Oh shit, this was awesome. Nando knew what he was talking about. At least Elliot assumed that someone who had no knowledge of Dungeons & Dragons wouldn’t intuitively know 1) about clerics and B) that you didn’t want to be a cleric. Clerics were the worst.
If Elliot was assigning himself a D&D class… actually that was a tough one. Obviously the magic-using classes were appealing. He wasn’t a warlock because he hadn’t made a deal with a god to get magical powers, but real-life wizards were somewhere between sorcerers (born with magical powers) and D&D wizards (had to study to unlock their magical powers). Sorcerers didn’t have that many spell slots, which was lame, but wizards’ main stat was intelligence, and even Elliot would admit that his main stat was probably dexterity. So that probably made him a rogue—fighters needed more strength and Elliot did not have anywhere near enough experience with The Great Outdoors to be a ranger. He supposed he could be a monk but like… no.
Rogue it was. In a magic space western, “rogue” basically meant Poe Dameron. Or Han Solo if he wanted to be old school about it. Yeah Elliot was definitely going to have to make a DMPC for this campaign.
Bisexually, Elliot finger-gunned back at Nando and made “pew pew” sounds. “Gunslinger sounds great. I’m Elliot. I haven’t planned much yet ‘cause I wanted to see where people would take it so just, you know, we can workshop something cool.” Elliot fished a pencil (not as #aesthetic as quills but better for writing down temporary stats because he hadn’t figured out the ink-rewriting charm yet) out of his supplies, which also included some green army guys he thought they could transfigure into miniatures and a pile of multicolored dice of varying side counts that looked like a dragon’s hoard of Forbidden Gummies. He offered Nando the pencil and a blank character sheet. “Maybe we start with stats? I’m thinking your constitution is not that high because that fruit tart just almost killed you.”