Just Not A Farmer, Owen

I have nothing against halflings, really, per se. I mean, I'd play one. Connie plays one. I bear her no ill will.

However, I keep not putting any halfling settlements on the map anywhere. There aren't any in the random tables I draw up, for the most part. Like if you were like "Where do halflings come from?" I'd be like "Fuck if I know."

I don't mind them. It's just the comfortableness and sandals, really. The Tolkien.

Anyway I figured out what I'm doing with them--in the macro sense (and I have to do something with them, Connie's got one, ergo, they exist on Planet D&DWPS):

Connie's rogue halfling is actually a rogue. An aberration.

The Preferred Class for Halfling is Paladin. Cavalier, really, if you have that, because they're not religious, or Knight, if your system has knights. Or just Upper Class Prick, really.

Here on Earth-Gigastructure, the typical Halfling isn't Bilbo, it's Napoleon. With a side of High Elf. They see the rest of us as "giant-class" monsters at best. They have colossal empires that stretch across parts of continents I haven't drawn yet. They sneer in their shining plate mail from atop their ponies and warboars. They keep griffins in cages and force them to tell jokes.

They're the sort of self-deluded-worm-ouroboros-monologuing-Nietzsche-quoters. As is usual with this sort of thing, it's all pretty funny until they start in with the genocide.

Unlike your bread-and-butter High Elf there will actually be an identifiable underclass keeping these aristocrats aristocratic, but they'll never be halflings. A halfling would never be caught dead pitchforking straw around like some Breughel yokel. They have half-orcs for that.