Earlier this year, I responded to a D&D group in Salt Lake that was looking for a new player. I actually responded to about three groups at the same time, who were all looking for new players. I didn’t get my hopes up — okay, I lied. I really got my hopes up for joining a game. Not even joking. I contacted one of the guys in the group, we exchanged an email or three, I got in touch with the DM, and we started to arrange for me to come sit in on a game. I actually had what I needed to build a character (book and all) and so when I talked to the DM, we worked out some quick details.

I rolled for my stats, as is appropriate in such circumstances, and I asked the DM what kind of characters were already in the party. He gave me a sketchy outline of the rest of the party, which at that time consisted of a dragonborn ranger, a half-elf ranger, and what he referred to as a “warmage.” I wasn’t aware of a warmage class for Fourth Edition, so I asked about that one, knowing pretty well that I was probably going to wind up playing a healer class, since he’d mentioned at least two strikers (ranger) and that “warmage” was either a controller or a striker. We would need a healer.

I said as much in the conversation, and he assured me that I didn’t have to play a cleric, I should play whatever I want. I persisted, saying that with the party’s current make-up, they could really use a healer class, and I was okay with playing a cleric. He insisted that I should play whatever I want, and not let the rest of the party decide for me. I eventually gave way to the overwhelming opposition to my rational argument, and I made … a wizard/cleric. He’d almost convinced me that healing wasn’t needed, but the back of my mind said otherwise. Sweet vindication would be mine.