Robot Claw

I just got home from playing in the pre-release of the new MTG expansion named Avacyn Restored. As is usually my wont, here’s a summary of events.

I was very lucky, and pulled thee mythic rares from my six boosters. One is a mind-bendingly unusual card that has no place in prerelease decks (Descent Into Madness) but the other two, shown above, looked like fun. Happily my best colours seemed to be red and white, so I eagerly assembled a two-colour deck tribal deck heavily based around Humans that include both of these mythics.

The deck would be called Advent Of Homosuperior. With a name like that, how could it lose?

At this point I will say that the event was long – 6+ hours in total! – and some of the details are a bit foggy. This includes details of my opponents, so I can say that although my recollections may at this point be a bit foggy, I’m going to try to describe the events as accurately as possible. I apologize in advance if the details are a bit dry. MTG is a game for the mind, some may say, not the eyes!

So let the games begin!

Round One (2-1)

My first opponent looked a bit like this…

…and I think his name was Martin. He was relatively new to magic, this was his first prerelease, and he was visibly nervous. I could sense fear in him as I shook his hand. To rankle him I bellowed “Behold the advent of the homosuperior!” as I shuffled my deck. Or something like that, at least.

His deck was green and red and, if I’m honest, a bit crap. I beat him handily in round 1 but in round 2 fell victim to an evil (and, let’s be frank here, unsporting since it wasn’t me doing it) combination of a +6/+6 miracle and +x/+0 instant that led to him hitting me for 18 with a 3/3 creature! It was with unrestrained glee that I bonfired his snivelling Degvillean arse in round 3 for the win.

Round Two (2-0)

Round two was against a swarthy bear-like man playing a deck almost identical to mine. The brute looked a bit like this…

…and introduced himself as Brian. I could tell he was the serious type, and perhaps a bit cocksure. His lung capacity seemed prodigious.

At any rate he won the roll and went first, and played a mountain and then a Somberwald Vigilante. I followed with an identical play, which surely threw him off! I forget his next, next and next cards because they didn’t matter since – KABOOM – bonfire for the quick win! Suck on that, Vultan!

Excuse me.

I won both games handily. He may have had the bigger lungs, but I triumphed in the brain department!

Round Three (0-2)

It was here, good folks, that things started to go astray. I will not concede my talents were lacking, or I played poorly. No devoted readers, the source of my downfall was something else indeed.

My third opponent looked almost exactly like this:

Did she introduce herself? I’m not sure. Let’s call her Sara. Now I’ve never seen a person like this before, especially not even in a photo in an email from AW that I had read on my phone just minutes before the round, so I was unprepared. She shuffled and dealt, and I was distracted by her Lum-ness. My thoughts clouded, my brain addled. I was smitten.

In accordance with her garb, she played a green and yellow (by which I mean white) deck heavy on fliers and really bad cards that hurt me badly. In a bad way.

What particular cards did she win with (this one and this one)? Did I even mount a valiant defense (nope)? Was my loss due to her skill (yes) or my bad playing (maybe)? The answers to all of these questions are unknown. She had boots on as well.

But what was konwn is I had met my match, and been knocked down a peg. The tall poppy – as they say – had been cut. The goose had been cooked, and even perhaps the horse had been led to water. Sara had given me a fish and most definitely not taught me how to fish. My loss (0-2) was absolute.

Round Four (0-2)

My resolve was stronger even that it had ever been the morning after it had been weakest! Never, I said, would the fairer-sexed player charm me into a loss! I would be immune to wiles, regroup, and once again herald the Advent Of Homosuperior.

My next opponent looked like this:

I lost 0 – 2.

Round Five (2-1)

Things had gotten iffy about this point. If I didn’t win another game I was out of the running for a prize. So I decided to stick around for one more round on the off chance I may win. Because of the way things work my next opponent was in the same boat. He looked a bit like this:

I sensed a kindred spirit in this fellow. Was he also a professor? Had he also, perhaps, once played Gauntlet on his C64 for 24 hours straight? Could he have even been a supertaster? I would never know, since of course I’d never presume to intrude on anyone’s privacy. His name was King Henry VIII.

His Majesty played an interesting blue/red deck with a smattering of control and a trifling amount of mill cards. Which he seemed to draw all in his opening hand. And then play. Against me. Effectively.

It was only when the Dreadwaters resolved and I had zero cards in my library did I realize the magnitude of my loss.

But I would not concede! The great game was afoot, since five losses in a row was too much! What the hell had happened to my homosuperiors! They weren’t even close to adventing. I changed tack (which means I did nothing differently, actually) and started the next round.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Lots of cards were played by me alone! Damage was done by me alone! I won quickly and easily. Only a cynic would argue it was because my opponent was mana-screwed, since only half-men use such excuses. If – for instance – I ever lost due to a mana screw I’d never ever admit it. In fact I’d more likely make up some ludicrous story about being charmed by a lovely cosplaying opponent than losing due to mana screw against a guy who looks like he stocks shelves at K-Mart. So if my victory here was by the skin of my teeth and only due to mana-screw on King Henry’s behalf, then I’ll leave that for him to admit.

It was down to the third of our three games. Back and forth, tit and tat, little victory here, little victory there. It was like World War 1 in trading card form and our table was The Somme. But then the opponent unveiled what he no doubt thought would be his Big Bertha – I speak of Reforge The Soul – which drew him a bunch of whatever cards but drew me Avacyn herself. Which I then played. My victory was absolute.

I was back in the running for top 8 and a prize. But I absolutely had to win my sixth round 2-0. The pressure was on.

Round Six (0-2)

Last and – let’s face it – least round. Two opponents, each at 2 wins and 2 losses. Each clawing for the others throats, since a 2-0 win in this round would enable a miniscule chance at the top 8. There would be no quarter – none at all! My opponent looked like this…

…and went by the name 6.

6 won the role, and went first. He was playing red and green, and was earnest. He wanted to win. I wanted to go home. He was a young man. Me old. He had the soul of a boy. I had the soul of a man. His deck was called Apogee Of Terror. Mine was called Advent Of Homosuperior.

I’ve been trying to keep this summary short, so I’ll cut to the chase. He won. I lost.

Summary

I played 14 games in total today using the same deck, which I never adjusted between rounds. I won only 6 of those games or, as some may say, half a dozen.

In retrospect I perhaps should have called my deck Nadir Of Homosapien which would have resulted in a thematic win somewhere in this loss. But in reality this would be nothing but a sham. I lost, and I lost utterly. My downfall was absolute, dreadful and soul-destroying. I wiped tears from my eyes as I drove away from the game store.

Never again, by which I mean about three months, would I flop another MTG card.

But the next time I do…

…well let’s just say that I’m not going to be the player who writes on his blog afterwards that he wasn’t the guy who didn’t lose 🙂