William Spaniel writes for (and then some) Londes.com, a Magic site I have recently discovered. While I’ve seen some rather unflattering things said/implied in the forums about the site, I must give Mr. Spaniel his due props. It appears (to me, at least) that he keeps Londes up and running practically by himself, with sporadic input from a few semi-regular contributors. His passion and dedication is to be applauded, even as others take potshots for their own reasons.
However, he went and wrote about all things rogue, which is a subject both near and dear to my heart, not to mention a controversial lightning rod-type-thing in the community. Rarely can a subject so seemingly benign arouse either ardent support or complete fury.
He used an article by Nathan Peter David Heiss as his general attack dog, most likely because Nate is, if not the king of rogue, at least a figurehead; there are few more rogue than Mr. Heiss, and he willingly carried the flag into battle at every opportunity.
Rather than a typical Rizzo-esque rant on net decks (which I’ve grown to respect, if not love), I figured a linear discussion would be much more bearable. To that end, I will quote liberally, since I’m really a leftist at heart, and it’s much easier than coming up with my own thoughts on the matter.
Mr. Spaniel’s articles in question, the first of which I lovingly refer to as “You Stupid Rogues,” and the original “Bashing Nate, A Stupid Rogue,” can be found here:
http://www.londes.com/article.php?id=747
http://londes.com/article.php?id=567
While Nate’s original article resides up in here:
http://magic.tcgplayer.com/db/article_classroom.asp?ID=4406
And away we go:
“…rogue has become romanticized to the point where many now believe playing rogue is somehow noble while netdecking is dishonorable.”
I’ll agree that that rogue has been elevated by some to an unrealistic pillar of justice. This doesn’t necessarily place netdecking in the category of “crime against humanity” by default, but this does state the opinions of both sides fairly well – fair enough that we can consider this statement to be the basis from which we will work.
“The most compelling reason to play rogue is that your opponent will often have no idea what the hell you are doing.”
This is my major and prurient interest in going rogue. While I’m so bad at Magic that any advantage I gained with the element of surprise is quickly eliminated due to my profusely sucking at this game, it’s often enough to make my opponents pick up my cards and read them. “Pyrrhic victory” seems apropos.
“Even in the best case scenario, though, your rogue factor may eventually hit a wall. By the time you get into the later rounds of PTQs, your likely opponents should have heard about your deck, seen it for themselves, or had their friends scout it for them. By the top eight…you can expect the rogue aspect to be irrelevant at that point.”
True enough, at least of good rogue decks. I imagine that if I had made Top 8 with my retarded Ichorid deck at the PTQ I attended, most of the competitors would have had a reasonable idea how to defeat me. Oh, actually, no they wouldn’t.
Even though my deck was far from optimal (no Wonder or Moxen, bad mana, Mesmeric Fiend), I believe it was so freakin’ rogue that without exact specific particular hoser hate cards and a very good understanding of how my deck wins, they’d have very little chance. As reference, this was the Top 8 at the PTQ:
Five ‘Tog decks
Two Heartbeat
Boros Deck Wins
Give the ‘Tog decks their best possible draw, and me my worst, and maybe they win. After all, their ‘Togs could fly, while mine couldn’t. Heartbeat, despite Flores’ contentions, isn’t an auto-loss, and Boros is a virtual bye under even sub-optimal conditions.
Thus, give them perfect information, and it isn’t going to matter. Perhaps the ‘Tog decks could defend themselves with two whole copies of Coffin Purge from the side, and perhaps Heartbeat’s Moment’s Peace comes online fast enough to matter, and doesn’t get raped by Ichy/Therapy, and perhaps Boros… Well, it does play Red mana, which owns.
They could have known all about it, but in this case – which I’ll grant you seems extreme – it’s unlikely that this information could have helped enough to matter. Since I went 3-4, the point is moot.
At this point [top eight], rogue is irrelevant…? Actually, you’re right:
The perfect argument may be represented by Osyp’s performance at Worlds. By the time he reached Top 8, I imagine everyone and their mother knew about the deck. Did this knowledge somehow hurt his chances to win the entire shebang? I don’t know, but I’ll go out on a limb and suggest that any decks in the Top 8 without Withered Wretch and multiple Moment’s Peace could take everything they learned about the deck and stick it in their ass, because this seems like a prime example of knowledge not being power.
But William is correct on the bigger picture: it was rogue when I played it, rogue when Osyp did, even a teensy bit still-not-completely-assimilated-into-the-mainstream when Flores, Yurchick and Nagy played it, and then, well, suddenly it wasn’t.
“…some have this ridiculous notion that if you build a deck, you somehow know it better than you would a deck stolen offline.”
I spent more than two months fingering my silly little deck, and I insist that I knew it better than any deck I could have copied and tested for the same amount of time. Because it was mine, and every little nuance was made that much more important because it was from my dome.
Perhaps there are some who can put that same amount of introspection into decks they copy, but I’m from the right-wing school of thought that contends people care much more about things they own. Which are you more likely to care more about: an apartment or your home? A rental car or your vehicle?
“Moral of the story: playtesting = good.”
I agree completely. Without rigorous playtesting, which I actually did this time, I could have gone 0-6. Two of the decks I lost to, CAL and Goblins, were decks I hadn’t tested against; I built the deck to beat ‘Tog, Boros, and to actually have a chance against Affinity.
However, I would suggest that net decks, which have been extensively tested and tweaked by countless minds, can play better, on average, with much less personal involvement, ie: they’re much more “turnkey” than most rogue decks. Playtesting may be a prerequisite for success, but it’s doubly so when you go rogue.
“… one would certainly hope that if your deck is rogue that you won’t be playing in any mirror matches…”
Perhaps mirror match technology is a legitimate concern, but to the rogue, it’s a non-factor. My worries about facing a mirror were exactly nil. Of course, when the deck left its rogue status, defeating the mirror became paramount to success. Then again, it was no longer rogue, so none of this matters one single bit.
“Bulls*** reason #3: Rogue = Well-Rounded.”
I have no idea what this means, and question the relevance to the conversation. Rogue = rogue, whether well-rounded – as in a deck that has answers – or not well-rounded – as in Ichorid, that has one answer: a series of questions your opponent tries to answer before he dies. “Well-rounded” and “rogue” are not interchangeable, nor should either word appear with the other in the same sentence; it’s apples vs. oranges vs. kumquats vs. this doesn’t matter one bit.
“…you won’t be seeing any dedicated sideboard hate against you, but you could take most tier two decks and all tier three decks and say the same thing about them.”
You probably could, but most tier two and three decks are, by definition, not rogue, which means that, even if only by accident, some of the cards that are worth ‘board slots vs. tier one decks may actually be useful against tiers two and three. It’s the “accidental hate that isn’t really dedicated against you, but well, kinda useful in general anyway.”
“…a far majority of the time your opponent still will have some sideboard material because you really can’t get around the fact that aggro hates Wrath of God…”
Dear Everyone,
Please side in fifteen Wrath effects vs. me.
Love,
Ichorid
If I had to take a guess, out of the 117 opposing decks at the PTQ, I’d say certainly much less than half had “some” sideboard material against me. These decks would most likely be Rock variations with Wretch or even Engineered Plague, or ‘Tog decks with Haunting Echoes and Coffin Purge. Of the accidental hate I could have faced, none of them would have resulted in an immediate scoop.
“So if you are going to play rogue to win the game, make sure you are playing to win the game. Check to see if it is the best deck in the format. See if you really get any surprise advantage over your opponents. Don’t get caught up in the romanticism associated with going rogue. Do all of that, and you may just find yourself winning the game.”
While some rogue players concoct their decks for the sheer sake of nonconformity, I can safely say that I always expect even my crappiest decks to actually win more than they lose. Sometimes, okay, usually, I’m proven wrong. This could mean one of two things: the deck sucks at Magic, or I do. Often, it’s a combination, but much more often tilted toward my glaring lack of skills.
As for surprise advantages over my opponent: this is one of the major reasons I go rogue. While it’s true enough that a mere “surprise” doesn’t necessarily equate to a larger win percentage, I doubt that most rogues create their decks for that reason and that reason alone.
The “romanticism” is absolutely something to be caught up in – this is a fundamental aspect of rogue: me with my deck vs. you and yours. To me, this is part of the challenge: all you thousands of online tweakers vs. me, myself and I. Oftentimes, my decks, and those of other rogues, can’t compete with the big boys, but rarely do PTQ level players take decks they know will lose to a tourney.
Okay, I did that once, but it was a long time ago and I had a point. I think.
As an aside, I sincerely hope Guildpact, Dissension, Coldsnap or the untold thousands of players worldwide provide a solution to Ichorid, because I don’t look forward to playing in an environment where “My Therapy hit, his didn’t” decides the outcome of way too may matches. Get crackin’, y’all.
We now move onto the “Bashing Nate” article, in which, well, Nate gets bashed. The premise, as offered by Mr. Spaniel:
“The bottom line is that Nate Heiss is a philosophical scrub. He irrationally discounts every bit of Magic wisdom in favor of some crazy idealism. He plays bad decks in ridiculously powerful formats. Yet he has had a top 16 on the Pro Tour and won a Regionals with a deck that ran Aladdin’s Ring.”
Pardon me for disagreeing, but “philosophical scrub” indicates you believe that Nate’s ideas re: rogue, are on par with the guy who opens his first booster ever, sees a 7/7 for nine mana and nearly has an orgasm.
As for irrationally discounting Magic wisdom… Hold up, stop, wait a minute. “Magic wisdom” was not handed down from Mt. Ararat, and is subject to change at a moment’s notice. Magic wisdom is not static; it constantly evolves, and this is for the good of the game.
Some tenets have been accepted into the church of Unquestionable Magic Law, such as card advantage, but even the holy grail of Magic wisdom takes a beating now and again. I hate to keep bringing this up, but… Ichorid takes card advantage and smacks it in the nuts.
Ah, but that’s time or tempo advantage. Maybe it is, but the nature of the game dictates that Magic wisdom must be tweaked now and again to prevent the same games from happening over and over, for years, with the only difference being the names of the particular cards that generate duplicate effects from days past.
Nate will play the part of NATE, while SPANIEL goes to William Spaniel, and, since this is my article, I get to be TOUGH GUY!
Keep in mind that their words are their words and the property of whomever and some web sites and Wizards of the Coast does not endorse nor condone any of this s***.
NATE: First off, just because a deck is not the best deck does not mean it will fail. You might have a lower percentage of winning, but it is nowhere near zero.
SPANIEL: Hold on, hold on. Let’s redraw this situation for a moment. You can play either deck A or deck B at a tournament. In your projected metagame, deck A has a winning percentage of sixty percent. Deck B has a winning percentage of fifty-five percent. If you follow Nate Heiss‘ advice, you would be playing deck B. That’s not playing to win the game.
TOUGH GUY: Well, surely at the first PTQ of the season, everyone was playing Moreno’s deck, right? Hell, that was the best deck, and anyone not playing that deck was obviously playing for some other reason than to win, which was probably just to fill out the brackets. Tournament Organizers all around the world thank you all.
NATE: If you enjoy the deck you are playing, you will do better than normal.
SPANIEL: Where on earth do you pull this statistic from? I’m not a math major, but I’m pretty sure a smile does not add five to your winning percentage. On the other hand, I have seen plenty of smiling faces with really, really bad decks. I wonder whose idea that was…
TOUGH GUY: Regardless of winning percentage v. shiny happy people, piloting a deck that is enjoyable, as opposed to a pain-in- the-ass-thinker or plays-the-same-way-every-single-time, can be rewarding in its own right, and not just to those dumb, fat and happy rogue players in the loser’s bracket.
I believe Nate’s point was this: if you play a deck that is enjoyable to you, you’re more liable to perform better than if you tortured yourself by playing a “more better” deck that make you sick every time you sit down. Think Secret Force vs. Stasis.
NATE: If you created the deck yourself from scratch, tested and modified it over several hours of play, and made it good, you are going to know it inside and out.
SPANIEL: Say, might you be able to know any random deck inside and out by testing and modifying it over several hours of play?
TOUGH GUY: Perhaps. Again, I’ll stick by the idea that you tend to care more about what you own. Likewise, you’re more likely to search for every little synergy or flaw in something you have a personal stake in, which, nearly by default, forces you to question and justify every possible variation, no matter how subtle. While one can probably dedicate this much effort to a deck they downloaded, as I’m sure some do, I wonder to what extent this eye to detail is prevalent.
NATE: Even if you lose, you will understand what changes need to be made in order to improve the deck.
SPANIEL: Your playtesting should have taken care of most of his already. Of course, since your personal resources are far smaller than what the international community that creates net decks has, it’s understandable that you will often be finding out that your deck is inadequate.
TOUGH GUY: Playtesting is not infallible, nor a science. Yes, “most of this” should have been addressed in testing, and the international community is bigger and better than one guy locked in his room, trying out endless configurations of dredge cards, black creatures and card drawing spells. But they’re not always right.
NATE: You will never feel so in control of your deck as when it is actually yours, and not some net deck.
SPANIEL: Oops, apparently I’m wrong. You can only know how to play a deck if you created it. You most certainly cannot understand it by, you know, playtesting.
TOUGH GUY: In William Spaniel’s world, the phrases “You can only know how to play a deck” and “You will never feel so in control of a deck” mean the same thing. They don’t in mine, even if I’ve been known to take things out of context once in a while.
NATE: How many PTQs do you play in per season? They are your best testing grounds, because they are 100% real.
SPANIEL: No, these are your best qualifying grounds. Your best testing grounds is your playtest group. It’s entirely why you have a playtest group. If you wander into a PTQ wondering how in the world your deck is supposed to function, you deserve to lose. And unless you have a tendency to choke in real world situations, there is no reason you can’t simulate PTQ conditions in your own home.
TOUGH GUY: They are your qualifying grounds, but again, playtesting is not perfect, and the results are only as good as the weakest link. If every player in your group is highly skilled (ie: real freakin’ good, dawg), then oops, they’re still not perfect.
Playtesting, no matter how structured and well-intentioned, is just that: “testing.” But the PTQ is for real. It’s like football practice all week vs. going live on Monday night. There are intangibles that you may not discover in testing; the stronger the group, the more likely that fewer of these will rear their ugly heads at the PTQ and blindside you.
I find the idea you can simulate PTQ conditions in your own home to be laughable. It’s not the same, not even close. Ever. One event is preparation for the other event that is absolutely real. Actually, why even hold PTQs? Let’s just award blue envelopes to the best playtesters. Alas, anything can happen once it matters, and it usually will. Thinking that anyone can address all of these situations is hopelessly naïveté.
You did well in carving up that cadaver, here’s your doctor badge.
Am I ready to operate on a real live person?
Alive, dead, what’s the difference?
Wow, Scott Norwood, you really knocked ’em through the uprights today at practice.
My secret is to simulate the actual Super Bowl in my own home.
Then I have no doubt you’ll make that chip shot when it counts!
NATE: Go out on the battlefield against live ammo and it will become vividly apparent what flies and what dies.
SPANIEL: No, that’s what a playtesting gauntlet is for.
TOUGH GUY: See above, although Nate could have been a little clearer that while playtest results suggest what is likely to happen, the PTQ is where it really counts. Right, Mr. Buckner?
NATE: When the deck is your baby, it is a lot easier to switch cards in and out… It isn’t like a net deck where everyone is going to ridicule you for making some modification.
SPANIEL: Seriously, it’s not.
Step 1: Find four cards.
Step 2: Remove said cards from their sleeves.
Step 3: Place four new cards into said sleeves.
Step 4: Shuffle.
It’s seriously that easy. And don’t bother arguing that if it’s not your deck then you won’t know what cards you should switch out. It’ll take just as long to figure out which cards just aren’t cutting it whether you are playing Enduring Ideal or Tooth and Nail.
One of two things can happen in this situation. One, if your modification is ridiculously stupid, then the ridicule is correctly placed. Or two, you end up winning the tournament and they shut up. Either way, if these people ridiculing you are your friends, you probably need some new friends. If they are people you don’t know, then you need to learn how to tune out strangers.
TOUGH GUY: I tend to disagree with Nate on this. Ridicule aside, I can’t say it’s actually “easier” to switch cards in your own deck. However, I will say that, when you show ten people a net deck, you’ll probably get ten different opinions about what works and what doesn’t. When you show them a rogue deck, they’ll all tell you it sucks. In this regard, I can see where Nate’s coming from.
Spaniel’s mostly correct that you figure out which cards aren’t getting the job done, but I can’t vouch for the “it’ll take just as long” part. I mean, if the guy doesn’t go rogue, how the hell would he know?
And God forbid you have a friend that ever ridicules you. Gee, that’s not very guy-like at all. Most of my friends take my hand and calmly convey their concerns regarding card choices they disagree with. Then we watch Oprah and go shopping. Are you kidding me?
If your friends ridicule you, find new friends, but make sure they’re all soft and sensitive and smell like flowers. If you get bullied at school, tell the teacher: that works wonders, and teaches you how to stand up for yourself. Wow.
NATE: In fact, if you are going to play a deck that you think is cool, you shouldn’t be afraid even if they do ridicule you.
SPANIEL: Okay, but if you end up 1-5 at a PTQ because you played a deck that you thought was cool, you need to change your mind frame. PTQs are relatively expensive tournaments with high quality players who will practically beg to play against dead money. FNM, on the other hand, is full of players like you, the entry fee is rather cheap, and the prizes are minimal. Play to win the game at PTQs. Play for fun at FNM.
TOUGH GUY: Thank you, Mr. Spaniel, for insulting both rogues and FNM players. I would think you would be more grateful, since you’re obviously a “high quality player” and probably pop a chub at the prospect of playing against us: the living, breathing dead weight.
By the way, I went 3-4 with a deck I thought was cool. I guess it really was cool, despite changing my mind frame. Maybe I should start going to FNM instead of PTQs, since they’re chock fulla players like me.
NATE: I can’t begin to tell you the amount of ridicule I endure for playing the decks I enjoy…
SPANIEL: It’s almost as though this comment was preemptively made at me. Anyway, I’m not attacking what you are playing, I’m attacking your methodology. And your methodology is clearly flawed in this case.
TOUGH GUY: Back in the Mafia King days, Regionals 2000 I believe, Nate wrote an article discussing the deck. Within a day or two, both Alex Shvarstman and Zvi wrote their own pieces, on the same site no less, basically stating that the deck was a turd. He ended up 6-2 that year, as opposed to the hundreds of net deckers who did, well, gee, much worse than that, and I can only assume this ridicule was enough to lead him to find new friends and change his mind frame. Apparently, it didn’t, if Nate did indeed win a later Regionals with Da’ Ring in his deck.
Here’s a funny thing:
Dear William,
Your methodology is flawed. Prove me wrong.
Love,
Right Boy
It’s funny because neither can prove nor disprove the other’s means, procedures and techniques. Agree or disagree, but their opinions are just those: opinions.
NATE: …but I also can’t describe to you the satisfaction of when the deck works and I smash everyone’s face in. That look that Eugene Harvey gives you is priceless.
SPANIEL: Okay, fine, Eugene Harvey will give you a look. And then reality will hit and you will be back to 1-5. That look may be priceless, but by playing that creation of yours that you know is an inferior deck, you have thrown away $25, cash for lunch, gas money, cash for the cards you are playing, and any hope at winning some boxes. That “priceless” look is beginning to look pretty worthless in comparison.
TOUGH GUY: Will you ever understand that Nate, nor I, know our creations are inferior decks? You think they are, that doesn’t make it true, and even it does, we don’t willingly hand our balls and a knife (in the form of a bad deck and imminent loss) to the opponent. But feel free to put a cash value on something that means absolutely nothing to you.
What if you, yes you, William, play a net deck and go 0-2 drop. Gee, didn’t you just waste $25, cash for lunch, gas money, cash for the cards you are playing, and any hope at winning some boxes?
Hey, we ended up at the exact same spot, but somehow the cost the PTQ extolled on me is much higher because I played my own deck. Aren’t you doing what you accuse rogues of doing: getting on the high horse and falling victim to the “romanticism?”
If Nate or I have a bad tourney, it’s because we’re stupid rogues. But if you do, well… I don’t see why you would ever have a bad tourney, since you always play the best deck. Not to bitch about your methodology, or anything.
By the way, Eugene never gave me that look. Lucky bastard… [Did he give you the karate kick? That was uber-cool as well. – Knut, who misses Eugenius]
NATE: Sometimes drumming to your own beat is the answer. If you haven’t been having a lot of success with the old standby, why not enjoy your time playing?
SPANIEL: Alright, enjoy your time playing. Just don’t bother throwing money away by playing at a PTQ with a bad deck.
TOUGH GUY: I’ll enjoy my time playing, but I won’t throw my money away by playing at a PTQ with a bad deck, thanks for the concern. Of course, that “bad deck” thing is subject to opinion, much like “drumming to your own beat.”
NATE: Play something that you always wanted to play but never dared to. You never know, it might turn out spectacular.
SPANIEL: Funny thing, you might actually know if you playtested.
TOUGH GUY: Because playtesting dear readers is all that matters in life every single breath you take if you playtest the results are guaranteed to happen and if you play the best deck you cannot lose ever never ever ever and nothing that you could not have anticipated could possibly happen at the tourney because you covered every conceivable scenario in playtesting so why bother going to the ptq why doesn’t wizards just mail you a check so you can stay home and watch poker all day.
SPANIEL: So what have we learned today? Playtesting is good, and PTQs are for serious competition. Follow those two rules, and you are instantly a better player.
TOUGH GUY: I agree on both points: playtesting: good, PTQs: serious. Um, but what did any of the above have to do with either?
What have we really learned? Well, Nathan David Lenny Frederick Peter Heiss was a rogue who met with some success during a long career. He dug deep beyond the obvious surface of what the cards were intended to do, combined them in ways few others had considered (sometimes for good reason), and took his lumps and his victories like a man.
He must have done something right, or at least cleaned up that dirty roguish aura, because now he works for Wizards’ R&D, attempting, I assume, to look at cards and interactions in ways that few of the playtesters, developers and designers can, in an effort to avoid non-intuitive combinations and situations that could slip though the radar and potentially harm future environments or result in bannings. He puts on his Nate Colored Glasses, gets busy, and paid. Not too bad for a philosophical scrub.
On the other hand, if William Spaniel worked for Wizards’ R&D…. Wait, he couldn’t, since they work on future sets, and the best decks of next year have yet to be established, meaning, the only value he could add would be as “current format playtester,” which would be a cozy position to be sure. He wouldn’t have to create, think, or question anything; he could simply play the gauntlet against himself over and over every freakin’ day, eight hours per day, until the formats changed and a new gauntlet was shaped.
Alas, he might be right: play the deck that gives you the best chance to win. If this philosophy works for him, then he gets to be correct. It doesn’t necessarily work for me, so I must conclude that, even though he is right regarding his own decisions, he’s incorrect about mine: “my body, my choice,” or some other catchy slogan like that. Thus:
Big ups due, and keep doing what you’re doing, even though you’re oh so very wrong about this, mostly, pretty much, in my opinion. Still, I look forward to the day when we meet at table one in the last round, and face off, man to man, reputations on the line, and find out, once and for all, which of us is really correct…
When we intentionally draw.
John Friggin’ Rizzo