Beyond the Norm: Vegas Magic – Part I

By the time that this article makes it to print, there’s a good chance that I’ll be shackled to cement blocks at the bottom of a river. I might also be lost to the endless sands of Nevada, six feet under in an unmarked grave. Or I could be eating tacos; I’ve always been a sucker for tacos. Point is, after the weekend I had at GP Vegas – the real GP Vegas, not the sham that was broadcast for all you sheeple – there’s really no telling what my future holds. Could be death, could be tacos, could be death by tacos. I tell you this so that you might appreciate the considerable risk I’m taking to bring you this story. Definitely worth a like, an upvote, maybe even a share. No pressure, just think about it.

My preparations for Vegas started out like those for any other GP. On the weekend before, I drew out a schedule to grind leagues on the chat software that was repurposed to run an online game, also known as MTGO. I then ignored said schedule to hang out with friends, watch Netflix, clip my toenails… you know… important stuff. In the end, I felt more than ready to crush the nearly 3,000 other people who had shown up, many of whom had actually played their deck before. But hey, how hard could KCI really be?

I then went through the usual rituals of a trip to a GP. Security stopped me, convinced that my deckboxes were explosives (it didn’t help when I started pointing out the bombs in the draft deck they were looking through). I boarded the airplane and scanned the seats from the front, quickly counting up how many Magic players were on the plane, by looking for the key characteristics: bulky backpack, shorts and a t-shirt, and not eating vegetables. Whenever I’m not sure, I just shout, “Unban Twin!” and the ensuing frenzy quickly reveals who is a Magic player and who is not.

The flight was pretty typical. One guy fed his baby some whiskey to get them to shut up (Everyone applauded. Happy Father’s Day!), the person to my left kept farting and hoped the air conditioning would hide it (it didn’t), and the sandwich I ordered tasted like a sandwich about as much as MTGO is a functioning piece of software. Views of the civilized world out the window gave way to desert, eventually revealing the jewel it contains: Las Vegas. It was exciting to know that I was one of thousands of Magic players and enthusiasts descending upon the city to celebrate the greatest game in the world in the greatest… er…  desert… in the United States.

The taxi shuttled me through the bright lights and glitz of Las Vegas, with my cab driver acting as an unofficial tour guide.

“And that,” he said pointing, “is one of the hottest clubs in the city. You definitely want to check it out before you leave.”

“I see,” I replied. “I probably won’t have time though.”

“Why’s that?” he asked. “Already got plans? You a big casino guy? You know, if you’re into casinos, the one right over here is—”

“No, I’m actually in Vegas for a card tournament,” I explained.

“Ahhh, a gambler! Gonna win lots of money off poker, eh?” he said, winking at me. 

“No, it’s actually… um… have you heard of Magic?”

The cab driver paused thoughtfully, then began speaking in a hushed voice.

“Is that the poker variant with the cocaine and the—”

“No! God, no!” I interrupted. “It’s a trading card game.”

“Like… like pokeemans?” he asked, clearly disappointed.

“Um… it’s a cross between like… chess and poker,” I explained.

“Chess? In card form? With pokeemans? Wait, why are you in Vegas again?”

I’ve been to many GP’s in my day, so I was practiced in explaining Magic to uninitiated cab drivers, but the Vegas driver seemed, understandably, particularly incredulous. Eventually, we reached my hotel and he dropped me off.

“I hope you open many Black Lotuses, and that you find your friend Teferi so that you can whirl chains together!” the cab driver said cheerfully.

I waved as he drove off, then turned my attention to the hotel. Already, you could see the hordes of Magic players filling the lobby. A couple of last-minute playtests on a spare table. Players with bulky backpacks passing the time at the slot machines. Reid Duke and Huey engaged in quiet conversation in a corner while Owen ran the streets outside. Curious as to just how many Magic players there were, I moved to the center of the lobby, cleared my throat, and shouted, “UNBAN TWIN!”

Never in my life have I received such an outburst of raw emotion. Raucous applause as though I were in New England, and the Patriots had just won the Super Bowl. Angry, passionate boos as though I were in anywhere but New England, and the Patriots had just won the Super Bowl. And, of course, there were several non-Magic players there who were confused, as though they were Magic players who had just been told that the Patriots had won the Super Bowl. A couple of fights broke out, and I drank it all in.

The highs in Vegas are quite dramatic. Unfortunately, I was also about to learn just how low the lows could be.

...

Without any byes, I had to get up bright and early to get to the convention center on time. Luckily, my hotel was close to the venue, so I only had to venture outside for a couple minutes. It was around 85 degrees, still cool compared to Vegas noon.

My first round was nothing special. I got paired against a guy from the Midwest who had never been to a GP before. He was playing Monoblack Zombies, which basically meant that I had a Round 1 bye.

“Welcome to competitive Magic,” I said, shaking his hand after Turn 3 killing him both games with a bunch of cards he had never seen before.

Modern; where you die on Turn 3 to a bunch of cards that you’ve never seen before.

Afterward, I wandered around the venue, eyeing the Beta Draft Qualifiers. Man, I thought. How cool would it be to draft Beta?

Round 2 took a long time to go up, much longer than the usual ~15 minutes. People around me had varying theories.

“This is what happens when you give Channel Fireball a monopoly on events,” lamented one man with a monocle sipping tea. “It’s basically socialism. Let the free market work. Hashtag capitalism, man.”

“It’s the infrastructure that’s broken,” complained a woman with an MIT t-shirt. “The fundamental problem is Wizards’ software. Until we address the root causes of the unrest instead of the symptoms, nothing can be done. It’s not CFB’s fault, it’s WOTC’s.”

“It’s Mark Rosewater’s fault! And WOTC’s constant pandering to the social justice warriors!” cried one wild-eyed running in a panic through the venue. “AETHERWORKS MARVEL WAS AN INSIDE JOB!!!”

After (a very long) 45 minutes, Round 2 pairings were posted. But something was still not quite right. I watched the judges closely and, after posting the pairings, they congregated uneasily in groups, whispering and exchanging nervous glances. I didn’t have time to try to get closer to listen in, as I had a match to win.

My next opponent was already seated. He had already pulled out his Game Day Fate Reforged playmat and was shuffling his deck. I sat down and unrolled my favorite Rick and Morty playmat. My opponent snorted.

“You a Rick and Morty fan?” I asked, smiling.

“Hell no,” he said. “I don’t have time for that kind of nonsense. I’m too busy crushing leagues and…” he waved his hand at his playmat “…winning Game Days.”

“Cool,” I replied. I played a Turn 1 Darksteel Citadel, an Opal, and a Chromatic Star. My opponent snorted again. I looked up at him expectantly. Upon noticing my gaze, he rolled his eyes.

“I just don’t understand why anyone plays anything other than Humans,” he explained, exasperated, as though to a five-year-old. “It’s just the best deck, and you’d be a complete idiot to do otherwise.”

I beat him in two quick games after he named the wrong card with Meddling Mage, messed up the trick where you Vial in a second Lieutenant in response to the trigger of the first, and tried to play a Vial on Turn 1 off an Ancient Ziggurat.

“What a lucksack!” he cried loudly, throwing his deck into his backpack. “I hate losing to terrible players!”

“Me too,” I answered as I signed the match slip. I then put on sunglasses as I said, “That’s why I don’t.”

I walked away, never looking back at the explosion of rage behind me. Then I took off the sunglasses because it was really hard to see.

As I turned in my slip, I became aware of a flurry of activity at the judges’ station. While they were putting on calm faces, I heard some terrifying words float through my earholes. Words like “Wizards Event Reporter is completely down,” “the entire event has vanished from the software,” and “Mark Rosewater just drank a 6-pack of Monster Energy Drink.”

As the round ended and the timer ticked past an hour, the unrest began to spread. I again wandered over the Beta Qualifiers and watched some of the players for a bit. After a while, someone nudged me.

I turned to face none other than Luis Scott-Vargas, dressed in his announcer attire, smiling amusedly at me.

“You’ve been over here a couple of times today, just standing for a really long time,” he said. “Are you Beta testing those sneakers or something?”

“LSV!” I gasped. “No… I… I would just love to play in one of the qualifiers, but I’m playing in the main event.”

LSV chuckled.

“Son, you’re in Vegas,” he said. “There are bigger things happening here than the main event or a Beta Qualifier.”

“I… what? What do you mean?” I asked.

LSV looked around surreptitiously. He reached into his pocket, grabbed something, and extended his hand. I grabbed a small, black business card from it.

 “When the main event goes to hell,” LSV replied.

I looked down at the card. It read:

You’re Invited! :D

What: GP Vegas 2 - Electric Boogaloo

Where: B24

When: After the Main Event falls

Buy-In: $10,000

“What… what is this?” I asked.

“We wanted to plan something special for GP Vegas. Something where the stakes are real, not where the 65^th place competitor gets a measly $250 in a 3,000-person event. Interested?” LSV looked at me intensely, which is pretty dang intense.

“This… this looks a little sketchy,” I stammered. “I think I’m gonna stick with the main event.”

LSV chuckled.

“Don’t you understand? There’s not going to be a main event for much longer.” LSV turned and began to walk away, but paused.

“When you change your mind, B24 is in the basement. We could use a couple more KCI players anyhow.” He glanced over his shoulder and smiled slyly. “I’ll see you there.”

A group of people walked by, and when they had passed, LSV was gone.

I gasped. How did he know?

I never told LSV that I was playing KCI.

My hair stood on end as goosebumps erupted on my arm and chills racked my spine. What was going on? The main event would fall? A secret underground (literally) Magic event? Some kind of plot by the pros to instigate all of this?

My train of thought was broken as I heard a loud crash to my right. I spun around and saw a mob of angry players flip an entire row of tables to the ground. Judges ran toward the mob, whipping out their DQ guns, booting players from the tournament left and right. I shook my head in amazement. Was LSV right? Was the main event going to fall apart?

As the two hour mark came and went, player agitation only increased. Everyone was on edge.

Then, the air conditioning went off. The final straw had been broken.

Collectively, acting as one superorganism, players roared. Tables were flipped, vendors were looted, and an explosion ignited a blazing inferno in one corner of the hall. Judges put on actual riot gear, grabbed actual batons, and began racing through the crowd, beating down anyone who stood in their way.

I looked around the room, trying desperately to find any familiar faces in the chaos. Nothing. In fact… there were no faces that were even vaguely familiar. The pros were gone. I lifted the card LSV had given me to my face again.

B24.

I turned to the hall’s entrance, and my heart sank. Judges had begun to lock down entrances and exits. Marshall Sutcliffe stood on a podium, barking orders to his new soldiers. Martial law had been declared. In fact, Marshall was the law.

I did the only thing I knew how to do. I climbed onto Marshall’s table, grabbed his microphone, and screamed into it:

“UNBAN TWIN!!!”

If it was chaos before, what came next was apocalyptic. The crowd of players began attacking each other, tearing other players apart with their bare hands. It was not pretty.

In the confusion, I barreled past the judges guarding the entrance; I would not die here.

I looked down again at the small black card. B24.

It was time to see what GP Vegas 2 had to offer.

--To Be Continued--

Check back for the exciting conclusion on Friday, June 22!

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).