Tag: magic the gathering

The Similarities of Playing Magic: The Gathering and Writing Fiction

I’m sure you’ve heard of writing. Question is, have you ever heard of Magic: The Gathering?

Magic is the world’s most popular trading card game (and also its first). Created in 1993 by doctoral student Richard Garfield, the game has millions of players all over the world. Players bring customized decks to the table and battle their cards against one or more opponents.

I like Magic. And I like writing fiction. And the more I do both, the more I realize how similar the two activities truly are. They both feature…

Endless Decision Making

When playing Magic or writing fiction, the player/author makes numerous decisions. In Magic, players start with seven cards in hand, then draw a random one from the top of their deck each turn. As a Magic player, every turn presents new decisions to be made, chiefly which of your cards you should play, and in what order. Your opponent’s decisions will further influence your own.

In writing, your only opponents are time, procrastination, and the occasional cup of coffee spilling on your keyboard. Still, there are plenty of decisions to make, probably even more than when playing Magic. For example: What are your characters going to look and act like? How does the setting influence them? What adjectives should you use to describe your protagonist? What’s your protagonist’s cat’s name (very important)?

Decisions, decisions. In both Magic and writing, they’re everywhere.

Contextual Factors

This is one of the coolest aspects of both Magic and writing: individual components change value based on what’s around them. Let’s start with Magic.

Let’s pretend that Magic cards are game pieces. The power level of pieces in most games are flat and predictable: a pawn advances at most two spaces at a time, and a queen moves as many spaces as she wants in any direction. In no game of chess has a pawn ever been more powerful than a queen.

Magic is a great game (the greatest, in my opinion) because its pieces vary in power level depending on what’s around them. For example, goblins appear frequently in Magic. In some decks, they might be annoying little attackers that don’t contribute very much to the game. However, in decks where they’re surrounded by more goblins, they might suddenly become a lot more powerful.

Everything’s contextual in writing, too! Take genre, for instance. If an author writes a novel about zombies, that author had better be aware of all the other zombie stories that have come before, after, and simultaneously. An author might write the best zombie story ever—yet if it comes out in the same year as ten other really bad zombie stories, it could easily lose value for the audience.

So Many Goddamn Rules

Magic and writing have a heck of a lot of rules. Let’s start with Magic.

In Magic, players strive to bend the rules in ways that are either competitively advantageous or just plain cool. No, this does not mean cheating (though that was certainly an issue in the game’s infancy). It means that players seek ways to combine cards in new ways for amazing results.

For example, consider the cost of cards. Magic is essentially a resource management game: players are allowed to play one land card per turn, and these land cards allow them to play their other cards. The game is designed so that, generally speaking, more powerful cards require more land cards to play. If players can find ways to play expensive cards sooner than usual, they can expect good results.

In writing, there are also tons of rules. Grammar, for instance, dictates how you express your ideas on the page. Then there are the rules of storytelling, which almost always come up when writing fiction.

Of course, as is the case with Magic, the fun part of writing is learning the rules, then breaking them. Fiction usually isn’t that interesting when it follows the template you expect it to follow; it’s often more compelling when the story diverges from established norms.

These are two of my all-time favorite subjects, so I’d better stop myself before I start rambling (if I haven’t already). If you like Magic, you might like writing fiction. If you like writing fiction, you might like Magic. Try ’em both!


Kyle A. Massa is a speculative fiction author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife and their two cats. He has written two books and numerous short stories, both published and yet-to-be published. He enjoys unusual narrative structures, multiple POVs, and stories about coffee.

What is the Claw Machine Doing with My Luck?

You’ve probably heard of the phrase “your luck has run out.” Sounds like something a Saturday morning cartoon hero might say to her greatest nemesis just before securing victory.

But sometimes I wonder if there’s really something to that phrase. Could luck be a finite resource, like coal or petroleum or Magic: The Gathering trading cards?

I don’t have any real evidence for this claim other than those days when you’re lucky enough to wake up on time despite your alarm malfunctioning, yet unlucky enough to hit a huge traffic jam and end up late for work anyway. In those moments, it feels like you were only given one token of luck, and you spent it on the alarm clock.

All this is why I fear the claw machine at arcades.

Let me explain. I have tremendous luck with the claw machine at arcades. The one where you press a red button on the end of a joystick to make a four-pronged silver claw descend into a sea of plush toys. It’s that machine that you quietly curse when it drops the toy you so carefully plucked, almost as if it was on purpose.

I’ve won the claw game three times in my life, which I consider the equivalent of hurling a basketball from the opposite side of the court with my eyes closed while balanced on a unicycle and draining it. And I don’t consider this bragging because, like hurling a basketball with eyes closed while balanced on a unicycle and draining it, the claw machine has nothing to do with skill. It’s just sheer dumb luck.

(By the way, what is dumb luck? If there’s such a thing as dumb luck, does that mean there’s also such a thing as smart luck, or straight-Bs-but-tries-really-hard luck?)

Anyway, I wonder if I’m wasting all my luck, dumb or otherwise, on the claw machine. What if I never played the claw machine, never won that dalmatian with the fireman helmet or the mini Chicago Bulls basketball or the orca whale, and instead put that luck toward something that’s actually useful, like a lottery ticket?

And that’s maybe the worst part of luck. You can’t know when you’re using it, or how much you’re using, or whether or not it’s about to run out.

Back to that “your luck has run out” phrase. It’s usually followed by some misfortune directed at one person or another, like death or something. Which is funny, because I don’t think dying is unlucky. You wouldn’t have to be lucky to win the lottery if everybody won the lottery, right?

Then again, could luck just be an explanation for the unexplainable? I mean, if you’re unfortunate enough to find yourself in class on the day you didn’t do the reading, and then, out of the entire lecture hall of a hundred or so students, your professor chooses you to answer her question, how would you explain that.

Just bad luck, I guess.

Likewise, if you win the lottery, beating out all the thousands of other entrants whose numbers might be a digit or two away from yours, how can you explain that?

Must be good luck (or smart luck?).

So do I really even believe in this thing called luck? I guess not. It probably isn’t this intangible that we all use every day, and that can run out at any moment. It’s more likely that it’s just the word we use to describe the unlikely, or the nearly impossible. Really, luck is probably nothing more than a word, right?

Still, just to be safe, maybe I’ll stay away from the claw machines.

© 2024 Kyle A. Massa

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑