respected for your ability to turn a profit, to attract followers, and to take advantage of every opportunity to advance yourself.
Elves don't really care about death because they just, erm, "respawn" in a sense. Not as themselves anymore. But most don't regard the change of identity as a big deal.
@BESW It's not so much tree-hugging as, like, favored by nature. Able to just hang around in the world without struggle, somehow. The way Legolas just walks on the snow.
@BESW I feel like they say they are the Firstborn, made of starlight when the world was new and all that. And maybe they feel like they have spent too long in the flesh, and have become decadent, but as a society it's largely a "Oh, we're so decadent and lost as a culture! Now pass the cognac and have the band play another ironic song about it."
The days of the Lightning Kings make for great stories and give them a sense of cultural pride, but it'd be damned awkward to have to actually follow those old-fashioned morals and beliefs.
I guess it makes sense that there are several comparisons to Victorians because it's a society that feels like it's at its apex. Something changed, a generation or two ago, and now people feel like they can reinvent themselves.
My wife says the key to understanding Victorians is that they're idealistic, not nostalgic.
Their ideals include traditionalism by way of romantic nationalism.
But they're basically profoundly naive because they feel like they are entitled to be. Because the industrial revolution (and some of the stuff before it) is such a profound break with history.
A merchant is probably someone with the real power to jerk someone around.
@BESW When I look at him, I see a fellow who doesn't exactly jerk people around - but he does what he wants, and speaks his mind, and he's brash, but content and honest and has no time for nonsense.
In my original version, Ricky ran the neutral-territory underground bar where the criminals of the city met and socialised.
He was probably the only one who knew about Zagreus's plot but wasn't in on it. He couldn't do much to stop Zagreus on his own, but he could be a very helpful source of information and resources if the party figured it out.
A shifty sneak who hides a surprisingly tough core behind a decidedly effeminate and cowardly exterior.
I'll make him a bit more honourable in the middle, but the face he presents to his clientele is just that: a coward willing to sell his mother to save himself.