Save vs Tropes

Novels often feel like campaigns now—
high highs and low lows.
Blame D&D for that, maybe?
Every moment either
life-or-death
or tavern banter.
Subtlety doesn’t earn XP.
Nothing happens if you don't act.

And yet—
I remember the hush
around the table
before someone rolls persuasion
to keep the inn from burning—
sometimes silence is
a mechanic too.

I used to hate the Chosen One—
how prophecies cling
to anyone tragic enough to catch them.
But I like watching
someone who thought they didn’t matter
realize they do.

I complained that death isn’t death—
that you can resurrect the bard
with a high enough roll
and enough gold.
But I wept—really wept—
when they brought her back—
and again when she looked around,
then asked if we’d won.

I swore I was done with parties
that fall in love too fast,
but I keep rereading the scene
where the rogue,
who trusts no one,
throws herself in front of a fireball.
I want to believe
in love like that.

Every time I try to quit—
the boss fights, the arcs
tied off too cleanly—
I remember the look
on someone’s face
when their name is spoken
like it’s the whole story.

So yes—
the pacing’s too tight.
The worldbuilding’s all system,
no soil.
Too many swords.
Too many dragons.
Too many gods
with tragic ex-lovers
and no sense of boundaries.

And yet—
I read the whole series.
I stayed up past three.
I felt the last blow.
I cheered for the girl
with the glaive and stubborn will
and the heart she pretended
wasn’t broken.

Forget it—
Enough complaining.
Roll initiative.
I’m in.

Author’s note: This was a silly bit I wrote for a prompt for NaPoWriMo 2025. It’s not aimed at anything in particular, or even a genuine literary critique of any kind, nor one of D&D. I’ve had plenty of fun as both player and DM!