Beyond the Norm: Vegas Magic – Part II

Beyond the Norm is a satirical series and does not reflect the thoughts or opinions of flipsidegaming.com. It is all meant in good fun and hopefully you enjoy it. 

(You can find Part I here)

The Las Vegas Convention Center shook as another explosion rocked the building. I grabbed onto a handrail on the staircase, holding it more tightly than either of my parents had ever held me. Why didn’t they love me? Why didn’t they understand that, in another couple of months, I would surely have made partner on Twitch? I’d be live-streaming MTGO bugs and crashes to tens, if not hundreds, of people on the internet. Would a little bit of belief in their son kill them?

Footsteps from the floor below interrupted my usual daydreams. Someone else was on their way to the secret GP. I walked slowly to the bottom of the stairs and peeked around the corner into the hallway. We were definitely in the basement. Electricity hummed in the background, exposed pipes dripped discolored water, and the air was cool and dry. But there was one thing I knew was down here, that every basement had, that I had to find: the gamers.

I watched the shadowy figure I’d heard from the staircase take a right down another hallway. They walked purposefully, without hesitation. I was certain that they would lead me to B24, the location of GP Vegas 2. With all the stealth that someone of “profession” could muster, I slinked down the hallway, following the silhouette. This game of leonin and mouse went on for some time, deep into the bowels of the convention center. As I followed the shadow, I began to hear noise again, but not the distant rumble of heavy artillery being deployed against the players in the Main Event. No, this was… cheering? And it was coming from somewhere within the basement.

As the figure turned a final corner, the cheering reached levels that you would expect outside a football stadium. At the end of the hallway was a door with something written on the front. As the person I’d been following opened the door and light spilled out, I could make out what it said: B24.

I had found the secret GP.

I walked toward the door, pushed it open, and took my first uncertain steps inside. Stupefied, I walked through the vast hall in awe, my brain overloaded with sensory input. It was filled with everything that a GP in Las Vegas should be: pure debauchery.

At one table, I shuddered as I watched one player crew a Smuggler’s Copter with his Felidar Guardian and swing, only to have the other player activate his Aetherworks Marvel and find a Rogue Refiner. A sign overhead read: “No Banlist Standard.”

“Well, looks like I just get to spin again next turn,” the Marvel player smirked.

“Wrong,” replied the Copter player, tapping four mana for… Collected Company?!

The Marvel player dove across the table and tackled the Copter player to the ground. That was my cue to leave.

Next to them were a group of players sitting around a circular table, each with some Power 9. I paused here, thinking that a trade of some kind might be about to happen. Instead, each player pulled out mortar and pestles and ground the cards in dust. I gasped, transfixed by what I was seeing. Then… they snorted the powdered Power right up their noses. Well, all but one; one of the players instead injected it straight into a vein. The players moaned in pleasure before collapsing onto the table, unconscious.

Hurrying away, I found a Jace cosplayer strung up against a wall while people shouted at him and pelted him with whatever was lying around – small rocks, deckboxes, and tons and tons of Juuls. A banner hung over his head reading: “King of Nerds.”

“#NotMyGuildpact!” shouted one player, throwing a shoe at him.

“WOTC needs to stop printing entire sets that are nothing but different Jaces! Down with the Jacetice League!” cried another, throwing a paper airplane.

“I hate how much of myself I see in you!” sobbed another, collapsing at Jace’s feet. The player reached up and ran their hand along Jace’s stomach. “Except the abs… Why did WOTC give you abs…? I don’t have abs…” The player howled in anguish, feeling his own pudgy belly.

Past the Jace area was an enormous mechanized arena. At each end was a player atop an impractically, irrationally tall platform. In between the two of them were holograms of Magic cards.

“I cast Divination!” shouted Player 1.

“Divination?!” gasped Player 2. “What does that card do?”

Player 1 smirked. “It lets me draw two cards!”

“Oh, that’s it?” Player 2 replied, relieved. “I’ll cast Pull from Tomorrow for X=7.”

“NOOOOOOOOOO!” cried Player 1. “I’ll respond by casting Angel of Sanctions, which deals 5 points of damage to you for each card you draw beyond the first!”

“What?!” cried Player 2. “You can’t cast Angel at instant-speed! And that’s not what Angel even does!”

Player 1 laughed maniacally. “Screw the rules!” he cried. “I have two Explores!”

Player 1 pulled off his hood, revealing himself to be none other than Alex Bertoncini. He continued laughing madly as the life total display on the other side ticked to zero in increments of 5 every time Player 2 drew a card.

“No… please, no…” Player 2 begged as they fell to their knees. Then, Player 2’s life total hit zero. A dark, shadowy vortex appeared and sucked in Player 2. Even after it vanished again, the screams continued to echo.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” said a voice from behind me.

I spun around to face LSV.

“What… what is this place?!” I asked. “This is horrible!”

LSV chuckled.

“These are just the side events,” LSV explained. “For those who don’t have the guts—” He gestured to someone being disemboweled. “—to enter the main event.”

I hesitated. “And what’s the main event?”

LSV leaned in real close. His eyes shimmered with sinister glee. “It’s a chance at real fame. Real glory. Real money. Something you might be interested in…?

Instinctively, I shook my head no. But then, I stopped to think…

I thought of all the times people didn’t believe in me. Didn’t believe in my ability to play a children’s trading card game optimally. Didn’t believe in my ability to make a living off of said trading card game. Didn’t believe that rubbing Magic cards on a wound would heal it in seconds. Even though they were right not to believe in that last one, as many piles of blood-soaked draft chaff in my bedroom’s garbage can prove, this was still my chance to prove that I could hang with the greatest.

“Suppose I’m interested,” I said. “What is it? How do I enter?”

LSV smiled, baring his teeth. “The buy-in is $10,000.”

“What?!” I cried. “That was for real?”

“People want real prizes, and we’re giving it to them… but at real cost,” LSV explained. “The stakes have never been higher, but neither have the rewards.”

“I don’t have that kind of…” I paused, thinking back to the college fund was gathering dust as I pursued an undoubtedly bright future streaming to seven viewers on Twitch. “Is there an ATM in this place?”

LSV pointed. “Right between the junkies who can’t afford Power 9—” A group of people sat clustered around a table, ferally tearing open booster packs, sniffing hard, then tossing them aside and repeating. “—and the fingerpainting.” A group of children painted brightly colored blobs on sheets of paper hanging around the walls. I shot LSV a quizzical look.

He shrugged. “Gotta have something for the kids.”

I felt a thrill of horror and excitement pass through my body as I handed over the $10,000 that my parents had saved up for me to attend school to a twitchy, toothless man who stank of Power 9. I was officially a competitor in the main event of GP Vegas 2.

What the main event of GP Vegas 2 consisted of, however, was still a bit murky. I asked one guy who was standing by himself what he knew about it.

“Ah, yeah, you playin’? Tha’s cool, tha’s cool. Yeah, I heard i’s gonna be real vicious, last man standing, all that,” he said, scratching himself aggressively as his eyes darted around.

“That’s… not super helpful,” I replied. “Aren’t all tournaments last-person-standing?”

“Nah, you don’t get it,” he answered. “This tournament is different. Literally the last person standing, bro. Like… I don’t think everyone is leaving here alive. Or with legs. Or maybe they just get tired and have to sit after. Not sure. Hey, you got any Power 9, man? I don’t need a Lotus, just a little hit of a Mox maybe, or even just a Timetwister…”

I wandered away from the unhelpful man and looked around for LSV. Before I could track him down for information, a booming voice blasted from the room’s sound system.

“Pairings for Round 1 have been posted,” the voice declared.

I found my name on the pairings board and reported to my seat, which was on the other side of the room. As I took a bit longer to get there, I looked over the seating arrangements. Instead of rows, there were rectangular tables, with eight players to a table. Was this a draft? Also strange, every table had four pros and four non-pros. The pros were seated next to each other on one side and the non-pros on the other. I eventually found my table, took my seat, and the voice returned to the loudspeakers.

“Today, you will be drafting a new set. This is a set that was designed by a vocal group of people who believe that WOTC is terrible at designing cards and literally anyone could do the job better. There was also some contribution from our pro community. Speaking of which, you will be playing the person across from you at the table. This tournament is single elimination. There are 128 players, and prize support will extend down to 64^th place. Best of luck, you may begin!”

I looked around; at every table, the pros were leering and laughing. In the first round of this event, no pros would play each other – it was a setup. There was a prize pool of $1,280,000, and all of it was going to the pros. My heart beat quickly. No. I could do it. I looked across from me. Eli Kassis, he would never pass up a money draft but I could beat him. I opened my pack of cards, and my heart sank. The subtheme of the set was “Pro Points matter.”

My first pack had cards that included:

Giant Prowth

G

Instant

Until end of turn, target creature gets +X/+X, where X is the number of Pro Points its controller has.

--

Storm Pro

1U

Creature – Bird

1/2

Flying

Storm Pro may only be cast if you have at least 1 Pro Point.

--

Anointed Procession

3W

Enchantment

If an effect would create one or more tokens under your control, it creates X times that many tokens instead, where X is the number of Pro Points you have.

--

It also had cards designed by the people who were convinced that they were better designers than WOTC, such as:

We Should Keyword Everything

1U

Instant

For each spell on the stack, Polymerate 1. Then, for each time that you’ve Holidabbed this turn, Ennumerate. If the number of flimflams you control is greater than the number of shindigs your opponents control, counter target spell.

Then, Mill 5.

--

Kamigawa was the Best

WUBRG

Enchantment

Each creature you control has Soulshift X, where X is that creature’s converted mana cost.

Creature spells in your hand have Ninjitsu XU, where X is that creature’s converted mana cost.

Whenever you cast an Arcane spell, you may Splice a spell from your hand onto it without paying its Splice cost.

Moonfolk, Spirits, Foxes, Rats, Snakes, Ogres, Zuberas, Wizards, and Samurai you control get +1/+1 and have Bushido 1.

--

Urza, Five-Color Poopyhead

1WUBRG

Planeswalker – Urza

6

+1: Create a colorless Technology artifact token with, “Sacrifice Relic: Destroy something that could arguably be Phyrexian.”

0: Urza becomes a 6/6 Human Terrible Person with indestructible and “Prevent all damage that would be dealt to Urza” until end of turn.

-1: Blow up the world. Blame it on someone else. Probably Yawgmoth.

-12: Gain 3 life or prevent the next 3 damage that would be dealt to target creature or player this turn, draw three cards, add BBB, deal 3 damage to any target, and target creature gets +3/+3 until end of turn.

If Urza would be put into the graveyard from the battlefield, instead transform Urza.

\\

Urza’s PoopyHead, Planeswalkerluggage

+1: Worship Yawgmoth.

-1: Blow up the world (including Urza).

--

Purple Power

P

Sorcery

Yes, this card is purple. We’ve done it, just for the sake of doing it instead of for a compelling reason! A sixth color!

Oh, you wanted this card to do something?

Um. Draw a card. #innovation

--

Suffice to say, I did not feel good about the draft. Until…

A tap on my shoulder.

“Good luck,” a familiar voice whispered in my ear. I smelled Power 9 on his breath, and something dropped into my lap. LSV? I wrapped my hands around it; it was some kind of note. I couldn’t read it without being obvious, so I focused on the draft. I ended up with a pretty mediocre deck that used Dredge and Storm to power out Ante cards, all of which had Bands with Others. Even so, my complete lack of pro points rendered my deck powerless compared to others’.

As the non-pros built their decks quietly, the pros slapped each other on the backs, having a grand old time, convinced they were about to make a lot of money. Without drawing attention to myself, I examined the note that LSV (presumably) had dropped into my lap. It read:

“Some people just like to watch the world burn. Use this, then drop after the draft.”

Beneath that was a shrunken-down printout of my planeswalker points page, showing… what? That was impossible. According to my page, I had enough pro points to be a platinum pro. I looked through my deck again.

It had just gotten a whole lot easier to win.

In round 1, everyone was issued a badge with their Pro Point tally indicated. Sure enough, I had enough to get me into Platinum range. The boost provided by LSV’s hack allowed me to easily dispatch first Eli Kassis and then Martin Juza, both of whom angrily left, returning to play in the main event of GP Vegas 1 upstairs. My final opponent in the draft was Matt Nass, with fewer than 50 pro points to my 70. Needless to say, my Giant Prowths were a little bit better than his. Matt Nass slunk away to play with his cute little artifacts upstairs, while the big boys played with piles of cash downstairs.

Having 3-0’ed my draft pod, I was locked for tens of thousands of dollars. This is where LSV had told me to drop. Why would he tell me to drop? My heart thudded as the answer became obvious: he didn’t believe in me either. At this point, I was furious. First, I realize that the pro community is trying to scam me, then I find out that LSV doesn’t think I, a random Magic player with TWO GP Day 2’s, can hang with the best in the game. I wanted them to suffer. I wanted them all to suffer. I wanted to take from them what they had tried to take from me: money. All of it.

So I played on.

I got paired against Efro next, who told me that I should concede to him because he was a real pro. I had a hard time believing that after I left him in a pool of his own tears. Scrub.

By the time I’d made it to the finals, there were whispers among the pros. Suspicion. Who was this guy? How did he get all these Pro Points? How did we accidentally rig this tournament against ourselves, so that this mediocre player with a ton of Pro Points was able to defeat all of us?

I began playing more quickly as I noticed a small group focused intently on a computer, sending suspicious glances at me at a higher rate than MTGO crashes. By the time I won, the group was walking very quickly toward us.

“Well,” I said to my opponent, Reid Duke, “that was a great match. Better luck next time!” He smiled politely at me as I scooped the $500,000 that was piled on the table next to ours into my backpack.

“STOP HIM!” cried one of the pros from the group on the computer. “He’s a cheat! As hard as it is to believe, someone was able to penetrate Wizards’ powerful internet security and edit their pro points!”

Gasps of disbelief went up around the room.

“Wizards got hacked?! How?”

“But they’re so good at technology and software!”

“Do you think it was a six-year-old who hacked them? Could it have been a five-year-old?!”

I sprinted for the door.

“I’m so disappointed in you!” cried Reid Duke from the table, shaking his head. Man. What a nice guy.

I had a head start, but they were gaining on me.

“UNBAN TWIN!” I cried to the crowd behind me.

“F*** YOU!” someone shouted back.

Welp, it seemed like my luck had finally run out.

As I exited the hall, somebody shoved me against the wall from the hallway. I crumpled to the ground and looked up.

“I’ll take that,” said LSV, unzipping my backpack and loading the money into his own.

“No!” I cried. “Why?!”

“I told you to drop after the draft,” LSV sighed. “I just wanted you to beat Matt Nass for me, so I could make fun of him for losing to a random n00b like you. I help the guy master KCI, and do I get a thank-you? A single mention on camera? Nope. Nothing. But then, you took down the whole tournament.”

“And that’s bad because you’re worried they’ll figure out it was you?” I asked.

LSV laughed. “Please. Wizards couldn’t find a hacker any more than they could spot an infinite Splinter-Twinesque combo in one of their Standard sets. No, you just seem easy to rob, and $500,000 is a lot of money. Though…”

LSV leaned close, letting his Power 9 breath wash over me again.

“I suppose there’s a small chance that I played on your insecurity to goad you into playing the full tournament. That I knew that telling you to drop would actually prompt you to play through and win. But the best part is that it’ll all be on you. No one will ever believe that LSV, pillar of the community, set this up. Especially…” he paused dramatically. “…when I’ve been commentating upstairs all afternoon.”

My eyes widened. “But… how? Splinter Twin?”

LSV stood. “Enjoy the rest of your life, kid. All…” he glanced at his watch. “…ten seconds of it?”

Quick footsteps, and LSV was gone.

“How…” I muttered. “How can he be in two places at once…? How did he know I was on KCI…?”

More importantly, the roar of the mob was approaching. I climbed to my feet and did the only thing I could: I ran.

It’s been two days since I got out of Vegas. I had to do some things I’m not proud of to get away, and I know they’ll never stop chasing me. I’m a threat to them; not only did I cheat them, but I won’t rest until I expose them.

The pros are everywhere, but remember: every smiling face is but one cog in the cabal of evil masterminds ready to whisk you off to a secret GP and rob you blind. They’ve infiltrated everything – it’s no coincidence that Part I of this article was removed from /r/magictcg only hours after going up. I have no doubt that this truth bomb will meet the same fate.

But most of all, beware of LSV. As I sit here writing this, covered in dirt and blood, that is the one thing you should take away. He is not what he seems. I don’t know who, or what, he really is, but beware. No human makes that many puns; it’s unnatural.

Thanks for reading, and do your best to spread the truth before this truthjournal is removed. Until next time… #UnbanTwin

Ryan Normandin is a grinder from Boston who has lost at the Pro Tour, in GP & SCG Top 8's, and to 7-year-olds at FNM. Despite being described as "not funny" by his best friend and "the worst Magic player ever" by Twitch chat, he cheerfully decided to blend his lack of talents together to write funny articles about Magic. Make fun of him online through Twitter (@RyanNormandin) and Twitch (norm_the_ryno).