The D&D I want to play I

So there's this thing in my head, and I call it "The D&D I want to play" and it probably has no use other than to have as something in my head that sounds cool so that it can inform how I play this game I love so much.

To be a bit clearer:  The D&D I actually wanna play is the D&D that's fun in the moment at the table.  Which often resembles what I am about to say not at all.  And probably never will.  Which is awesome.

Now that I'm back to typing full sentences . . . .  The D&D I want to play is set in a late medieval/early Renaissance world, in the same way that Game of Thrones is set in such a world.  That is: The Middle Ages were not a a nice time, and it helps to remember that.  Not only were they dirty, they were brutal and filled with stressors and traumas the effects of which are nowadays pathologized (such as PTSD). Violence was commonplace, as were things like rape.  Disasters often had little in the way of relief -- if your home burned down, you had truly nothing, people suffering in droughts had no hope of food shipped in from elsewhere, and plague ran rampant.  The feudal system in a myriad ways reinforced that any given individual had little in the way of self-determination (remember: they used to say, "I am your creature").  Communications and travel being as difficult as they were, many people lived decades without seeing more than maybe a few handfuls of people.  In addition, many of the amenities that we now consider vital to mental health, like personal space, leisure time, ready entertainment, "retail therapy", friends you could unburden yourself to, et cetera, were entirely absent.  And on top of all that, you had ergot in the rye, lead in the cookware, and mercury as a medicine!

Quite frankly, it seems a certainty that almost everyone back then was, by modern definitions, crazy.

At the same time, however, gallons of ink were spilled on vast descriptions of ethics and the virtuous man (hey, most of these folk were quite sexist).  Highly detailed treatises on nebulous concepts such as honor probed the truest heights of to what people could aspire, pushing them beyond the limits of their circumstances to do truly wondrous things.  In the midst of all this blinding imperfection, the muck and toil and scars of living in a hard world (and, in all likelihood, because of it all), people sought perfection.  If their experiences were grit, they would, like oysters, make a pearl around it.

Somewhere in between these two things, between a lifetime of mental scars and the shining impossibility of honor, born from their interaction, are these things which some have called good and evil, law and chaos.

Into those between places stride adventurers, whom I enjoy likening to the Radical Faeries.  I think I just might end up making my point here by means of a vast variety of quotations, which I will certainly remember to put in this color, for your convenience.  Beings of heightened passions and emotions ("Hither came Conan the Cimmerian, black-haired, sullen-eyed, sword in hand, a thief, a reaver, a slayer, with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandalled feet." Robert E. Howars, The Phoenix on the Sword, 1932), they ar people who have found no home in the structures and societies given them.  Whether through an overabundance of thinking, identity differences such as sexual or gender differences, too much dreaming, faith in a strange religion either old or new or just different, a tragic orphaing, or just plain ol' not fitting the fuck in -- and for a thousand thousand other reasons as well -- adventurers have left or been pushed out of the homes that nurtured and grew them, whether massive stone castle or wattle-and-daub peasant hut.  Some never had such a starting place.

For the most part, adventurers cling to very small groups of each other, there being only two to five people at any one time who can stand to spend that much time with each other, but they do gather on a semi-regular basis, even if only accidentally.  When they greet each other at these gatherings, they do so with unguarded and honest warmth, knowing as they do that this community is the only one many of them have.  Accordingly despite adventurers' gruff and oft off-putting demeanor, they tend towards high levels of emotional intelligence, processing through their issues either individually or communally for interminable hours until everything is settled.  This understanding also means that they will often be more accepting of out-of-control people in their midst, whether they lose their rationality to drugs, drink, their own mental scars, strange religious practices, madness, or strong emotion.  Cutting someone off from the community is the last thing on anyone's mind.

Of course, to normal folk, adventurers seem strange and uncontrolled.  "Adventurers are best understood as a form of natural disaster, like a tornado or earthquake. Their lives are whirling clouds of intrigue and violence, and normal people who value life stay as far away from these passive-aggressive psychotics as they can.
The best of them are paranoid, touchy, greedy, and bloodthirsty; they are likely to respond to nearly any challenge or obstacle with immediate and overwhelming force. Even "good" ones are killers, grave robbers, and notorious lechers. The worst of them are mass murderers, thieves, and extortionists. No matter how grim the situation you find yourself in, they will take action only for money, and will always want more than you and your village are prepared to pay.
Despite their greed, they have wealth beyond imagination- the equivalent of the wages of several lifetimes of skilled labor- all invested in armor, weapons, and other various and sundry nastiness. Sane people, upon becoming this wealthy, would buy a large estate and mansion and retire. These lunatics buy bigger weapons and go after more money- your money. They earn this money in ways which boggle the mind and churn the stomach.
They think nothing of walking into lethal situations normal and sane people shun. They impassively face armies of well-armed and-equipped humanoids, the risen dead, and demons from the pits. The most hideous and unnerving monstrosities are slain without even a hiccup, without a blink, twitch, or grunt to betray any kind of emotion. Adventurers are beyond brave, beyond fearless, beyond impassive. They are simply incapable of normal, human fear. Death has no meaning for them. It is simply another annoying obstacle.
If their own life means little, the lives of those around them mean even less. They will kill without compunction, or even a moment's thought. They treat everyone as if they were a potential enemy and treat every situation as if violence could break out at any moment.
Buy their services, if you must, but don't expect gratitude or loyalty. They will try to take whatever isn't nailed down, and try to nail anyone who catches their fancy. Don't expect grace, courtliness, manners, or for that matter even barest civility. Adventurers act like- and apparently believe- that they are the most important people in the world.
Your laws and mores matter nothing to them. Most don't even remember such concepts exist, and upon being reminded of them react with extreme annoyance. This usually equates to extreme violence.
If they are welcome, it is only because things have gone very badly and they are moderately less dangerous than whatever supernatural evil is about. Once they have done whatever it is you need, reward them with gold (of course, try getting them to act without it) and invite them to leave, immediately if not sooner. Asking them to stay is a recipe for disaster." (Jasyn Jones, RPG.net)  And on top of all of that, they participate in strange, no doubt unseemly and stomach-churning rites to serve some arcane social or spiritual purpose!  Most avoid them when possible, a few (usually a mite bit different themselves) touch on their lives but refuse to get too intimate or to learn too deep of details about their lives, and some are fascinated by adventurers' allure, seeking stories, always stories and rarely actual contact, of their deeds and wonderfilled lives.