Base of Operations: Toxic Jungle, IN
Likes: Varmints, booze, babes, blood, monsters, all of the food, vidyagames.
Dislikes: Dr. Pepper, children, hipsters, litterbugs, debt collectors, sportsball, cantaloupe.
Occupation: Book and book accessory peddler, living fossil, ex-pedestrian, man-child, couch potato, Bette Midler impersonator.
Fantasy takes itself too seriously when it gets generic - and that makes genericy BORING. A party composed of a dwarf warrior, an elf mage, and a human thief would be instantly improved if they were fighting cavemen with access to space age laser technology that they got when their ancestors crashed their rocket ship into the mountains as opposed to goblins. The genre needs to pull the stick out of it’s ass in order to be truly great again.
Give me a tribe of quasi-humanoid salamanders battling a tribe of animate scarecrows.
Give me a lost civilization of floating crystal masks who keep a vast library written on reptile skin.
Give me Molemen.
I don’t have the quasi-humanoid salamanders, masks, or molemen, but I do have civilized gnolls living in fortress-like city states with their industry powered by geothermal energy, dwarf-sized catfolk based on stocky breeds like Maine Coons, trolls that are shy forest-dwelling hominids, and tall grey-like agendered things that reproduce via parthenogenesis.
also elves who were ancient astronaut types whose star-spanning civilization collapsed in an orgy of madness and violence because they dun fucked up and are now gibbering, deformed mutants. And lizardfolk who lack sexual dimorphism apart from a very slight difference in height.