When Riki Hayashi introduced me (and the rest of the Justice League) to all you fine StarCityGames.com readers, he mentioned that I am an asker of questions. Now, to be truthful, I ask lots of questions. I like poking and prodding at the assumptions we hold in the DCI as judges. Now that I have an audience, allow me to poke and prod at the assumptions that we — yes, we, even though I don’t think I’ve played FNM in a year — hold as players. So let me ask you this. It’s a fairly simple question.
What would happen if we started treating FNM like the Pro Tour? Which is to say: What if we expected players to have the same level of technical precision and rules knowledge at Friday Night Magic as they did at the Pro Tour?
Unless you’re the kind of player who insists on recording every priority pass and walking through the exact steps for playing a spell as cited in section 409 of the Comprehensive Rules, I don’t think I’m out of line by assuming your answer: “It would be an absolutely miserable experience.” And it definitely would. I can’t imagine just how bad it would be, but I’m guessing people would stop going to FNM.
While you’re thinking about that, let me tell you about my friend Aaron. Aaron Hamer is a fellow judge (and the head judge of our upcoming $5,000 Standard Open in Atlanta); we met at U.S. Nationals in 2006 and, since then, we’ve worked a handful of events together. He’s undoubtedly one of the best judges with whom I’ve ever worked, and I’ve been fortunate enough to throw infinite random ideas and questions at him over the past few years. One of the big lessons I’ve taken away from discussions with Aaron is the idea of managing expectations: the expectations we have of an event, the expectations that we have of other judges, and the expectations we have of ourselves. Whilst the latter two expectations are interesting in the abstract, they’re topics for other articles written at other times.
Expectations are useful. I like expectations. As they relate to events, understanding what you can expect from an event is a good way to ensure that you enjoy yourself and stay out of trouble. If you’re a new player, your first tournament can be a very intimidating thing. Would it change your experience to know that, at FNM, expectations of your rules knowledge and understanding of policy are minimal? In fact, one of the big things the DCI tries to do with programs like FNM is give people their first taste of the tournament experience. It’s okay to make mistakes there.
The rules enforcement level (REL) at which FNM is run is called Regular. At Regular REL, for example, there are only two infractions for which a player can be penalized with a game loss: Illegal Decklist (which typically doesn’t happen at FNM) and Unsporting Conduct — Major (which hopefully doesn’t happen at FNM). Every other infraction you could commit at FNM would either be penalized with a caution, a warning, or a disqualification. There are even infractions that normally result in disqualification — randomly determining the winner of a match, for one — that can be downgraded at Regular REL at the head judge’s discretion.
But why is that? Why do we tolerate certain things at a casual tournament that we don’t tolerate on the floor of a Pro Tour? Furthermore, why do we go so far as to codify it into official DCI policy?
Unsurprisingly, the answer has much to do with what the DCI expects of players at various RELs. This is tied very closely to the stakes at any given tournament. It would be silly to ask your average FNM player to play with the exacting precision we ask Pro Tour players to have. Considering the entire purpose of FNM — having fun playing Magic with your friends — does it really matter whether you understand the point at which you play mana abilities during the casting of a spell? (Pro tip: you play mana abilities before you pay costs, hence the strange interaction between Wild Cantor and Conclave Equanaut) It would completely defeat the point of the tournament — how much fun can you have trying out your new deck if you have to spend half your time figuring out exactly how to move through your turn? And for what — a few packs and a promo foil Mulldrifter?
Conversely, behavior that seems reasonable at your local store would definitely not fly if you qualified for the Pro Tour, which is held at Professional REL. Takebacks, for example, don’t happen. This doesn’t stop players for asking for them, or expecting them to be allowed, but when you’re playing against somebody for the opportunity to win $40,000, it would be unreasonable to expect that your opponent is not going to hold you to the strict wording of the rules if doing so will gain them an advantage. Let me emphasize that insisting on playing by the rules as they are applied in the context of that particular event is not unsporting behavior. Your opponent is not a jerk if they hold you to your misplay. They are playing competitively and, on the scale of behavior — sporting on one end, unsporting on the other — such actions fall somewhere in the middle.
But I digress. When we put players in a position to compete for money or prestige, we fully expect that they will compete to the best of their capabilities, using whatever legitimate advantages are available to them. To paraphrase section 50 of the Penalty Guide, we’re perfectly okay with players using superior rules knowledge and understanding of game mechanics to leverage some kind of advantage over their opponent. We also expect that they know the game well enough to do so, and being ignorant of such things is not accommodated at that level of the game.
From my experience as a tournament organizer, I feel it would also be useful to mention the expectations that players can have of their tournament organizers, and what tournament organizers expect of players. A player at a tournament can expect that they will be treated respectfully, that the staff of said tournament will be happy to help them, and that the event will be run smoothly — rounds will turn over quickly, pairings will be posted in easily-accessible places, and so on. A good tournament organizer will be invested in the development of the Magic community, rather than solely focused on squeezing out as much money as possible from the scene.
As far as what a tournament organizer expects from players, much of it has to do with conduct and behavior: don’t be a jerk, have your cash and your DCI number ready when you want to sign up, and let us know if there’s something we can do to help you have a good time. One pet peeve I do have, and feel compelled to mention, is this: please, please, please pick up your wrappers, whether for your food or for your booster packs. I can’t speak for every judge, or every tournament organizer, but as much as I love giving rulings and answering questions, it’s hard to be enthusiastic about cleaning up after somebody’s half-eaten burger. Consider it a small favor to me, dear reader, if you’ve ever enjoyed anything I’ve written for this site.
Again, I digress. Ultimately, the point is to have fun. Different people play Magic for different reasons, and have fun in different ways. More than one Magic player has commented that winning is fun, and that’s true, but for other players, simply being excited about playing with cool new cards is enjoyable enough. Heck, I’ve been playing for more than a decade, and I still get that ten-year-old sense of excitement when I think about going ultimate with Nicol Bolas. Regardless, knowing what you’re getting yourself into will optimize your chances of having a good time — who doesn’t want that?
Whilst we’re on the topic of expectations, here’s one that I learned from a big multiplayer game two weeks ago: if Vicious Shadows hits the board, expect to take lots and lots of damage. During a seven-player game a few weeks back, I found myself with Vicious Shadows and a few random tokens (thanks to Necrogenesis), but no other real action. Tim Furrow, a few seats away, pops off Razia’s Purification. This is amusing in itself, but the shenanigans are only compounded when Phil Deneka, sitting immediately to my right, responds by popping three lands back into his hand from Meloku the Clouded Mirror, leaving him with a grip of nine cards. By the time Razia’s Purification resolves, nine creatures have gone to the graveyard, including Phil’s tokens. This triggers Vicious Shadows nine times, leaving me with the opportunity to smash Phil in the face for eighty-one damage.
Like a sucker, I let Phil live — albeit barely, throwing four Vicious Shadows triggers at his face for thirty-six damage — but his Sun Droplet managed to mitigate that rather nicely. He outlasted me, but not before I took Tim down with… something. I honestly can’t remember what it was. All in all, the game lasted for something like three hours, and was most definitely worth it.
That’s all I have for this week, folks. If you’re planning on showing up to either of our StarCityGames.com $5000 Opens in Atlanta or Minneapolis, please feel free to say hello. I’ll be the bald guy with the glasses in the SCG staff shirt, talking in lolcat and picking up wrappers.
Until next time…
Nicholas
nicholas dot sabin at starcitygames dot REL
NicholasAtSCG on our forums and… pretty much everywhere else.