Posted in General

After the resurrection, Jesus handed Lazarus the invoice. “Now, that is a 7th-level spell that cost 5,000gp worth of diamonds…”

The rule of thumb is that when an article or editorial asks a question in the headline, the answer is always no. In keeping with this, I almost asked, “Should D&D priests not charge for healing?” but that seemed a bit awkward.

But I s’pose I should back up a wee bit. The other day, I was surfing /tg/ at work, and I saw the following excerpt posted:

It stirred up some discussion, but there was a niggling dissatisfaction in my mind. The implied criticism of priests charging for their spells, the presumption they should simply toss cure light wounds for whomever happens by. Harrumph! Poppycock! Nonsense!

“Should good-aligned D&D priests charge for healing?” Absolutely, without a doubt. The author’s premises are all flawed, so I’m going to deal with them one at a time.

1. Spells Are Renewable, Not Infinite

When writing how spells are renewable, the author doesn’t bother to think through the basics of supply and demand. Yes, spells are a renewable resource. They are also a scarce resource. Clerics don’t have infinite spell slots. Consider the following passage:

In addition, not every town or village has a spellcaster of sufficient level to cast any spell. In general, you must travel to a small town (or larger settlement) to be reasonably assured of finding a spellcaster capable of casting 1st-level spells, a large town for 2nd-level spells, a small city for 3rd- or 4th-level spells, a large city for 5th- or 6th-level spells, and a metropolis for 7th- or 8th-level spells. Even a metropolis isn’t guaranteed to have a local spellcaster able to cast 9th-level spells.

A cleric who can cast 8th-level spells is a mighty force. A metropolis is thus likely (not guaranteed) to have at least one cleric around 15th-level. How many spells does a cleric get at that level? A total of 53, including domain spells. Seems like a lot, doesn’t it? But when you’re in a metropolis of thousands, a few dozen spells doesn’t stretch that far. Even assuming there are a plethora of lower-level clerics wandering about the temples, the total spells for the total number of people potentially needing spells far outweighs them. Consider that D&D is a dangerous world filled with people who regularly need drained levels restored and dead allies resurrected. How can you plan on helping everyone in need without a sizable waiting list?

You can’t. And thus the basics of charging for spells: supply and demand. The 10gp price for a cure light wounds from a level 1 cleric serves as a method of triaging care. If Uncle Rufus falls off the wagon and gets a sprained elbow that’s going to get better on its own, it’s a waste of the cleric’s limited resources to provide healing. Sleep it off and you’ll be fine in a few days. But if Uncle Rufus falls off the wagon and breaks his arm, that’s a different story. Now he definitely needs that cure spell, so what to do? Certainly some priests will simply heal Uncle Rufus free of charge as a form of charity. Some may not. Why? Because…

2. Not All Good Clerics Are The Same Good

Although much maligned, D&D 3e’s alignment system provides substantial depth. Examine the cleric’s alignment requirements:

Alignment

A cleric’s alignment must be within one step of his deity’s (that is, it may be one step away on either the lawful-chaotic axis or the good-evil axis, but not both). A cleric may not be neutral unless his deity’s alignment is also neutral.

It is a fallacy (and a common one) to understand all good D&D deities as Christ stand-ins. What about, say, Boccob? A Neutral deity devoted to magic. A Neutral Good cleric of Boccob would certainly be justified in charging for his spells to further his magical experimentation. Those old tomes don’t pay for themselves! What about Ehlonna, deity of the woodlands? Her priests’ primary obligation is to preserving plants and animals, not to Uncle Rufus–especially since Uncle Rufus probably lives in a town that has cleared a lot of forest and killed a lot of animals for meat. Surely a priest of Ehlonna, good though he may be, is not required to cater to those who eschew nature and live in structures of wood and stone.

But let’s say that Uncle Rufus happens to come across a kindly cleric of Pelor. The cleric of Pelor says, “I’m afraid I can’t heal you for free because…”

3. Not All Patients Are Equal

In the fine year of 1776, Thomas Jefferson wrote the phrase, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, etc. and so forth.” Most people believe this to be true to this day, but the default setting of D&D is not 21st century Western democracy. The default setting of D&D is a pseudo-medieval setting of kings and queens, lords and ladies, dukes and duchesses. In this society, some men are more equal than others. The king, for instance. Suppose the king is gored by a boar on a hunting trip on the same day that Uncle Rufus falls and breaks his arm. Who here takes precedence? The ruler of the realm, without whom there will be political turmoil and disarray, or a country bumpkin?

It may rankle our modern sensibilities to spit in the face of egalitarianism in such a way, but the king wins out. Sorry, Rufus, a charity case means the king dies. You’re not getting a cure spell until you can pony up the cash because otherwise you’re not important enough to treat. Harsh, innit? This is even more true when you consider professional adventurers.

The people who are likely paying for spells are probably treasure hunters. That’s where all the money is in D&D. So when the group stops into town after a haul, they pay for that restoration and a cure spell so they can hit the dungeon again. Between the two, who does a more valuable service to society: the dudes cleaning out underground monster lairs, or the farmer? Exactly. Part of charging for spells means that adventurers get first dibs on them, which generally means that some not-so-nice bad guys end up dead. It’s a win-win for everyone involved.

However, don’t think that cleric is being a jerk for withholding the cure spell from Uncle Rufus. See…

4. The Church Needs Money, Too

Clerics of a church need money. They need the money so they can further their ends, which include building temples and training priests (thereby increasing the total number of cure spells in the world). That gp they just took from the group of adventurers likely goes to alms, too. Charging for healing spells effectively acts as a tax on adventurers. This allows the charity-minded priests to feed and clothe the hungry (although the not-so-charity-minded priests need money, too).

When you consider that D&D priests live in a world of demons and liches, it also makes sense to consider that they need money to arm and fund resistance to demons and liches. In my experience, a lot of D&D games treat religion as an afterthought. Oh, yeah, there’s a temple in town, go there if you need healing. Of course, the church is much more involved than that. You aren’t just talking priests here, people who are devoutly religious. A cleric is someone whose faith is so great he has access to supernatural powers. When a cleric clicks the hotkey for cure light wounds, he’s touching a fragment of his god’s power. He summons a fragment of celestial energy to the material realm, channels it through his hands, and miraculously heals the sick.

Do you think that might change his outlook on life a little? I think it might. Chances are he’s very, very concerned with his god’s standing, and he’s actively working to further his god’s will. That ain’t cheap.

Despite all this, some people might still insist that there’s no good reason clerics should charge for their healing spells. In that case, let me make the final point:

5. Some Dudes Are Jerks

There’s a difference between Good and Perfect. Maybe the cleric wants to buy his wife a nice piece of jewelry. Maybe he just has a weakness for gold. Maybe he’s saving up for a +1 mace. Who knows? The idea that clerics should be perfect altruists at all times runs contra to reality. Remember the rules:

A cleric who grossly violates the code of conduct required by his god loses all spells and class features, except for armor and shield proficiencies and proficiency with simple weapons. He cannot thereafter gain levels as a cleric of that god until he atones (see the atonement spell description).

Emphasis mine.

If the cleric casts inflict light wounds and kills Rufus, he’s “grossly violated” his deity’s moral code. But if he says, “Nah, you’re going to have to get me 10gp if you want that arm healed,” he’s being a jerk. And unless his jerkishness is resulting in mass misery and death, he’s an imperfectly Good cleric.