It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Taryon Darrington, a human artificer . You are the member of the famous group of adventurers. Previously, They prepare a couple of longer-term spells before bed: Pike uses Vex's last ornate chalice to cast Heroes' Feast. Scanlan, for the very first time, casts Wish and asks for a Scanlan-simulacrum, which begins to form out of falling snow.
DM: Over the next 12 hours, you sit there focusing on trying to press your will into this congealing snow golem of Scanlan, and watch as it slowly takes form and breathes air, and-- with no equipment, of course-- but has your knowledge, your spells. Eventually, the completion of the spell brings to life a secondary Scanlan, under your beck and call.
Player: Oh my god. Hello, Scanlan, is it you?
DM: "It's me."
Player: (gasps) Oh! You're shorter than I thought you'd be.
DM: "Speak for yourself."
Player: All right, let's just see if you're really Scanlan.
DM: He's already naked.
Player: Oh, okay. Let's see. I whip out my little measuring tape. One inch, by one inch, by one inch. Mm-hmm. That part's the same.
DM: "Mm-hmm. How do we know I'm not the real Scanlan?"
