“I’ve got one out,” he announces suddenly on his
opponents turn. Game three with lethal damage coming in the following turn.
There’s a dozen people crowding around, waiting for the last match to decide
the PTQ. To one, a blue envelope and a trip to Spain. To the other, a
handshake and a pat on the back.
“What?” his opponent asks, confused.
“One out in the deck. One card that beats you.” He looks
down at the stack of cards. “One Blight Dragon.”
His opponent looks at the board. No flyers to speak of,
and only a Doom Blade in hand. With most of a dozen swamps in play, and a
Lashwrithe, the Dragon would attack for the full ten infect – a veritable
one-shot.
He’s got maybe forty cards left in his library. Two
percent odds. Two and a half, maybe.
“So draw the card.”
He'd worked so hard to get here. Nine grueling rounds of play. Dozens of hours of practice and tuning his deck. He knew every card, picked and tested each one. He was up half the night agonizing about a last-minute switch. He sleeved it up even though everyone told him he was wrong. He trusted his deck then.
He places his hand on top of the deck, takes a deep breath, and whispers, practically praying.
He places his hand on top of the deck, takes a deep breath, and whispers, practically praying.
“Just one time, deck. Just one time.”
He flips the card.
-----
Over the last few days, there’s been a lot of talk about
a new mechanic that’s coming out with Avacyn Restored. That mechanic is Miracle.
If you’ll excuse
the lore nut in me for a moment, I adore this mechanic. Magic lore is full of
moments like this. The sudden turn and twist that overturns everything we know.
The moment when we realize that, maybe, despite the odds, we can do this. It
distills everything in the game to one critical point where everything hangs in
the balance.
“What is Urza doing with that Sylex?”
“Is the Legacy powerful enough to defeat Yawgmoth,
manifest upon Dominaria?”
“What’s happening to the Eye of Ugin?”
“Does Thalia sacrifice her men, or the Helvault?”
Miracle tells
us everything that we need to know. When you’re on your last topdeck, knowing
that nothing in the world could save you, and suddenly, Time Walk appears. Not
a five mana time walk imitation. Not a variant with buyback. Honest to god, two
mana, take another turn. You get a breath of fresh air, an extra untap, cast
one extra spell, and dig yourself back from the precipice.
It’s hard to call that anything but a miracle.
The detractors from this mechanic have a point. Magic is
designed to be a skill-intensive game. Giving more power to random elements
like the draw stew doesn’t increase the skill required to be good at it. Any
chump could top deck four Thunderous Wrath and beat the best player in the
world. There are issues with the mechanic being extraordinarily swingy. When draws
such a huge role in a game, it’s easy to get frustrated by the ‘run bads’ or to
lose a game because of sheer luck.
But you've been there - that situation when you're drawing dead. You hate that feeling. Everyone hates that feeling. How much better is it to play a game when you're behind, but you've got outs. If we didn't want any randomness, we'd play chess. Every top deck is a thrill. Did I find it? Did I get there? You know that you probably won't find it, but every so often...
There is a quote on my desk. I feel
like it distills this down to a single line.
“When something isn’t supposed to happen, but it does,
that’s magic.”
So, is this much variance good for the game? Certainly,
it’s going to lead to blowouts. It’s going to lead to a sudden reversal at a
critical moment. It’s going to make everyone peel their eyes on the top of the
deck when that last draw happens – hoping, praying.
It’s going to cause upsets. It’s going to make people
talk about it. And, sure, while someone might be a little sour about losing the
PTQ to the lucky topdeck, someone else is going to be on a cloud because they
pulled the card, won, and ended up at a Pro Tour.
“I’m going to Hawaii!”
“I’m
going to Spain!”
“I’m going!”
So, is that good for the game? Let’s go back to a
different story, from not so long ago:
-----
He looks down at his hand, no help there. A single
whipflare stares back at him, just not powerful enough. Across the board: a
fleet of 4/4 hexproof spirits threatening lethal damage. He has one chance –
one out. There were two whipflares left in the deck, and either of them would
dig him out, wipe the board, and let him set up for a favorable endgame.
Any other card meant death.
He puts his hand on the deck, his hand gripping on the
top card. He pulls it, flipping it over because he knows it’s the only thing
that matters anymore in this game.
Whipflare
The crowd goes wild.
Brian Kibler taps the mana and wipes the board, so
overcome with relief and emotion that he even forgets to attack with his
creature before wiping the board. A few short hours later, he’s clutching a
trophy in his hands as they name him Pro Tour Champion.
“Just one time, deck. Just one time.”
