I honestly don’t think there’s a single fantasy RPG that can’t be improved by injecting the greasy, chaotic energy of Frank Reynolds, AKA The Warthog, from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Just picture it: the man who once crawled naked out of a leather couch facing off against Ketheric Thorm. Maybe he’d start flinging rotten eggs at the lich lord, try to waterboard the Absolute in a slightly-too-clean public bathroom deep inside Moonrise Towers, or unleash an Eldritch Blast so unholy it would make Wyll’s patron blush. That mental image lives rent-free in my head, and apparently, I’m not alone.

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Actually, this whole bizarre mashup started with a brilliantly edited fan video a couple of years ago. Some absolute legend spliced Frank Reynolds into Baldur’s Gate 3 cutscenes, and the result was disturbingly seamless. Watching the trash man of Paddy’s Pub deliver deadpan reactions to mind flayer tadpoles and emotional campfire confessions felt like peeking into an alternate universe where the gang’s latest scheme somehow broke the Weave. The modding community went wild, and soon enough, even Larian Studios themselves couldn’t resist tipping their hat to the meme.

In a move that still makes me cackle, Larian used their own character creator to build something truly special: not Danny DeVito, but Danny Deleto, scourge of the Sword Coast. This wasn’t just a throwaway joke—they fully committed to a dwarf barbarian with classic DeVito proportions, complete with snippets of dialogue inspired by the show’s most unhinged monologues. A dwarf barbarian, by the way, is honestly the only class that makes sense for Frank. The guy has survived more absurd physical trauma than a full party of barbarians raging simultaneously. Bludgeoning resistance? He’s been smacked with chairs, hit by cars, and tossed off a moving boat. Frank’s entire life is a permanent Rage mechanic.

Now, because my brain refuses to let things rest, I immediately started mapping the rest of the gang onto the companion roster. The parallels are too delicious to ignore:

  • Astarion becomes Dennis—the theatrical, narcissistic vampire spawn whose every line drips with golden-god-level vanity. “I am the Pale Elf, a five-star man before the tadpole, and this cult won’t reduce me to a golden god of nothing!”

  • Shadowheart is clearly Dee. A brooding, sarcastic, secretly desperate worshipper of Shar who just wants to be taken seriously but keeps morphing into a comically oversized bird? It’s almost too perfect.

  • Minsc takes on Mac’s energy. Pure himbo strength, unwavering loyalty to a weirdly specific code (justice! ocular patdowns!), and a tendency to announce every single one of his moves before executing them with questionable effectiveness.

  • Halsin embodies Charlie. The lovable, feral, nature-obsessed weirdo who understands the language of rats and has a deeply unsettling connection to the sewers. The man who would unironically craft cheese-based weapons if given the chance.

  • And poor Gale? He’s Rickety Cricket without a doubt. A once-respected wizard of Waterdeep, now utterly ruined by a goddess ex and repeatedly broken down by the party’s awful decisions. I still feel a tiny sting of guilt every time I cheat on him with Mizora, but honestly, telling him “it’s the implication of danger” before feeding him another magical artifact is peak Frank Reynolds behavior.

What I love most about this fever dream is how it highlights the sheer flexibility of Baldur’s Gate 3’s role-playing framework. By 2026, the modding scene has exploded into something truly magnificent. There are now AI-assisted voice packs that can generate crude but recognizable Frank Reynolds barks for your custom character. You can install a “Trash Man” subclass mod that lets you weaponize improvised garbage items, or a custom background called “Scrap Entrepreneur” that gives you advantage on all checks involving shady deals and boiled denim. The dream of assembling the full Sunny crew and subjecting Faerûn to their brand of narcissistic chaos feels closer than ever. Imagine invading the House of Hope with a party whose battle plan consists entirely of screaming at each other until Raphael’s head explodes from second-hand embarrassment.

And here’s where I make my annual plea to Larian Studios, directly into the void: for your next game, please, please cast Glenn Howerton as a companion. Give me a snide, impeccably cruel high-elf sorcerer with Howerton’s iconic delivery—a character who can deliver a monologue about the Golden Ratio of somatic components and then break down in a screaming tantrum when a goblin doesn’t appreciate his perfectly executed spell. The world needs it. The Forgotten Realms have weathered countless apocalypses, but they’ve never faced the terror of The Gang. And frankly, I think they’re overdue.