SCG Talent Search – Sex and Magic: The Gathering

“There is only one thing I’d rather do at any given time than draft… but that only takes about twenty minutes” 

– Hall Of Fame Magic Player.

Now, don’t get your panties all in a bunch. Before all of you start trolling the forums about how I’m violating the Prime Commandment by mentioning sex
on a gaming website, take the time to think it through. Is sex an appropriate subject for a PG-13 site? It’s not like I’m telling you to steal your
mother’s credit card to buy draft sets, smoke pot, put on a dress and prance in front of a bunch of guys, bend the tournament rules to try to
disqualify an innocent opponent that just beat you on the off chance that it might benefit you, gamble in side drafts, cheat while shuffling, or to
ignore all the social norms of friendship for a set of arbitrarily established standards, or even get so sloshed you puke and then post the
pictures online. Sex is an important part of being a living, breathing mammal, and Magic tends to interfere with the acquisition of said sex for the
members of the genus Maleus Geekus that play the game. Thus it is relevant.

Believe me, sex matters more than choosing sleeves for your deck.

Magic and sex compete for your free time. After school or work is done, you have a limited amount of hours that you can spend at your discretion and
that correspond with the time that others have available. Friday nights are traditionally for dating or high-school football. Friday Night Magic is set
smack-dab in the middle of prime dating real estate, and one has to get shafted for the other to succeed. Bad pun intended.

Expect plenty of penis jokes and warrior chicks in bikinis.

Many years ago, when I was still single, I’d go to the local game store every single Friday night to go play Magic. My decks were prepared, cards were
purchased, and strategies were made on how to defeat the metagame surrounding me. Hours were spent looking online for the latest tech that I could take
into the tournament in order to vanquish my foes. Alas, I’m a good deck designer and a bad player. I still haven’t won a single FNM, but my decks have
won several in the hands of better pilots than myself. I digress; this story isn’t about slinging cardboard but rather of slinging flesh, and how
cardboard and meat are in competition.

One particular Friday, I had a date. Shower, shave, get dressed, pick a location, use cologne, and make sure that the underwear was clean and free of
holes. The preparation checklist was run down like I was an astronaut aiming to go to the moon. Since I had no use for it, a friend asked to borrow my
sixty to do battle. On my way to pick up my date, I stopped by the store to drop off the deck. Obviously I hung out for a couple of minutes, staring at
the guys playing and fighting my urge to stay and game. I delivered the box, said my goodbyes, and started to go on my merry way. Then started the
complaints of “how can you leave?” I explained I had a date, and that I had to go. One of the local teenage males said “Magic is so much more fun! How can you go on a date when you can play Magic?”

That just floored me. Left without much to say, I asked the group “Okay. Which one of you is volunteering to BEEP my BEEP?” Crickets chirped
into the silence. Believe it or not, no one raised a hand to put himself in the line of fire and take one for the team. When faced with no response, I
said, “She volunteers, she wins,” and walked out.

Brian Kibler, Tim Tebow, and Chuck Norris walk into a bar

True story. The only man ever known to have sexual relations at a tournament is Brian Kibler. Osyp told me once, and if Osyp says so, then it must be
true.

So what happened after I walked out of the FNM? Did I quit Magic? Yes, of course I did! This time it was going to be different. I was going to study
more, get better grades, which would lead to a better paying job and a fancier car, so that I could go on more dates and get my BEEP BEEPED more often
and by better-looking volunteers. Since I no longer would stay up until all hours of the night testing on Magic Workstation or drafting on MTGO, this
meant that I’d get up early to go to the gym and become buff, leading to even more BEEPING and even maybe some CENSORED if I got lucky.

Yes, Magic was the thing that was stopping me from fulfilling my potential. I’d be richer, smarter, nicer, better looking, more popular, and able to
save humanity from the evil empire of Social Capitalism. Not to mention I’d have more sex. All I had to do was quit Magic.

So I did.

Fast forward a few months. I’m now lying in my bed. It’s 2:30 am. My brain doesn’t seem to understand that I decided that this whole insomnia thing was
out. “We are getting regular sleep from now on!” I argue, to no effect.

I look to my right. A naked girl on her side, her back towards me… Nice. I make my move and reach, but instead of heading to the right, my hand
goes left. Instead of flesh, I grab laptop.

“Maybe if I’m quiet she won’t wake up, and ‘ll be able to finish a draft.”
Wonderful! There are now seven in the queue. Only one more to go, and we can party.

Sex requires its own metagame.

Have you ever worked all day, drafted all night, and then gotten up to work all day the following morning? Yeah, me neither.

Enough of this wallowing in the troth of self pity. I know why you read what I write: jokes about sexual organs and badly executed Photoshops. We’re
here because of the cardboard and the sex and the love for both. Speaking of cardboard, in order to write this article I spent a long time looking at
Magic art hunting for boobage. These basic truths became evident upon studying visual spoilers; they are my magnum opus:

 MAGIC SEX TRUTH #1 – Mythic rares have bigger boobs.

 

What’s my advice regarding chicks at a Magic Tournament? Simple: don’t go there to flirt; go there to game.

Would you attempt to find snow in the Sahara? What makes you think a field full of gamer stench will lead to rolls in the hay? Don’t go to FNM with
hopes of making the beast with two backs. That will only lead to lending a hand to the unemployed in order to make Cyclops cry. Take a shower, and head
to a setting where the female-to-male ratio is better than 150 to 1.

You can’t meet girls? Tech is going to where they’re found instead of where they’re not.

MAGIC SEX TRUTH #2 – Constructed staples are sexed up

Eternal Witness and Wild Nacatl are both green, both push the boundaries of power for a creature, and both are showing off skin. Constructed staples
receive extra love to make them more attractive. Makes you want to stroke the cardboard they’re printed on. Really smart, when you think about it. If
you can foresee players looking at this card more than others, then make it so that staring at it is a pleasant experience.

You see, Magic doesn’t just deliver a game, but rather the metagame that’s all around it. That’s how they get you. You try to beat the game
through the meta… only to become addicted. Was the incident mentioned above the only time I’ve abandoned Magic? Gamer, puh-lease. Magic is the
easiest thing in the world to quit.

I, myself, have quit at least thirty-five times.

*Sigh* I’ll just concede and admit Richard Garfield makes better dope than Marlboro. I was able to quit cigarettes cold turkey from a pack-and-a-half a
day to zero through sheer stubbornness. Why, oh why is cardboard more addictive than nicotine? I always run strong until the itch returns. Sitting at a
computer, minding my own business, my fingers start typing www.magicthegather… WAIT! Traitorous Digits! Stay away from the keyboard! We’ll now only
do things that further us as human beings. Okay. Let’s do some research on optimizing access times on multiple hard drives for the Data Base.
Let’s see… Google. Okay. Here’s the search box. Okay. Let’s type in the query: Data Base Optim.starcitygam… I TOLD YOU TO STOP IT!

Should I duct tape my fingers together as their punishment? They’re clearly not aware of the plan. This time, Magic won’t be stopping me from
converting into a cooler version of Iron Man except with more meaningless sex.

MAGIC SEX TRUTH #3 – The people at Wizards are furries.

Yes, furries like to dress up as big animals to have sex. R&D being overcome would explain
Ken Nagle’s reign of terror.

MAGIC SEX TRUTH #4 – Angels are sexy and angry

 

 “Are you playing cards again?”
wails the Magic Widow.

“Sometimes I think those cards matter more than me.”
One of my fellow junkies actually told his girlfriend straight up that “yes, they do.” Actually, make that his former girlfriend.

The tipping point in success with my wife came when she realized that my card playing translated into

trips to exotic locations like Kuala Lumpur.

Now, when I’m testing for a PTQ, she asks about the Pro Tour location. Paris got a ringing endorsement for more testing; Austin was lowered in
importance to somewhere behind going shoe shopping.

To all of you youngsters who are thinking about cardboard and women: Be aware; you’ll have to compromise. When my wife announces she’s running late, I
ask the critical question:

Me: How long will it be, honey?

*** Start Strategic aside ***

Think it through… how late do you want her to be? Thirty minutes means you wait. One hour means you wait. One hour and a half means you Momir.
Two hours means a quick draft; two and a half hours means you can draft in peace.

There’s a sweet spot of timing where you can scratch the itch. Get your fix in before you start twitching in your chair from withdrawal. Straight-up
cardboard is the only known cure to the awkward dance.

*** End Strategic aside ***

Her: It will take three hours.

Me: Oh. Okay. I’ll wait at home then.

Fist pump! Let the drafting commence! This is why Constructed is a young man’s game. Us old folks with jobs and families play Limited. Even Momir
will do in a pinch. Was it always so? I remember being young, dumb, and full of… gaming.

Anyway.

At one point in time relationships reach the full disclosure stage where you say things like “I have a venereal disease” or“I’d like to have eight children” or “I hate children” or “My cats are more important than your religion” or “My religion is more important than your cats.” The moment when you confess to The Secret.

What secret? You know… that secret. The one that’s so dark you’d rather just get it out in the open, so it doesn’t come back to snake you
later. The one that has bit you in the past.

Me: “I play cards.”