Fantasyland's 'First-World Problem' Problem

“We have white people problems in America. That’s what we have. White people problems. You know what that is? That’s where your life is amazing, so you just make up shit to be upset about. People in other countries have real problems. Like “Oh shit, they’re cutting all our heads off, today!” Things like that. Here, we make things up to be upset about. Like “How come I have to choose a language on the ATM. It’s bullshit. I shouldn’t have to do that. I’m American!”
— Louis CK

The denizens of Fantasyland should have a lot of problems. There are Evil Overlords, rebellions, dragons, vampires, and newly-minted wizards with dubious control over their powers. If you live in the medieval-European-flavoured rural areas, you probably have limited access to education, clean water, or anything resembling medical care; if you live in Urban Fantasy City, you have to deal with a crime rate that makes Detroit look like Lake Wobegon.

In spite of all this, there seems to be a lot of focus on first-world problems in a way that's jarring for the context. I don't think a focus on relatively trivial conflicts is inherently a problem-- I love Wodehouse's Jeeves and Wooster stories, and Bertie's antics are the epitome of first-world problems. This works both because the works are comedy, where we expect a lighter weight of conflict, and because the stories are set in an insulated world free of serious issues. If you're writing a Fantasyland comedy of manners, go ahead and let two characters struggle over the ownership of a cow-creamer.

The first-world problem fixation gets disconcerting, however, when removed from a privileged bubble. First of all, characters who have always lived in a deprived environment will probably not think to whine in a serious way about something that's a part of their everyday existence, especially if they have no inkling that life could be different. Young characters seem particularly prone to out-of-context whining, perhaps because this is how modern Western society tends to characterise anyone under the age of eighteen. Second, when a character is complaining about trivial issues in their lives while the world burns around them, the character looks hopelessly oblivious at best and sociopathic at worst. While people in harsh circumstances do experience small annoyances, these should not be given the same narrative attention as the life-and-death struggles in your setting.