First off: RIP, Nerea in Rotation. You and Ravening Corruption are the reasons I started playing Bloodcraft.
I recently learned about the Shadowverse Open, a series of eSports events run by Cygames to professionally support their digital card game. I just sort of figured the tournaments available were either Japan-only or at awful hours for trying to play a strategy game in North American time zones. Now that I know they exist, I’m on the grind. The goal is to get Grandmaster by the end of this season. If I manage that, I’ll be much more open to joining competitive events. It reminds me of the days where I was constantly researching and playing Magic in a way that I haven’t felt since around 2017.
My deck of choice tonight has been a variant of Mono Bloodcraft that I found on Shadowverse Wins. It’s definitely not the best deck in the format – it has a very strong weakness to the popular and efficient Rally Sword – but it seems to play well into the current Tier 1 triumvirate of Belphomet Portal, Last Words Shadow, and Evo Rune. I’m probably going to run Mono in the current Grand Prix event. Ironically, if the deck does well, I’ll be rewarded with card sleeves featuring Mono’s art.
To ‘git gud’ at this game, though, I have to get over a big mental hurdle. Thanks to years of the variance and confirmation bias inherent to card games, I’ve become convinced that I can only succeed on freshly built decks. It’s pure superstition. On a level, I understand that. But there were entire seasons of play where I’d switch decks or archetypes every couple of days. For whatever reason, after a little while, every deck I’d play felt like it ‘lost the spark,’ and I’d be on losing streaks with a list that I’d previously crushed a Friday Night Magic with. Could my opponents have simply adapted to my strategy? Could variance have led to a series of games where things just didn’t come together? Could my ADD-addled brain constantly have been pushing me toward novelty, causing me to make bad plays from boredom? Yes to all three. Absolutely. But even acknowledging that, whenever I start losing on a deck in Shadowverse, it becomes hard not to justify switching things up, rather that just riding the wave and learning from the losses. I’m not the only one who carries these sort of superstitions; ideas about constantly drawing one-of cards in 60-card decks are common. The opposite, never drawing cars you run the maximum amount of, was a common corollary.
Tabletop RPG players carry superstitions about their play, too. Many of these superstitions revolve around dice. Players will often have rules for themselves about how to roll the dice, where on the table to roll the dice, or even what to roll the dice on. Players often own multiple sets, believing that one set is more lucky, unlucky, or fair than another. While this can be true, almost all dice for casual RPG play are fair enough. Dice jail for singular dice that have rolled low multiple times is something you’ll occasionally see, though admittedly less than just switching dice sets for the session.
Tonight, in the weekly game of Starfinder I’m playing, dice superstition was a common topic. One of our Vesk Soldiers was lauded for his lucky rolls over the last sessions. The players that lauded him then admonished themselves for acknowledging the lucky streak when one of his next rolls was a 1. I’ve watched players switch dice sets after a few bad rolls. The GM and I make sure to not roll onto our character sheet, as a mutual friend of ours was always vehement about the practice being unlucky. The rule just sort of stuck with us. We acknowledge the silliness of it, but we still don’t roll on the paper. It’s the same duality that keeps people from walking under ladders. It’s the strange cognitive dissonance that keeps a higher percentage of black cats unadopted, even though they’re just cats. It’s the primal part of our brain that keeps people from walking on sidewalk cracks, even though there’s a decent chance your mom’s back just broke because she’s trying to lift heavy things without you.
Gamer superstition is an interesting phenomenon. I’m hoping by acknowledging it more, I can convince myself to stick with a deck long enough to get through the bad games and actually learn matchups beyond a superficial assumption. For now, I’ve got about 9000 points to Grandmaster, and some sweet sleeves to strive for.
Until next time, may you be able to break the strange habits you’ve convinced yourself of.
