Even if people had strong evidence that hell existed, it would still be far, while the desirable outcomes of evil would be near. Real people already regularly make decisions that are flat out insane from a utility calculation perspective, so it doesn’t seem unreasonable for fictional characters to do the same.
Even if people had strong evidence that hell existed, it would still be far, while the desirable outcomes of evil would be near.
Hence the “massively small discount fraction.” Although, actually, there’s a better way to make that convincing- as ghosts, people could have less sentience and thus less capacity to gain utility or disutility. A ghost in a pit of flame might feel as bad as a human suffering from a headache; a ghost in heaven might feel as good as a human in afterglow. So to extraplanar travelers it looks like the ghosts are in a terrible situation, but they’re sort of used to it and don’t even notice that they’re moaning, anymore.
One reason I find that so unconvincing it is essentially requires that evil people have no long-term planning ability. The plan put forward by Elan’s dad assumes neutrality after his death, such that being a legend is a long-term goal actually worth pursuing compared to entry into heaven. He’s going into it knowing full well that he’s the villain and he will die with his boots on- so to not go into it knowing full well that he’s headed to the Abyss seems like a glaring plot hole.
I’m not well versed in the setting elements of D&D, and Order of the Stick is a homebrewed setting anyway, but I don’t think that evil characters are subject to progressively greater torment depending on the magnitude of their crimes in life.
As best I recall, characters’ experience in the D&D afterlife depends primarily on their moral alignment, which determines the plane of existence to which they get sent after they die. There are a few examples of specific torments for specific sins, but that’s more the exception than the rule—and in at least some cases it’s possible for characters to become part of their destined afterlife’s hierarchy if they fulfill the right conditions.
So Elan’s dad is acting pretty sanely by not taking this into account, at least if we assume as most D&D settings do that alignment isn’t very mutable. This sort of arrangement carries some rather odd implications, but hey, it’s D&D.
Even if people had strong evidence that hell existed, it would still be far, while the desirable outcomes of evil would be near. Real people already regularly make decisions that are flat out insane from a utility calculation perspective, so it doesn’t seem unreasonable for fictional characters to do the same.
Hence the “massively small discount fraction.” Although, actually, there’s a better way to make that convincing- as ghosts, people could have less sentience and thus less capacity to gain utility or disutility. A ghost in a pit of flame might feel as bad as a human suffering from a headache; a ghost in heaven might feel as good as a human in afterglow. So to extraplanar travelers it looks like the ghosts are in a terrible situation, but they’re sort of used to it and don’t even notice that they’re moaning, anymore.
One reason I find that so unconvincing it is essentially requires that evil people have no long-term planning ability. The plan put forward by Elan’s dad assumes neutrality after his death, such that being a legend is a long-term goal actually worth pursuing compared to entry into heaven. He’s going into it knowing full well that he’s the villain and he will die with his boots on- so to not go into it knowing full well that he’s headed to the Abyss seems like a glaring plot hole.
I’m not well versed in the setting elements of D&D, and Order of the Stick is a homebrewed setting anyway, but I don’t think that evil characters are subject to progressively greater torment depending on the magnitude of their crimes in life.
As best I recall, characters’ experience in the D&D afterlife depends primarily on their moral alignment, which determines the plane of existence to which they get sent after they die. There are a few examples of specific torments for specific sins, but that’s more the exception than the rule—and in at least some cases it’s possible for characters to become part of their destined afterlife’s hierarchy if they fulfill the right conditions.
So Elan’s dad is acting pretty sanely by not taking this into account, at least if we assume as most D&D settings do that alignment isn’t very mutable. This sort of arrangement carries some rather odd implications, but hey, it’s D&D.