I like to think Elves go on an adventure at around age 70-90, get really super cool, take 100 years off, and then completely forget all their amazing skills because they’ve been learning the language of bees or doing sequoia trimming as a hobby for the last century.
Would be a cute fluffy class feature to just assign the very old elf an exceptionally difficult but totally useless skill at near-master level, to help explain why the Legendary Warrior of Old is now swinging for the minor leagues.
I do like the idea that elves just change their entire lifestyle every hundred years or so. They spend 80 years as a warrior, then decided to take up magic and became a wizard for the next 80 years.
I also like the idea of a human village that accidentally built 4 statues of the same elf who kept saving them with different skills.
Of the three elves we’ve met so far (there might be one or two other minor ones in flashbacks) only Kraft can be said to have changed class (warrior to monk), and that was centuries before the time of the series at the earliest, and due to a crisis of faith (and possibly a midlife crisis, or the elven equivalent of one).
The other two have spent at least a thousand years focusing on very specific skillsets (and in Serie’s case complaining about how humans don’t live long enough to gain proper expertise at their crafts)…
The premise of the series is Frieren learning to appreciate her friends despite their short lives (well, the original premise was a cute immortal terrifying demon killing machine of an elf, according to the author, but it sort of evolved from that)… but when it comes to the nature of elves and how they learn, it’s pretty much the absolute opposite of this.
Both Frieren and Serie would be extremely offended at the mere suggestion that they might possibly ever forget anything, and Kraft would probably be disappointed but understanding.
There’s a series of books called The Legend of Drizzt last time I checked (it’s changed over the years, and the first book wasn’t even supposed to be about him lmao) and in one of the books, our main character believes he has lost all his friends (not a spoiler, we already know who is okay and who isn’t when he thinks this) and so he goes off alone into the mountains to kill orcs and goblins and shit until he maybe dies. A couple of elves way older than him meet him at one point, and since this is really the first time he’s spent with elves long term since he left his underground homeland decades before, he doesn’t really know “how to be an elf”.
This is basically their philosophy.
Elves can live over a thousand years (one dark elf we know of is blessed by their evil deity and is over 5,000), but dwarves only about 2-400 years (I think?) and half lings about 100-150ish, humans standard 80.
Since you will lose 10 sets of “lifelong friends” at least, if they’re human, many elves choose to stick with other elves.
But those that mingle, tend to segment their lives into smaller chunks.
Don’t try to live your life all thousand years in one go, you will lose so much by doing so.
But if you think of your life as more “this is me now, I am very different from the person who wore this outfit 5 years ago, and this is who I will be for the next 100 years” then it becomes more manageable.
You never forget the friends and family you made in an old life, but you cannot carry your grief over losing them for the rest of your life.
Those that do end up sticking to their own kind, because it’s less painful. (and also superiority complexes)
Elves can live over a thousand years (one dark elf we know of is blessed by their evil deity and is over 5,000), but dwarves only about 2-400 years (I think?) and half lings about 100-150ish, humans standard 80.
After reading The Age of Em (2016) by Robin Hanson, I wish there were stories about races that went the other way, lifespan-wise: extremely small people who lived only 1 year, even smaller people who lived only 1 month, some very extremely small but very powerful ones that lived only a day, etc. The idea is that artificial people (emulated people, or Ems) could have subjectively similar characteristics and experiences to the larger physical entities (e.g. humans, but perhaps even dwarves, elves, and etc., since theyʼre just emulated minds), but their artificial emulated substrate allows their minds to develop and age orders of magnitude faster; they also could solve certain problems orders of magnitude faster but practical limitations on delays between thought and physical interactions (your mind would waste away if you had to wait a whole subjective hour between each physical step during a walk with a standard 1.5 meter body) require their bodies to be very small.
To ems that are smaller and faster, sunlight seems dimmer and shows more noticeable diffraction patterns. Magnets, waveguides, and electrostatic motors are less useful. Surface tension makes it harder to escape from water. Friction is more often an obstacle, lubrication is harder to achieve, and random thermal disruptions to the speed of objects become more noticeable. It becomes easier to dissipate excess body heat, but harder to insulate against nearby heat or cold (Haldane 1926; Drexler 1992).
A crude calculation using a simple conservative nano-computer design suggests that a matching faster-em brain might plausibly fit inside an android body 256 times smaller and faster than an ordinary human body (Hanson 1995).
Compared with ordinary humans, to a fast em with a small body the Earth seems much larger, and takes much longer to travel around. To a kilo-em, for example, the Earth’s surface area seems a million times larger, a subway ride that takes 15 minutes in real time takes 10 subjective days, an 8-hour plane ride takes a subjective year, and a 1-month flight to Mars takes a subjective century. Sending a radio signal to the planet Saturn and back takes a subjective 4 months. Even super-sonic missiles seem slow. However, over modest distances lasers and directed energy weapons continue to seem very fast to a kilo-em.
Call them speedlings, or some variant of sprite, but I think its an interesting world-building concept.
I had a character who’s backstory wasn’t too far off from that. The career changes weren’t entirely voluntary, though, and usually were because he had suddenly lost all his money and needed to go adventuring again to rebuild his wealth. By the time the campaign was set, he was close to a millennium old, borderline senile, and making some very outrageous claims about things he had supposedly done in the past, like getting into a bar fight with Selune during the Time of Troubles or having once dated Lolth.
I feel like that campaign is just begging for Lolth to show up and just be like “I see you’ve done… well for yourself. Are you going to introduce me to your new friends or…?”
This also somewhat appears in the Orconomics book series (very enjoyable fantasy satire with some heart to it), where the elves in that universe are virtually immortal and don’t die by aging. Instead they just slowly forget their previous lives if they live that long.
One of the main characters is an Elf who used to be an adventurer of great renown, but is a bit washed up and is constantly comparing themselves with the legends of what they used to be. Also applies that if you were an Elven prince or princess, eventually you age out and get moved lower socially to any newer born royalty.
I think there’s also a fun opportunity for the world to just evolve a lot in that time. Like, you were a wizard 100 years ago, but then spells were super different and way less powerful, so now you get to relearn the newer better spells and casting techniques. I imagine it’d be like learning to programming 50 years ago and then starting again now
Like, you were a wizard 100 years ago, but then spells were super different and way less powerful, so now you get to relearn the newer better spells and casting techniques.
That’s an interesting (and very Frieren-esque) bit of world building. But it does run contrary to the generic D&D settings/multi-verse, where the same set of spells have existed for centuries and across a multitude of worlds.
“When I was your age, you needed to know 9th level spells to cast fireball” is a cute crotchety one-liner. But it’s not going to make any sense when you find a 2,000 year old spellbook with Fireball at the appropriate 3rd level slot. The DM would have to do a whole mess of retconning of an existing setting / pre-written material to make it work.
I imagine it’d be like learning to programming 50 years ago and then starting again now
As someone who did learn programming roughly 40 years ago, there are definitely differences. But an if-statement is still and if-statement and a function is still a function. The libraries and syntax can change, but the basic commands are still fundamentally the same.
I would note that modern programming-as-analog-to-magic would be more akin to everyone having a magic wand in their back pocket to do a set assortment of 3rd level spells per day which they don’t even really need to think about other than the command word. Meanwhile, you’ve got this ancient elf flipping through a spellbook and spending an hour every morning re-memorizing a boutique list of spells nobody has thought to make a wand for in half a century.
Also a very interesting spin on a D&D-esque setting. But hugely divergent from printed materials.
Very good points, Thank you!
I guess the most canon-compliant way to make this idea work is that they were a cleric of a deity that died. That does happen in DnD settings sometimes and I would expect that would remove their access to divine magic. Of course I would expect that rules would let you substitute a different deity with similar domains, and there are definitely skills and feats you wouldn’t lose with your magic, but it would be an interesting backstory.
But D&D also massively changes the magic system periodically, and they actually add it to the lore as cataclysms and whatnot.
