The bigger the army, the harder it falls.
Everyone in the Taskmaster's Realm knows that narrative convention is as real as the laws of physics (and often much realer). The ferryman is crotchety and greedy and must be tricked. The mystic ghost has essential wisdom to impart. Barbarians are stupid, hairy drunkards led by a berserker. Convention is just the way the world operates.
And it's oh, so predictable.
So when Fodder and his friends are forced their separate ways, held captive against impossible odds, and threatened by a fate worse than death, they begin to wonder:
If we know exactly how the world works, can't we make it work for us?
It's time to play.