It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Scanlan Shorthalt, a gnome bard . You are the member of the famous group of adventurers. Previously, you casts Invisibility on himself and starts digging through his pockets, looking for anything he could use to create fire. He finds a Potion of Fire Breath.
DM: You're checking your pockets. You find the potion. You look down and you notice, even through the storm, you can see in the distance, there's the dark shape of a giant lumbering zombie guard making its way down to this part of the town. What are you doing?
Player: So I'm on a roof that's all soaking wet, right?
DM: Yeah.
Player: There's no crawl space access? No attic I can get to?
DM: Make a perception check.
Player: Okay. Whoa, nothing. Two.
DM: Two? This is a pretty solid roof with apparently no entry point at any points. The craftsmanship is flawless.
Player: Okay. You know what? I'll just try it. I will Fire Breath Potion myself.
DM: Okay, you pull up (boink), pull the cork off, (glug glug).
Player: I don't know what this thing does. I've just got this.
DM: As you feel the fluid find its way down your esophagus, it warms it like a fine whiskey would, but the warmth just grows and grows to the point where it's almost too hot, but it never quite reaches a point where it's painful, but you feel as if this need to belch is burbling within your stomach, and at any given point in time, you could let that belch fly forward.
