Saturday, March 1, 2014
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Blow 3.0
So can we jam for a second about how awesome it is that Blow is back in standard?
Esper Humans
4 Godless Shrine
4 Hallowed Fountain
2 Mutavault
4 Plains
4 Temple of Deceit
4 Temple of Silence
3 Watery Grave
2 Ephara, God of the Polis
4 Imposing Sovereign
4 Lyev Skyknight
3 Obzedat, Ghost Council
3 Precinct Captain
4 Soldier of the Pantheon
3 Xathrid Necromancer
4 Detention Sphere
1 Far // Away
1 Hero's Downfall
1 Spear of Heliod
2 Supreme Verdict
1 Ultimate Price
2 Whip of Erebos
Sideboard:
1 Blood Baron of Vizkopa
2 Dark Betrayal
2 Doom Blade
1 Duress
2 Gainsay
1 Glare of Heresy
1 Hero's Downfall
So now you're probably thinking, what the fuck is Blow and what does it have to do with Esper Humans?
In 2003, I advocated briefly for this deck to be considered for players heading to the State Championships. The year before, during the 2002 version, a B/W Cleric deck called Blow won Iowa Champs piloted by Gabriel Stoffa. We'll get to the Iowa deck in a minute, but analyzing the list above, you'd be hard-pressed to say it's anything special. Still, testing confirmed that the deck stacked up well against Goblins, still the biggest threat at the time given that Affinity hadn't found Arcbound Ravager in a pile of darksteel yet. And Slide had little to no chance at defeating Blow 2.0, despite playing a deadly nuke against tokens in its namesake enchantment and Wind Shards backup against a Zombie horde. Nova Cleric was actually just that relevant, and you had 6 virtual copies with the Doomed Necromancers.
The list isn't perfect, but versions of it did end up performing reasonably well. A perfect example of the Blow deck took down Champs the year before I riffed on it in the article on StarCityGames.
3 City of Brass
11 Plains
1 Starlit Sanctum
2 Swamp
4 Beloved Bodyguard
4 Beloved Chaplain
4 Devoted Caretaker
4 Master Apothecary
4 Nova Cleric
4 Rotlung Reanimator
4 Weathered Wayfarer
3 Disenchant
4 Prismatic Strands
4 Shared Triump
4 Wrath of God
Sideboard:
3 Cabal Therapy
3 Oversold Cemetary
3 Ray of Revelation
4 Spurnmage Advocate
2 Worship
Holy Jesus, those were dark times for mana bases. Pray they never return. But Weathered Wayfarer made it work, eking out card advantage slower than a Jayemdae Tome, grinding the whole game to four mana, however long it took.
Esper Humans
4 Godless Shrine
4 Hallowed Fountain
2 Mutavault
4 Plains
4 Temple of Deceit
4 Temple of Silence
3 Watery Grave
2 Ephara, God of the Polis
4 Imposing Sovereign
4 Lyev Skyknight
3 Obzedat, Ghost Council
3 Precinct Captain
4 Soldier of the Pantheon
3 Xathrid Necromancer
4 Detention Sphere
1 Far // Away
1 Hero's Downfall
1 Spear of Heliod
2 Supreme Verdict
1 Ultimate Price
2 Whip of Erebos
Sideboard:
1 Blood Baron of Vizkopa
2 Dark Betrayal
2 Doom Blade
1 Duress
2 Gainsay
1 Glare of Heresy
1 Hero's Downfall
So now you're probably thinking, what the fuck is Blow and what does it have to do with Esper Humans?
We'll work backward from the present.
2 Doomed Necromancer
3 Withered Wretch
4 Weathered Wayfarer
4 Foothill Guide
3 Astral Slide
4 Wrath of God
4 Renewed Faith
1 Oblivion Stone
1 Worship
4 Secluded Steppe
4 Barren Moor
9 Plains
5 Swamp
3 Withered Wretch
4 Weathered Wayfarer
4 Foothill Guide
3 Astral Slide
4 Wrath of God
4 Renewed Faith
1 Oblivion Stone
1 Worship
4 Secluded Steppe
4 Barren Moor
9 Plains
5 Swamp
3 Holy Day
The list isn't perfect, but versions of it did end up performing reasonably well. A perfect example of the Blow deck took down Champs the year before I riffed on it in the article on StarCityGames.
3 City of Brass
11 Plains
1 Starlit Sanctum
2 Swamp
4 Beloved Bodyguard
4 Beloved Chaplain
4 Devoted Caretaker
4 Master Apothecary
4 Nova Cleric
4 Rotlung Reanimator
4 Weathered Wayfarer
3 Disenchant
4 Prismatic Strands
4 Shared Triump
4 Wrath of God
Sideboard:
3 Cabal Therapy
3 Oversold Cemetary
3 Ray of Revelation
4 Spurnmage Advocate
2 Worship
Holy Jesus, those were dark times for mana bases. Pray they never return. But Weathered Wayfarer made it work, eking out card advantage slower than a Jayemdae Tome, grinding the whole game to four mana, however long it took.
Tribal decks are automatically fun to play, and this one has the added benefit of blowing up your own creatures for profit to go along with a cartload of synergy.
Which brings us back to the new decklist and the current standard format. Esper Humans is, to be fair, not entirely in the full aggro lite-control mode that Blow was. But it provides a hell of a blueprint for building something that goes ham on the concept. Here's my take:
4 Godless Shrine
4 Hallowed Fountain
4 Watery Grave
4 Plains
3 Temple of Deceit
2 Temple of Enlightenment
2 Temple of Silence
2 Mutavault
25 Lands
That's right, another three-color deck that runs two colorless lands without a hitch. Praise based Ravnica.
Next we need our amped-up aggro package:
4 Imposing Sovereign
4 Lyev Skyknight
4 Deputy of Acquittals
1 Sin Collector
3 Precinct Captain
1 Obzedat, Ghost Council
4 Soldier of the Pantheon
4 Xanthrid Necromancer
2 Ephara, God of the Polis
27 Creatures
The game plan revolves around playing 187 creatures and running them headfirst into the opposition or wiping them away and replacing them with shambling mobs of undead. On the play, Imposing Sovereign is a virtual Time Walk, ensuring you'll always be a turn ahead even if they match you creature for creature. Skyknight, Obzedat and Sin Collector all offer extra value with Ephara in play, and Deputy of Acquittals can trigger the card-drawing celestial force during your own upkeep while guaranteeing you'll get another draw on your opponent's turn. You can tell from the creatures that this version always wants two untapped lands on turn two, which goes to explain the less-than-full-pack of Temples.
Your best start against most decks that flood the board with creatures is Soldier into Sovereign into Necromancer into Supreme Verdict. You'll have dealt eight and wiped the board, leaving you with 3 2/2s and a card to whatever they've managed to hold back defending against a perfect curve.
2 Detention Sphere
4 Supreme Verdict
1 Whip of Erebos
1 Spear of Heliod
8 Spells
Nothing too exciting here. Spear can really push an aggressive start over the top, and the Whip helps you stabilize or counterattack, especially post-Verdict. The Spheres are catch-alls that also make the unlikely possibility of an Ephara attack enter the realm of this-could-actually-happen.
Sideboard:
1 Sin Collector
3 Bile Blight
1 Hero's Downfall
1 Ultimate Price
1 Blood Baron of Vizkopa
2 Obzedat, Ghost Council
2 Thoughtseize
2 Detention Sphere
The sideboarding plan revolves around situations where your first and second onslaughts are being repelled by a control deck that can't handle grinding card advantage with Obzedat and Ephara. There's a smattering of removal suitable against rats and tokens, plus options against more monstrous threats. Whatever your needs are after board, you'll be taking out the Deputies, one or two Verdicts, the Spear, possibly the Sovereigns.
The two basic substitutions are
Against tokens or Pack Rat-style aggression:
-3 Deputy of Acquittal
-1 Spear of Heliod
-2 Ephara, God of the Polis
-1 Sin Collector
-1 Soldier of the Pantheon (on the draw)
+3 Bile Blight
+1 Hero's Downfall
+1 Ultimate Price
+2 Detention Sphere
+1 Blood Baron of Vizkopa (on the draw)
Against control you need to grind away:
-2 Supreme Verdict
-4 Imposing Sovereign
+1 Sin Collector
+2 Thoughtseize
+1 Blood Baron of Vizkopa
+2 Obzedat, Ghost Council
If you liked this roundabout trip to a new decklist, let me know. If you didn't, well, hopefully there was still something in this for you (or I'm sorry you read all the way to the end of an article you hated).
Monday, February 24, 2014
Thiefcatcher
So during one of my more ambitious phases, I started a speculative fiction set roughly fifty years in the future. Writing it, I confined myself to scenes built out organically from thin loglines. Oh yeah, and I also decided to pull a Neal Stephenson or, well, attempt neologism. I'll throw this up here, see if there's any response to it. It's damn near impossible to write, since every other word involves close to two hours of linguistic projection and entirely too much research into modern, evolving dialects. TLDR: Hard to write, assessing value.
"Thiefcatcher"
"Thiefcatcher"
Hey there. Glad you
could stop by. Hope you can stay
awhile. See, I’m a character in a pretty
damn good novel, but I want to take a break and spit a line. I’m not in this novel, I know you were
thinking about it. How biebery that’d be
if I told you my story was a pretty damn good novel. ‘Rish the thought, though, because like I
dropped before, that’s not the case. My
clanner, Kalam, he’s the main ‘tar for this raid. I’m just wearing a character tag, you
know? My real dent is as a mallspace
photographer, but I avoid it as often as I can, which is pretty often when you
friend a guy who can build bank tags faster than KFC can souse a chicken. Still, tapping stories isn’t whedon-off from
drawing them in a camera. Enough of the
exposition, time to assume the position and stop whistling.
I met Kalam like nine or ten ball-drops ago. He wasn’t lancing back then, but he had mad
rep up for fixing sad mash jobs. He
could ding your cash back after having a cavity filled by blaming it on a black
and decker. So that was his main tag,
fixing redit problems and working under the plan. But he already knew he could tank harder
eyel and maybe that meant detooing some other empire shit from happening. Here, try this out, if you line it, you might
cog it better.
-=-=-=
The hyperba was dimly lit by the
lasing screens of the oscul monitors while ‘nic industrial oozed out of the
woofers, the sound cut on the zor-edged metal screaming over the tech
pulse. Kalam was sitting slunk in his
cline, a glass of vodul tipping like a congressman on the armrest.
“You have to understand, man,
that tagging is more dangerous than you think.
It’s the future, sure, but really, I mean, have you specfic’d the idea
yet, it rezzes out harder than Clu. No
way it buffies up when you put that much information out there in the
space. If you ask me, I wish they had
never discovered it.”
-=-=-01100attemptingtranslationAttempt:!-0-=-=-Re-enterdata
“I get it, dude, You think
people are going to steal this tech—“
“No, no—not the tech, it’s
global now, free domain and bad Chinese dubs all. It’s what happens with it. Didn’t you ever watch classic whedon?”
“Nobody did.”
“Fuck off. We tag ourselves, right, and then what
happens? What if somebody gets a hold of
our tag? Or we lose it. That’s our souls, right there, floating
around and somebody else can just plug us in and take our lives.”
“Tagging isn’t like that. It’s like vr, or something. Matrix-shit.
Instant Jet-Li, just add virus-juice.”
“If you can put something in,
you can take something out,” he said, popping a slug of the vodul and spitting
it at his friend for emphasis.
-=-=-=-
Reat me
corner four if you want, but guy had high int even back then. His cha was low, ob, still wasn’t buying the
official retcon even if he couldn’t board any one with it. I was walling for him that turn but he’d
smith me later. Course, he was neep in
gibsonland and I couldn’t miller him out of it at that point. Was sure everybody was going to get
mindjacked as soon as the tory tags started up.
Ob, we didn’t, but he was right enough, when my flicker rep plussed
enough, I got farmed for the AA30 serious altlife. They did a partial, just a tweep scanback in
the art mode, but I still felt like a character in a back alley etem. Kept me off the slat for two cycles, and I’d
been straussing something fierce for three or four drops at that point.
I might
be cashmanning my princeside about trying to stay frankout during this whole
bay, but to know the story you have to ‘file the ‘tar, and ain’t nobody eyel or
gamespace that knew Kalam like I did.
Take, to scout, his first snatchback.
He was so sixty after that he built me a tag just so I could feel his
ding. But enough of my nathing, line his
side zero.
-=-=-=-
“You
gotta 404 offcloud now, cog?” the skyp tran blitzed and he delogge with the
book already clasped and sacked up. What
the fonz was wahlberg? He clicked into
the apm and felt himself supermanning along the flagpoles. His braincode was fried, the char card warped
in the socket. He ritchied it out and
tossed it into the voidclutch nearby on the mover. His bankvis screeched a warning when the
autoticket read neg in balance. A klaxed
fired overhead and he barely managed to unchip before the restraints kinged him
in. The whole mover stopped, goonied up
above the res distract and not close enough to grab the next ledge. He couldn’t cloud out to another char, and he
was strapped for teck not tank. The
swirling rotolights far below stapled his decision. He slung his sack on his back and reached for
the guideline, his left hand fumbling for a derez update to spin out the neg
skillz and toggled in some ninja. His
movements were fluid on the vid, but his hands were tweaked a bit. If he got out of this, he cursed, somebody
was definitely get bombspammed with a honey pot rezzer in the adblock. Damn right, he agreed with himself, taking a
stallonehold and bale-ing out into the night.
-=-=-=-
A Bit too Far Away
“Everything
always seems just a bit too far away,” the young man with the sideburns said,
absently scratching his chin. His
companion, a bigger man though not older, pushed back against the meat of the
airline seat he was stretched out in.
“Damn
things never work,” he muttered. He looked
over at the young man. “Your’s work?” he asked, still fumbling with the chair
controls.
“Uh,
yeah, it’s the button there. I think
maybe the problem is more internal.” He
was talking about the nature of goals.
The bigger man didn’t understand.
“You
think I’m stupid?” he grumbled. He
turned towards the young man and saw his sideburns. They were brown and short, most of the hairs
were shaved, not cut. But the ends of
them were up-turned, like Dali’s moustache.
“What?
No,” the young man pulled back a little. “You see that guy?” he gestured
towards the, “what do you call a guy stewardess?”
“Gay?”
his companion offered.
The
young man chuckled grimly, his face a forced smirk. “Whatever, he is a guy who is living his
dream.”
“Being
gay?” the bigger man said, his eyes transfixed on the sideburns.
“No,
look, I mean look, really,” the young man said, pointing at the steward busy putting on an apron embroidered with a name. The sideburns had clearly been played with,
teased by the young man’s fingertips at one time or another. But the bigger man was sure that he hadn’t
seen it happen. Maybe he didn’t realize
they made him look like he was doing his best to fly alongside the plane. The chunk that sounded as ice trickled into
little plastic cups tore his attention away.
“Would
you like a beverage, sir?” the steward asked the bigger man.
“What’s
the clear one? Vodka?” the bigger man
responded. The steward opened the Sprite
can and looked over at the younger man.
“Would you like a beverage, sir?”
“Coke,
if you have it.”
The
steward was pouring both drinks at the same time, effortlessly switching
between hands to add ice to another cup and reach into his apron to pull out a
plastic room key he used to snap open another tab. The steward was unsatisfied with the pour of
the Sprite. Back went the hand into the
apron and back again with the key card, the hiss of carbonation escaping followed. It was the movement of
a satisfied man. The steward handed the
young man the Coke first but his right hand followed only a little while after
to set the Sprite down in front of the bigger man.
“I
didn’t see you add vodka,” the bigger man said.
“And
you, would you like a beverage, ma’am?”
The
young man noted a distinct lack of vodka in his Coke. He was grateful. The bigger man sipped on his Sprite, his nose
itched as the bubbles leapt from the little cup.
“What
were you saying, about the gay guy?”
“He has
to practice a lot,” the young man said.
“Opening
cans of soda like that?” the bigger man scoffed. “I don’t think you practice that.”
But the
young man was convinced and could not be swayed. He was imagining the steward at home, pouring
endless cans of soda for his guests, never once forgetting to ask if they
wanted a beverage first, but inevitably pouring the cans even if they
declined. It happened in hotel rooms,
the young man was convinced. He probably
wore the apron, too.
“Do you
have a connection?” the bigger man asked.
“I’m on
the direct, heading home,” the young man replied.
“What
do you do?”
The
young man watched as the steward collected up the trash, the same efficient
practiced movements as he scooped up loose napkins and unwanted newspapers,
which were most of them. His phone shook on the fold out tray table. He
picked it up.
“Can I
get you a refill on that drink?” The
bigger man shook his head, handing the steward his cup.
“Yes, thank you,” the young man
said, handing the steward his plastic cup with crumpled-up napkin inside before
returning to his iPhone.
“I don’t think he wants one,”
explained the bigger man. The steward
walked away.
“Don’t want one what?” the young
man asked, setting his phone back on the tray table.
“Whatever he’s selling,” the bigger
man said. The young man’s sideburn had
been twisted. The bigger man grunted,
frustrated that he had missed it. The
matted brown hairs were spun together now, forming a point with only the short,
shaven hairs now lying down in their correct position next to his ears.
“I work in sales,” the young man
replied.
The bigger man hated salesmen. His wife had left him for a car
salesman. Those were the worst
kind. “I run a tourist business. Right now, I’m actually meeting up with a guy
who is promising me a personalized check-in app with split ad revenue.”
“I sell data,” the young man
offered. “I wish we could smoke.” He tapped his forefinger against his thigh,
which bounced as his foot rapped against the carpet.
The bigger man fingered the packet
of cigarettes in his breast pocket. Smoking
would be nice. They could smoke at the
airport, but by then, both would be eager to be getting on to their next
thing. It was always the airport you
were flying into, never the one you were flying out from.
The stewards slick voice informed
them that the pilot had turned on the fasten seat-belt sign. The voice was a cross between Jimmy Stewart
and the lady voice that every customer service department used to try and
dissuade people from actually bothering to make a complaint.
“Who do you like this year at the
Masters?” The bigger man asked.
“I don’t follow golf.”
The bigger man nodded in agreement. He wished he had an iPhone; the young man returned his attention to the tiny screen, intent on talking to some friend half-way across the world.
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