Scene: a group of adventurers arrive at the Pearly Gates.
Angel: Hello, and welcome to--ah, it's you guys. Again. Somehow.
Fighter: Hi, sorry for the trouble. We'll just wait here until our cleric--
Cleric: Um, I'm here too.
Fighter: #%@#&!!!
Angel: (opens book) Okay, let's see here. Sir Hunksley the Fighter. It says here that you...were left to fight the entire horde of orcs alone, when everyone else in the party pulled back?
Hunksley: Yep. (glares at the rest of the party) I'm starting to rethink the concept of "companions."
Angel: And hello Radiana, cleric of Pelor. You healed Sir Hunksley from a safe distance, only to be targeted by--goodness, thirty-seven arrows in the following round?
Radiana: (pulling arrows out of her forehead) Indeed. Only twenty-two of them managed to hit, though.
Angel: And then there's Abracadaver the Necromancer. You used a cantrip, and then you were targeted by the other thirty-seven arrows, yes?
Abracadaver: That's the last time I cast Toll the Dead.
Radiana: (under her breath) I doubt it.
Angel: And then... (sighs heavily) ...Hardy Hipthruster, Esquire. Bard of the Singing Swallow Tavern.
Hardy: I didn't know the barrels contained explosives! She didn't say she was a nun! The orc looked at me funny! The shopkeeper is lying, I bought those rubies fair and square! How was I supposed to know that elves can detect syphilis? They told me that tomb was unguarded! Nobody said I couldn't--