I’ll follow Chimera’s example and tell some of my own D&D tales. Only mine aren’t quite as recent…
Many, many years ago, in a land far, far away, I decided to play a wizard. This was a big deal for me, since I usually liked to hit stuff with a sword. Our DM wanted me to try out a caster, so he helped me roll up a low-level pyromaniacal wizard. I prepared spells like Burning Hands, Scorching Ray, Fireball… (Or was it their 3e equivalent? I don’t remember).
Anyways, this was back in the good-old pre-internet days, when the DM kept the Monster Manual under lock and key. So when I learned that my mission was to go clear an old house of ghosts, I had no idea that fire only had a 50% chance of effecting them, as opposed to, say, magic missile. So I prepared an assortment of firey spells and set off.
I climbed a hill and came upon an old wooden house. I walked in. It was very, very creepy; but nothing was happening. And then, suddenly, dozens of ghosts flew out of the walls straight at me!
I fired off a Scorching Ray, and… did nothing. I dived for cover and shot another ghost with Scorching Ray; nothing. Then I had an idea.
“Ghosts are bound to their place of death, right?” “Yes.” “So, if the thing they’re haunting is destroyed, they cease to exist?” “Erm… Yeah, I guess.” “Great. FIREBALL!”
That’s right. I set the old house on fire and dived out the window. Got rid of a whole bunch of ghosts, and from that day on I loved playing casters.