"The Last Room"

"The Last Room"

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD

By the time the emergency department quieted down, it was nearly two in the morning.

Not because there were fewer patients.

Only because there was finally enough space between the ambulances for everyone to breathe.

Dr. Kenji Aizawa leaned against the nurses' station, eyes closed for exactly four seconds before another resident handed him a chart.

"Last one."

He almost laughed.

"They always say that."

Seventeen hours.

Two cardiac arrests.

A child with appendicitis.

A construction worker with a shattered pelvis.

One elderly woman who had squeezed his hand after surviving surgery.

He hadn't eaten anything more substantial than convenience store bread since breakfast.

When he finally walked outside, Tokyo greeted him with humid summer air and streets that looked strangely peaceful.

As if none of the night's chaos had happened.

He checked the station timetable.

"...You've got to be kidding."

The last train had left twelve minutes ago.

Across town—

Umi Hoshino wanted nothing more than to erase every trace of makeup from her face.

Today's gravure shoot had begun before sunrise.

Three locations.

A swimsuit campaign.

An interview.

Two livestreams.

A magazine cover.

Smiling.

Laughing.

Looking energetic.

Looking glamorous.

Looking effortless.

By midnight, even lifting her camera bag felt like work.

Her manager had apologized at least ten times after the schedule overran.

"I'm so sorry, Umi..."

"It's fine."

"It isn't."

"It happens."

Now she stood in front of the empty station entrance.

The display blinked mercilessly.

Service Ended.

"...Ah."

She simply stared.

"...Right."

The last train.

Gone.

A taxi finally dropped both strangers in front of the same small business hotel.

The lobby was warm.

Comfortable.

Almost sleepy.

The elderly receptionist bowed repeatedly.

"I'm terribly sorry."

Kenji already knew what came next.

"We only have..."

The receptionist looked embarrassed.

"...one room remaining."

He sighed.

"That's fine."

Before the key appeared—

Another voice interrupted.

"...Excuse me."

Kenji turned.

A young woman wearing a baseball cap, oversized hoodie, sunglasses despite it being night, and carrying enough luggage for a small vacation.

The receptionist's smile became even more apologetic.

"I'm afraid..."

She looked between them.

"...there is only one room left."

Silence.

The receptionist swallowed.

"...One bed."

Five minutes later.

Both stood awkwardly in the elevator.

No one spoke.

Kenji looked exhausted enough to fall asleep standing.

Umi looked like she hadn't smiled sincerely in hours.

Finally—

She removed her sunglasses.

"...You won't recognize me, right?"

Kenji blinked.

"...Should I?"

She stared.

"..."

"..."

Then laughed.

It came out unexpectedly.

"...That's refreshing."

"I work too much to watch television."

"Oh."

Another pause.

"I'm Umi."

"Kenji."

"Nice to meet you."

Likewise.

The room really did only have one bed.

A queen-sized one.

Nothing fancy.

No sofa.

No spare futon.

Just enough floor space for luggage.

Kenji looked around.

"...I'll sleep on the floor."

Umi immediately shook her head.

"You'll wake up unable to move."

"I'm used to uncomfortable places."

"So am I."

Silence again.

Then—

"We're adults."

Kenji nodded.

"...True."

"We're both exhausted."

"...Very."

"I don't think either of us has enough energy to be awkward."

"...Probably not."

She smiled.

"...Let's just sleep."

Ten minutes later—

Both lay on opposite edges of the mattress.

Still fully clothed.

Blanket neatly divided.

A distance of nearly half the bed between them.

The room remained quiet.

Neither reached for their phones.

Neither had enough energy.

Eventually—

"...Doctor?"

Kenji opened one eye.

"...How did you know?"

"Your hospital ID is still around your neck."

"..."

He sighed.

"I forgot."

"You must be exhausted."

"...A little."

"You look worse than I do."

"I probably am."

She laughed softly.

"I've spent all day pretending to look beautiful."

"I've spent all day trying to keep people alive."

"..."

"..."

"I think your day wins."

"I don't know."

He looked at the ceiling.

"People think doctors are stronger than they are."

She answered quietly.

"People think idols are happier than they are."

The words settled naturally.

Without drama.

Without pity.

Just honesty.

"What do you actually do?" Kenji asked.

She hesitated.

"I'm a gravure model."

"Oh."

"...That's it?"

"I said I don't watch television."

She smiled.

"I suppose."

"My grandmother probably knows you."

"...Your grandmother?"

"She buys every magazine."

Umi burst into genuine laughter.

The first real laugh she'd had all week.

"You know..."

She stared at the ceiling.

"It's strange."

"What is?"

"I should be uncomfortable."

"Because I'm a stranger?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I'm not."

Kenji considered that.

"...Neither am I."

"Why?"

"I think..."

He searched for the words.

"...we're both too tired to pretend."

She thought about that.

He was right.

No polished smiles.

No carefully chosen words.

No flirting.

No expectations.

Just two people whose jobs demanded so much from them that tonight there was simply nothing left except honesty.

"Do people thank you?" she asked.

"Sometimes."

"Does it help?"

"...Yes."

"You deserve more."

He looked at her.

"You too."

She blinked.

"For smiling when you don't feel like it."

She stared quietly into the darkness.

"...Nobody says that."

Outside, rain began falling softly against the window.

Tokyo became quieter still.

Somewhere around four in the morning—

Neither remembered drifting closer.

Not intentionally.

Simply because sleeping humans moved.

When Kenji briefly woke, he realized one thing.

Umi's shoulder rested lightly against his arm.

She was sound asleep.

For the first time all day—

She looked younger.

Peaceful.

No cameras.

No lights.

No makeup.

Just someone who had finally stopped performing.

He smiled faintly.

Adjusted the blanket over her shoulder so she wouldn't get cold.

Then closed his eyes again.

Morning sunlight slipped through the curtains.

Umi woke first.

She blinked.

Looked down.

Realized she was using Kenji's shoulder as a pillow.

"..."

She froze.

Slowly looked upward.

He was still asleep.

Hair messy.

Dark circles beneath his eyes.

One hand still loosely holding the edge of the blanket he'd apparently pulled over both of them during the night.

She smiled.

Not embarrassed.

Not alarmed.

Just... strangely comfortable.

For someone she had met only hours ago.

Almost as though they had unknowingly spent years carrying similar burdens.

When Kenji finally stirred awake, he noticed her looking out the window.

"Morning."

She turned with a sleepy smile.

"Morning, Doctor."

He stretched carefully.

"I hope I wasn't a terrible roommate."

She laughed.

"I was about to say the same thing."

For a brief moment, neither of them rushed to leave.

Outside, the city was already hurrying into another busy day.

Inside that modest hotel room, two exhausted strangers shared one last quiet cup of instant coffee before stepping back into their separate worlds—both carrying the unexpected comfort of a night where nothing remarkable had happened, except finding someone who understood the weight of simply being tired.

"The Secret Lair Slot Machine"

 "The Secret Lair Slot Machine"

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD

I love Magic cards, and I love playing the game of Magic: The Gathering.

But Wizards of the Coast has been milking the players of this game for a very long time.

They pioneered the direct-to-player release of cards through Secret Lair. These were curated selections of reprints, alternate-art cards, or occasionally a mechanically unique card that could only be found in a particular drop. It was all the rage. People wanted the unique-looking cards, the exclusives, and the feeling that they were getting something special.

At least in the early days of Secret Lair, your biggest problem was simply getting one.

You had to queue for a chance to buy the product, and sometimes you didn't get it. But if you did manage to get one, at least you knew exactly what you were paying for and what you were getting.

Well, except for the occasional bonus card that changed from drop to drop.

That was Secret Lair.

It has been that way for years.

But apparently, Wizards of the Coast no longer wants you to gamble only with Play Boosters and Collector Boosters.

Now it wants you to gamble with Secret Lair as well.

Enter Secret Lair x MSCHF: The Zeta Set.

For the first time, Wizards isn't simply selling you a collection of Secret Lair cards.

It's selling you booster packs of Secret Lair cards.

Think about that for a moment.

The whole appeal of Secret Lair was that you knew what you were buying. You saw the cards. You knew the treatment. You knew what you were paying for.

Now we're taking that concept and putting it into a booster pack.

To be clear, these cards are inspired by the original Magic playtest cards. They are not the original playtest cards themselves.

Instead, we're being given a carefully constructed nostalgia package based on the materials, fonts, and general aesthetic supposedly associated with the playtest era of Magic back in 1992.

And honestly?

Such nostalgia baiting. Such bullshit.

Most players would never know what those original playtest cards actually looked like.

Most would never know what materials were used to make them, what fonts were used, or what happened to those cards afterward.

Many of them may not even exist anymore.

But that doesn't matter.

Because Wizards has figured out that it doesn't have to sell you the history.

It just has to sell you the idea of the history.

And targeting some of Magic's oldest players with a product built around that nostalgia feels particularly cynical.

These are the players who remember when Magic was new. The players who remember the game's early years. The players who have been around long enough to recognize the references.

And now that nostalgia is being packaged into a product where you don't even know exactly what you're going to get.

That is where this starts feeling less like Secret Lair and more like a slot machine.

And perhaps that's exactly what this is:

An experiment.

Wizards has increasingly been experimenting with how much the Magic collector base is willing to tolerate—and, more importantly, how much it is willing to pay for.

If people buy this, if people enjoy opening these Secret Lair booster packs, and if the product generates enough money, then Wizards has learned something.

It has learned that players will accept randomness in a product that was originally built around certainty.

And once that door is open, where does it stop?

Secret Lair Boosters.

Secret Lair Mystery Packs.

Secret Lair Collections where you have no idea which cards you're actually buying.

Suddenly, the thing that used to be a guaranteed purchase becomes another opportunity to roll the dice.

And of course, the house always wins.

Mark my words: if this works, I wouldn't be surprised if Wizards eventually finds a way to use the same model for products that never sold particularly well.

Those Secret Lairs sitting in warehouses?

Those cards that didn't move?

That "Wildcard" they are advertising as potentially being of any rarity?

Well, what do you think the odds are that you're going to open something amazing?

Maybe I'm being cynical.

But we've played this game before.

The wildcard could be something nobody wanted in the first place.

Or, in the case of a re-release, it could be something that already sucked—

and now sucks twice.

That's the part that bothers me most.

Not that Wizards wants to make money.

Of course they do. Magic is a business, and nobody expects Wizards to give away cards out of the goodness of its heart.

What bothers me is the constant search for another way to monetize the people who already love the game.

We buy the cards.

We buy the sets.

We buy the boosters.

We buy the Collector Boosters.

We buy the Secret Lairs.

And now we're apparently being asked to gamble on the Secret Lairs themselves.

Maybe the Zeta Set will be a huge success.

Maybe players will love it.

Maybe I'm completely wrong about where this is going.

But if this experiment succeeds, I fear it won't remain an experiment for very long.

And that is what makes this such a sad turn of events for a game that I genuinely love.

Magic has always had randomness built into it.

I just never thought the randomness would eventually extend to whether the product I'm buying is worth buying in the first place.

"Credentials, Google, and Yakult: Three Things Difficult Patients Have Taught Me."

 "Credentials, Google, and Yakult: Three Things Difficult Patients Have Taught Me."

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD

Over the years, dealing with difficult patients has taught me many things. Some of them are about medicine. Others are about human nature.

But if I had to narrow it down, there are three lessons that come up again and again.

1. They will try to intimidate you.

“By the way, I’m a manager…”

“Meron akong nurse na kamag-anak sa States.”

“Kilala ko si Doctor So-and-So…”

“Alam mo ba ginagawa mo, Doc?”

“Hindi naman ’yan ang sabi ng endocrinologist ko.”

The funny thing is that, in many of these situations, the intimidation comes after they have already been caught in a lie.

You point out the discrepancy. You show them the evidence. You explain what actually happened.

And then, almost immediately, comes the next attempt at establishing authority.

“By the way, I’m a manager.”

“I have a relative who’s a nurse in the States.”

“I know Doctor So-and-So.”

Apparently, when the facts stop working, credentials—real, exaggerated, or completely irrelevant—must take over.

Funny indeed.

2. They know absolutely nothing, yet demand to school you on something you have literally spent your life studying.

“Doc, sabi ni ChatGPT…”

“Ang galing nung doctor sa TikTok, sabi niya…”

“Cancer daw ito, sabi ni Google, Doc.”

“Alam mo, Doc, depressed ako.”

The internet has done many wonderful things for medicine.

It has also convinced a remarkable number of people that reading three search results is equivalent to medical training.

There is nothing wrong with patients asking questions. In fact, I encourage it. Patients should understand their conditions and participate in decisions about their own health.

But there is a difference between asking questions and insisting that a TikTok video, a Google search, or an AI chatbot has somehow invalidated years of medical education and clinical experience.

Most of the time, I simply let people wallow in their own ignorance.

It is funnier that way.

3. They suffer the consequences of their actions—and then complain about them.

This one is perhaps the most frustrating.

“Hindi ko tinapos yung gamot, Doc. Masakit ulit umihi. Bumalik ba yung UTI ko, Doc?”

“Okay naman na BP ko eh, kaya tinigil ko na.”

“Mahal yung gamot, Doc. Tumira na lang ako ng Yakult.”

You explain why they need to finish the treatment.

You explain why maintenance medication is called maintenance.

You explain that feeling better does not necessarily mean that the underlying problem has disappeared.

And then they stop the medication anyway.

When the problem returns, they come back and ask why.

Medicine is sometimes like that. There are consequences to decisions, and unfortunately, the human body does not always care whether those decisions were made because someone was stubborn, misinformed, or simply trying to save money.

What makes it particularly difficult for doctors is that we are often expected to fix the consequences while simultaneously being blamed for them.

And that brings me to the uncomfortable part.

These interactions are not the reason doctors become doctors. We enter the profession because we want to help people.

But after years of dealing with intimidation, misinformation, self-diagnosis, noncompliance, and patients demanding that you undo the consequences of decisions they knowingly made, the frustration accumulates.

One difficult patient is manageable.

Another one is manageable.

And another.

But eventually, you begin to wonder why you are fighting so hard to help people who seem determined to fight you every step of the way.

And this is why more and more doctors are becoming tired of the profession.

Not because we stopped caring about patients.

Sometimes, it is because caring for patients has become the easiest part of the job.

"Garruk, Veiled Butcher: Free From the Curse, Trapped in a Bad Card"

"Garruk, Veiled Butcher: Free From the Curse, Trapped in a Bad Card"

by:

Virgilio F. De Leon Jr., MD

Garruk, Veiled Butcher will appear in Reality Fracture, and this seems to be the version of Garruk still suffering under the curse of the Chain Veil.

There is a lot going on with his abilities, and at first glance, he looks like he could find a home in quite a few decks. Mostly, though, those decks will probably be the ones that enjoy death, sacrifice, and making people discard cards.

So, you know.

Very Garruk.

Very... Black.

At five mana, Garruk, Veiled Butcher has a static ability that, at the very least, makes him feel like a more expensive Grave Pact or perhaps a better version of Dictate of Erebos. The difference is that his ability cares about your opponents' creatures dying, rather than just your own creatures being sacrificed.

And when those creatures die?

They get exiled.

Goodbye, combo piece.

Goodbye, important creature.

Goodbye, whatever annoying thing your opponent was planning to bring back from the graveyard.

Exiled for good. At least until the next game.

That part, I actually like.

Garruk's +2 ability also reflects the corruption that has affected him. It weakens creatures, and can eventually kill those with only one toughness. A mana dork, perhaps? A small token innocently standing around and minding its own business?

Garruk does not care.

It dies.

It gets exiled.

Simple.

His -2 ability is where things start becoming less impressive. Each player sacrifices a creature of their choice. If you sacrifice a creature this way, you create a 4/4 green Beast creature token with trample.

This feels like a weaker Innocent Blood to me because you're giving your opponents the choice of what they sacrifice. Naturally, they are going to wave goodbye to Mr. 1/1 Token rather than sacrifice their commander or best creature.

Meanwhile, the bonus 4/4 Beast on your side is dependent on you sacrificing a creature as well.

All this talk of sacrifice.

So much negativity.

So Black.

And then we get to his final ability: -3.

See?

More negativity.

Apparently, Liliana's influence on Garruk has become so strong that he can now force all your opponents to discard two cards. Maybe he intimidates them out of their minds. Maybe he smells terrible and simply makes everyone angry. Who knows?

But wait, there's more.

For each opponent who doesn't discard two nonland cards, you draw a card. So, potentially, you could draw up to three cards in a four-player Commander game.

The problem is that it all depends on what your opponents choose to discard.

And that seems to be the issue I have with Garruk, Veiled Butcher.

There are just too many loopholes and too many conditions before you really get to enjoy what he is supposed to do. He feels like a watered-down version of a card concept Wizards may have been working toward for some time, but somehow ended up with a planeswalker that asks you to jump through several hoops before rewarding you with anything worthwhile.

For five mana, I would honestly rather cast the original Liliana Vess.

Sorry, Garruk.

I'm glad you eventually escaped that curse.

Because this version of you?

This version sucks.

"Doctors Laugh Because Sometimes That's All We Can Do"

 "Doctors Laugh Because Sometimes That's All We Can Do"

by:

Virgilio F. De Leon Jr., MD

After facing some serious family troubles recently, I found myself cracking a joke and laughing.

My wife looked at me and asked, “How can you laugh at a time like this?”

My answer was simple.

“I’m a doctor.”

Our humor can be dark. It has to be. The things we encounter don't always allow us the luxury of being intimidated by fear, uncertainty, or even the gravity of what is happening around us.

We often face death. We also meet people who have survived it, but now have to live with the consequences of what happened or the choices they made. We learn to take these things in stride because, sometimes, if you can't laugh at the absurdity of it all, you might just lose your mind.

Doctors are built differently. Or perhaps more accurately, we are trained differently.

When faced with overwhelming odds, we learn to compartmentalize. We push aside the things that don't need our attention right now and focus on the things we can—and need to—do.

We put our worries into little boxes and shove those boxes somewhere deep inside ourselves.

We'll deal with them later.

Sometimes, there simply isn't a later.

In some fields of medicine, there is no time to grieve. There is no time to process what you have just witnessed or even what is still happening right in front of you. You go into automatic mode.

Diagnose.

Repair.

Anticipate.

Think three or four steps ahead, preparing for consequences that may or may not ever happen.

You keep moving because someone needs you to keep moving.

And so doctors still smile.

We still laugh.

Sometimes because the situation is genuinely funny. Sometimes because the absurdity of it all is overwhelming. And sometimes because laughter is simply the only thing you have left to give yourself in a terrible situation.

You take a breath.

You look at the life you have chosen.

And you laugh.

Not because you don't care.

Not because you don't understand the seriousness of what is happening.

But because sometimes the joke is hidden somewhere in the choices we made, the situations we find ourselves in, and the strange road that brought us here.

And sometimes, after everything we've seen, all you can really do is laugh...

take another breath...

and get back to work.

"The Language of Forever"

"The Language of Forever"

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD

Jeong Mina knew exactly what V's handwriting looked like.

She had seen it on contracts, revisions, notes to editors, and the increasingly ridiculous manuscripts he insisted on submitting at the last possible moment.

So when a thick manuscript appeared on her desk, she immediately assumed it was Volume Three of History Was Never This Serious.

She smiled.

"Finally."

She opened the first page.

Then stopped.

There was no history.

No jokes.

No footnotes.

No sarcastic observations about kings.

Instead, there was a poem.

Mina turned the page.

Another.

Then another.

She slowly sat down.

"What have you done, V?"

The manuscript was enormous.

It was a collection of poetry unlike anything she had encountered in her decades in publishing.

The poems began in ancient forms.

Some used archaic language and structures that would have been familiar to scholars but nearly incomprehensible to younger readers.

Then, gradually, the language changed.

The imagery remained.

The story remained.

But the poetry became simpler.

More conversational.

More modern.

Until, toward the end, the poems read almost like the thoughts of someone sitting alone at three in the morning, trying to understand why loving someone could hurt so much.

Mina kept reading.

There was an immortal dragon.

There was a woman.

And there were countless lives.

The woman returned again and again.

Each time younger.

Each time with less time to live.

And each time, the dragon found her.

Loved her.

Lost her.

Waited.

Then found her again.

Until finally, the dragon made the decision that broke Mina's heart.

He would stop searching.

He would let her live.

Not because he loved her less.

Because he loved her enough to let her choose a life without him.

Mina put the manuscript down.

She wiped her eyes.

"You're an idiot."

She knew immediately that it had to be published.

The book was released quietly.

There was no elaborate campaign.

V didn't appear on television.

He refused a major launch event.

The title was simple:

The Language of Forever

The publisher expected respectable sales.

Perhaps a strong showing among older readers.

Maybe some university interest.

What happened instead stunned everyone.

The book became a cultural phenomenon.

Older scholars recognized the early poems immediately.

They began discussing the classical structures.

Young readers became fascinated by the later poems.

They highlighted passages.

Posted photographs.

Discussed meanings online.

And then something strange happened.

The generations began needing each other.

Young people went to language institutes where elderly scholars taught classical Korean.

Students arrived with copies of the book and asked questions.

"What does this expression mean?"

"Why is the poem structured like this?"

"Why does the language change here?"

The older scholars, in turn, encountered expressions from the final poems that they didn't understand.

They began asking younger people.

"What does this phrase mean?"

"Why would someone write it this way?"

The young explained.

The old listened.

And then the conversations continued.

Soon, university students were sitting in cafés with retired professors.

Grandparents were discussing poetry with teenagers.

Young people began taking an interest in old forms of Korean poetry.

Older readers began learning contemporary expressions.

The boundaries between generations softened.

One newspaper called it:

The Book That Made Korea Talk to Itself.

Another called it:

A Bridge Between Centuries.

Mina thought both descriptions were inadequate.

Because the strange thing about the book wasn't that it was old-fashioned or modern.

It was both.

It began in the distant past and slowly walked toward the present.

Just like its protagonist.

An immortal being watching the world change around him.

Learning new languages.

New customs.

New ways of expressing love.

But always carrying the same feeling.

Le-Ann read it alone.

She had hidden the copy beneath a pile of clothes in her room.

She didn't want the other members asking questions.

She didn't want Jiwoo looking over her shoulder.

She certainly didn't want anyone knowing how deeply the book affected her.

At first, she smiled.

The earliest poems were difficult.

She recognized the rhythm.

The imagery.

The ancient language.

Some of it felt strangely familiar.

Then she reached the middle.

The language became easier.

The poems began describing a woman returning to the world.

Again.

And again.

And again.

She knew.

She knew before she reached the end.

The dragon wasn't fictional.

Not really.

The woman wasn't fictional either.

It was them.

Their lives.

Their memories.

Their centuries together.

Their separations.

Their reunions.

Their ridiculous little moments.

The temple.

The mountains.

The gardens.

The food.

The laughter.

And finally, the decision.

The dragon would stop searching.

He would let her go.

Le-Ann's eyes blurred.

She turned the page.

Another poem.

The language was completely modern now.

No ancient metaphors.

No elaborate structures.

Just a person admitting that sometimes loving someone meant allowing them to walk away.

Le-Ann covered her mouth.

Tears fell onto the page.

"V..."

She kept reading.

The final poem was almost painfully simple.

The dragon didn't ask her to return.

He didn't ask her to remember.

He didn't ask her to love him.

He simply wished her a long life.

A happy life.

A life in which she could become whoever she wanted to be.

Even if he wasn't part of it.

Le-Ann closed the book.

She pressed it against her chest.

For a long time, she cried silently.

Not because she was unhappy.

Because she finally understood.

V had never truly stopped loving her.

He had simply changed what his love meant.

He had spent centuries searching for her.

And now he was asking for nothing.

Not even another lifetime.

Le-Ann looked down at the book.

"You're such an idiot."

She laughed through her tears.

Then she opened it again.

She read the first poem.

Then the last.

Then the ones in between.

And somewhere between the oldest words and the newest ones, Le-Ann realized what V had given her.

Not a farewell.

Not exactly.

A record.

Proof that they had existed.

That they had loved.

That their lives had mattered.

A bridge between everything they had been and everything she might become.

Outside her room, the other members were laughing.

Life continued.

Le-Ann wiped her eyes.

She knew she should put the book away.

Instead, she turned back to the beginning.

She wanted to read it again.

And for the first time, she wondered if perhaps V had misunderstood the final lesson of their story.

He had spent centuries finding her.

Perhaps this time, he needed to learn that she was capable of finding him too.

"Miss Highwater: Sign Here, Die Later"

 "Miss Highwater: Sign Here, Die Later"

by:

Virgilio F. De Leon Jr., MD

Black is getting some really great toys next year, and Miss Highwater will be among them.

She is a four-mana creature with a 5/3 body and Menace. But it's her text box that really caught my attention. At first glance, her ability seems fair. The more you think about it, though, the more you realize just how unfair it can become.

Miss Highwater is, appropriately enough, a Demon Lawyer/Advisor. And like any good lawyer, she gives your opponents something that looks attractive in the short term while quietly setting up the long game in your favor.

Here's how it works.

When Miss Highwater deals combat damage to a player who doesn't already have a contract counter, that player may discard their hand and draw seven cards. At face value, that sounds like a pretty good deal. You are essentially giving an opponent a fresh hand of seven cards.

Of course, there is a catch.

That player then gets a contract counter.

And that's when things get interesting.

The Contract gives you a very strong incentive to make sure that player eventually leaves the game. If a player with your contract loses the game, the artifacts and creatures they controlled are copied and end up under your control.

All their mana rocks?

Yours.

All their big, beefy creatures?

Yours.

All the other toys they spent the entire game building?

Congratulations. They're now part of your collection.

Meanwhile, your opponent is sitting there waiting for the next game while you continue playing with a significantly stronger board position.

And Miss Highwater has Menace.

That means she has a pretty good chance of connecting with multiple opponents throughout the game, potentially putting contracts all around the table.

Which brings us to the really fun—or really evil—part of the strategy.

You don't necessarily have to be the one who takes out the player with the contract.

You just have to convince everyone else that they should.

Politics suddenly becomes a very important part of the deck. Give someone seven fresh cards, put a contract on them, and then quietly encourage the rest of the table to deal with the problem you just created.

The trick, of course, is making sure that you aren't the problem they decide to deal with.

Miss Highwater isn't just offering contracts.

She's creating incentives.

And in Commander, there may be nothing more dangerous than an incentive that makes everyone else do the dirty work for you.

"My Daughter Loved Jollibee. Then I Found Out Why."

 "My Daughter Loved Jollibee. Then I Found Out Why."

by:

Virgilio F. De Leon Jr., MD

When my daughter Aven was three years old, we had a birthday party at Jollibee in West Avenue. During that party, I managed to take a snapshot of Aven hugging Jollibee.

The look on her face was pure love.

Her eyes were closed, and she was hugging him as tightly as she could.

I have often joked that Jollibee was Aven's first love.

I sometimes wondered if that was actually true because every time my daughter hugged me, I felt no less love from her than what I saw in that photograph—a little girl embracing the symbol of Pinoy food excellence with all her heart.

Recently, I shared that old photograph on my Facebook page. The following night, during dinner, I brought it up.

"Love na love mo si Jollibee, ano, anak?"

What our now 20-year-old daughter told us next shook me to the core.

"Daddy, didn't you know I hugged Jollibee like that because he reminded me of you?"

A teardrop was about to fall from my left eye.

I was genuinely touched.

And then, somewhere between the emotion and the realization, the tear decided to retreat.

Wait.

I looked like Jollibee?

Suddenly, an internal debate began.

Should I feel loved?

Or should I feel offended?

I looked at old photographs of myself from when Aven was three years old.

Unfortunately, the resemblance was uncanny.

There I was, staring back at myself, and I had to admit that my daughter had a point.

In the end, though, the sentiment of love won.

Because what she was really telling me was that even as a three-year-old, she associated that feeling of warmth and happiness with me. She saw something familiar in that big red-and-yellow mascot and hugged it the same way she hugged her father.

And honestly, there are worse things a daughter can compare her dad to.

A little part of me was still offended, though.

Just a really, really small part.

"Blor: You Can't Kill This Frog."

 "Blor: You Can't Kill This Frog."

by:

Virgilio F. De Leon Jr., MD

Blor is one of those funny cards because, well... he just is.

Imagine getting him onto the battlefield. Short of sacrifice effects, exile effects, mass bounce, or putting -1/-1 counters on him with something like Black Sun's Zenith, there really aren't many ways to get him off the field.

At five mana, he's fairly easy to cast in Green. Trample, Hexproof, and Indestructible. They were even a little shy about giving him Haste and making him unable to be countered, like some Hydras I know.

He really isn't that beefy at 3/3, but with Indestructible, he simply brushes off traditional creature removal.

Wrath of God?

Damnation?

Blasphemous Act?

He just puffs out his chest, shrugs them off, and keeps going.

The question of whether you can Doom Blade him is also moot. Hexproof takes care of that. Can you Boomerang him? Swords to Plowshares him?

Nope.

Your opponents can't target him, but you certainly can.

And that's where things get interesting.

Now imagine Blor wearing a Blanchwood Armor or an Alpha Status with a bunch of other Frogs in your deck. He can become massive enough to make full use of that Trample, and suddenly that seemingly unimpressive 3/3 doesn't look so small anymore.

And, as usual, my game plan involves making Blor a Phyrexian.

Just equip Grafted Exoskeleton to him.

Blanchwood Armor and Grafted Exoskeleton on a trampling, hexproof, indestructible creature?

I am absolutely in.

At that point, Blor isn't just a frog.

He's a problem.

"Ekthi, Contaminator Priest: Give Your Equipment a Life of Its Own."

by:

Virgilio F. De Leon Jr., MD

The Mystery Boosters Commander Edition doesn't just give us Planeswalker Commanders. It also introduces a whole lot of Legendary Creatures that can support some very interesting and specialized builds.

Someone in Wizards R&D must have taken a look at all the Equipment cards available to players and thought, "We have a lot of weapons. But what happens if the weapons could fight on their own?"

Because that's the thing about Equipment: if you don't have a creature to equip it to—to wield it, so to speak—it is basically just a very expensive piece of metal taking up space on the battlefield.

Since their introduction in the original Mirrodin block, Equipment has become a favorite tool for many Magic players. And then the Phyrexians came along and, naturally, decided that perfectly good artifacts weren't horrifying enough. They corrupted them, twisted them, and turned them into Living Weapons.

Living Weapons are essentially Equipment that come with their own creature to wield them.

They can be used for the glory of Phyrexia!!!

Sorry. My Phyrexian is showing.

Or, if you prefer, they can be used for your own personal glory.

Now, what if those Living Weapons had a Lord?

Enter Ekthi, Contaminator Priest.

Obviously, Ekthi appears to be aligned with Elesh Norn's faction, and she seems to believe that purification comes through the corruption of the vessel. Maybe that vessel is an Equipment. Maybe it's a person.

Potatoes, potahtoes.

This four-mana creature does what Lords have traditionally done best: she gives her chosen creature type a +1/+1 boost. And yes, Phyrexian is now a creature type, so there is plenty of room to build around that.

But Ekthi isn't just a Phyrexian Lord.

She is the Lord of Phyrexian Living Weapons.

And she creates those Living Weapons as they enter the battlefield under your control.

Think about all those Swords that already come with Protection and a variety of useful abilities. Now imagine them coming to life, ready and willing to serve. Swords, armor, cloaks, daggers, spears—pretty much anything you can imagine turning into a creature as soon as it enters the battlefield.

Imagine something like Blackblade Reforged becoming a Living Weapon.

Not only would you get its power and toughness based on the number of lands you control, but that creature would also receive an additional +1/+1 from Ekthi because it is now a Phyrexian Germ.

That opens up a lot of possibilities.

There are so many interesting pieces of metal sitting in my collection just waiting to be put to use.

With Ekthi around, they don't have to remain pieces of Equipment anymore.

They can become an army.

And I think this is going to be fun.

"Garruk, Curse Breaker: Why Kill Them When Someone Else Can?"

"Garruk, Curse Breaker: Why Kill Them When Someone Else Can?"

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD

Since I started writing again this month, I've gotten into the habit of analyzing the planeswalkers we're going to be getting in 2027.

I've deliberately avoided many of the current planeswalkers in circulation, mainly because I feel they have already been covered to death at this point. There are only so many ways you can analyze a planeswalker before you start repeating yourself.

Now that I've written about the nine planeswalkers coming in Mystery Booster Commander Edition, I'd like to turn my attention to the last in-universe set of the year, Reality Fracture.

The premise is certainly interesting.

Jace is essentially trying to pull a Hal Jordan—and if you don't know the reference, go read up on Green Lantern. He is attempting to alter reality so that all the terrible things that have happened up to this point simply never existed.

Joining him are planeswalkers who appear in colors opposite to their usual identities.

Opposites, yes.

But as we see later, these opposing colors aren't necessarily foreign to these planeswalkers. In fact, they may represent aspects of their personalities that were already there.

A good example is Garruk.

After being cursed by the Chain Veil, Garruk carried black mana within him. So in Reality Fracture, we get both a green and a black version of Garruk.

Today, I'll be focusing on Garruk, Curse Breaker, a five-mana planeswalker costing three generic mana and two green.

I have several Beast decks that are going to want this planeswalker as support, as well as a redundancy for an existing enchantment I already love: Garruk's Uprising.

Garruk, Curse Breaker's static ability is a significant improvement for this strategy. It simply checks whether a creature with power 4 or greater enters the battlefield under your control, and if it does, you draw a card.

That's a pretty good deal in a Beast deck.

Big creatures are already what you're planning to play, so getting a card every time one of them enters the battlefield can generate a considerable amount of value.

His +2 ability allows you to untap two lands.

That's great for Garruk, especially if those lands are capable of producing more than one mana. Imagine untapping something like Ancient Tomb or Gaea's Cradle.

Now you're not just building loyalty.

You're potentially setting yourself up for an even bigger play on your next turn.

His -3 ability is classic Garruk.

You create a 4/4 Beast token with trample.

A big body that can protect Garruk, attack your opponents, and, thanks to his static ability, immediately draws you a card when it enters the battlefield.

A 4/4 Beast, a card, and a planeswalker that can start generating more mana?

I'll take that.

But then we get to the -6 ability, and this is where Garruk gets a little political.

The ability lets you persuade another player to attack one of your other opponents. When they do, the creatures they control get +2/+2 and trample until end of turn.

You can activate it, point toward another player, and essentially say:

"You know that guy over there? I think you should attack him."

And suddenly their creatures become significantly more dangerous.

If they have a large army, you might even be able to convince them to put the final nail in another player's coffin.

Of course, you could do the deed yourself. Your own creatures can take advantage of the +2/+2 and trample as well.

But where's the fun in that?

I'd much rather have somebody else take out another player for me.

At least when I'm playing with Garruk, Curse Breaker on the battlefield.

I still prefer to bloody my opponents whenever I can.

I'm just perfectly happy to let someone else do it first.

And that's what I find particularly interesting about this version of Garruk. He's still doing the things you'd expect from him—making Beasts, generating mana, and encouraging creatures to smash into each other.

But now there's a little bit of politics involved.

And sometimes, the best way to win a Commander game isn't to kill everyone yourself.

Sometimes, you just need to point Garruk in the right direction and let everybody else do the work.

"Nephilim Epochal: The Lord They Always Wanted"

 "Nephilim Epochal: The Lord They Always Wanted"

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD

The Nephilim were a cycle of five awesome creature cards that first appeared in Ravnica: Guildpact. They were the ancient gods of Ravnica, predating the Guildpact itself. Eventually, they were subdued and buried.

Then an excavation in the Utvara district awakened all five of them.

And, naturally, they went on a rampage.

All five Nephilim required four different colors of mana to cast and came with powerful abilities. Players have long wished that Wizards of the Coast had made them legendary creatures because they could have been fantastic commanders.

Well, it's far too late for that now.

So what did Wizards do?

They gave the Nephilim a Lord.

That way, you can finally put all of these ancient monstrosities into the same deck!

Enter Nephilim Epochal, a creature that can be cast using all five colors of mana thanks to its hybrid mana requirements.

So what makes it a Lord?

It gives benefits to the creature type it is associated with.

For starters, it can search your library for a Nephilim and put it directly into your hand. That's already a pretty useful ability when you're trying to assemble a very specific five-color tribe.

Then there's the stat boost.

Nephilim you control get +1/+1 for each other Nephilim you control, and they can't be blocked by monocolored creatures.

The monocolored restriction can be made particularly interesting with cards like Darkest Hour. In that case, all creatures become black, essentially making the entire battlefield monocolored.

That could make your Nephilim army very difficult to block.

So let's say you somehow manage to get all five original Nephilim onto the battlefield.

That's five Nephilim plus the Lord.

Each original Nephilim could potentially get a +5/+5 boost.

That's not bad at all.

And, of course, there's another possibility.

Changelings.

Because Changelings have every creature type, they can join the Nephilim party as well. Add some inexpensive Changelings to the deck and suddenly you have additional bodies contributing to that enormous stat boost.

Oh, and Nephilim Epochal can search for those Changelings too.

So now the deck isn't limited to simply finding the five original Nephilim. You can use your Lord to assemble an entire Eldritch-looking army.

And honestly?

That's exactly the kind of nonsense I enjoy in Commander.

The original Nephilim may never have become legendary creatures, but Wizards has given us another way to bring these ancient gods together.

Five colors.

Five ancient monsters.

One very helpful Lord.

Casting Eldritch monsters is my jam, after all.

"Feroz, Ulgrotha’s Warden: Birds, Bans, and Bant Stax"

"Feroz, Ulgrotha’s Warden: Birds, Bans, and Bant Stax"

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD

Feroz, Ulgrotha's Warden was a good person.

He was a wizard, a teacher, and, perhaps most importantly, the husband of Serra.

Yes, that Serra.

The Serra who had her own realm.

The Serra who created angels.

That Serra.

Feroz, as his planeswalker card proclaims, is the Warden of Ulgrotha. He protected the plane from threats such as Baron Sengir, as well as incursions from other planeswalkers. Those incursions eventually became the reason he created Feroz's Ban—at least, that's how the lore tells it.

So, on to the card.

Feroz is a six-mana planeswalker in Bant colors, requiring three generic mana and one each of green, white, and blue. He enters the battlefield with five loyalty counters.

His +2 ability creates two 1/1 blue Bird creature tokens with flying.

These are probably the albatrosses associated with Feroz, and honestly, getting two flying bodies every time you activate the ability isn't a bad way to protect your planeswalker.

But his second ability is the one that really excites me.

It's a 0 ability.

You draw a card, and then you may put a permanent card with mana value 4 or less from your hand directly onto the battlefield.

Yes, you can put lands into play this way.

But that's hardly the most interesting thing you can do with it.

There are so many permanents with mana value four or less that could benefit from being cheated directly onto the battlefield. Creatures, enchantments, artifacts...

Maybe even some Stax pieces.

Boooo.

But let's be honest: if you're playing Bant and your planeswalker is giving you a free permanent every turn, someone is probably going to find a way to make the most annoying permanent possible appear on the battlefield.

And then we get to his -7 ability, which allows you to create Feroz's Ban.

It seems more anti-creature than anti-planeswalker to me, but hey, this is just another Stax piece to add to the collection.

At least it follows one of Feroz's most important beliefs: summoning creatures for battle is immoral.

He apparently believes that so strongly that he's willing to make sure everyone else has a very difficult time doing it.

Birds.

Free permanents.

And a Ban that tells creatures to stay home.

Feroz may have been a good man and a devoted husband to Serra, but as a Commander?

He might be an absolute nightmare to play against.

"Sifa Grent: Blood, Politics, and a Little Bit of Rakdos"

 

"Sifa Grent: Blood, Politics, and a Little Bit of Rakdos"

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD

I can just see it now.

The smile on the faces of those blood-sucking, Aristocrats-loving players who finally have a planeswalker commander in Rakdos colors, giving them another way to build their favorite blood-soaked sacrifice decks.

And honestly?

I can't blame them.

Sifa Grent originally came from the plane of Grixis. Her spark was ignited when the Demon Malphegor attempted to steal it so he could escape that sliver of a plane.

Because, of course, Grixis was originally just a small piece of Alara.

Sifa was also Dack Fayden's archnemesis in the comic book series.

Rest in peace, Dack.

Oh, and you too, Sifa.

Apparently, this all happened before Sifa eventually met her end at the foot of Vitu-Ghazi on Ravnica.

So what exactly would make Aristocrats players happy about Sifa?

Her static ability, of course.

Whenever a creature dies, a target opponent loses 1 life and you gain 1 life.

Bring out the dice, counters, or whatever other recording devices you use, because there is going to be a lot of upticking and downticking going on in games with Sifa.

And notice that it simply says whenever a creature dies.

Let's say each of your three opponents has at least one creature on the battlefield. You then cast Fleshbag Marauder, forcing everyone to sacrifice a creature.

Even Fleshbag Marauder itself ends up in the graveyard.

That's four creatures dying.

Four life lost by your most hated opponent.

Four life gained by you.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Sifa can also get surprisingly political.

Her +1 ability allows you to goad two creatures at once. That means those creatures can't attack you—or a planeswalker you control—but they can attack everyone else.

Now imagine that you've goaded two enormous creatures on opposing sides of the table. Maybe they're both 8/8s.

Suddenly, you're forcing one player to send their giant creature into another player's giant creature.

They could trade.

They could take each other out.

And if both creatures die, that's two more life lost for an opponent and two more life gained for you.

Hmmmmm.

Protective and political.

I like it.

Then there's the -6 ability, which gives you a form of impulse draw while disrupting everyone else.

Each opponent exiles the top two cards of their library.

Hopefully, you just exiled a piece of the combo they were building.

Or maybe that board wipe they were hoping to draw.

Perhaps you just ruined the plans of the player who has been digging through their deck all game with Sensei's Divining Top.

Hahahaha.

That's not card advantage in the traditional sense, but it is certainly disruption.

And when you combine that disruption with the life-drain engine and the political manipulation from her +1, Sifa starts looking like a very interesting commander.

Card Advantage. Disruption. Life Drain. Politics.

Better still.

While I don't normally play these types of decks, I have to admit that if I eventually decide to build an Aristocrats deck, Sifa Grent will probably be at the top of my list for commander.

I may not normally embrace the blood-sucking lifestyle.

But if Sifa is offering?

I might just make an exception.

"Thomil, the Destroyer: Five Mana for a Lot of Sacrifices"

 

"Thomil, the Destroyer: Five Mana for a Lot of Sacrifices"

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD

Thomil, the Destroyer has the template of Liliana Vess, but with significantly weaker text than that wonderful black planeswalker.

Honestly, I find Thomil a little ho-hum for his mana cost.

Five mana is a significant investment, although in Magic Christmas Land, you can probably find a way to get him onto the battlefield as early as turn three.

His +2 ability creates a 2/2 black Zombie token. That's certainly useful, especially in a deck that wants creatures around for sacrifice effects.

Then there's his 0 ability, which allows you to sacrifice a creature for three mana.

It's essentially a weaker version of Culling the Weak. You're giving up a creature to generate mana, but instead of getting four black mana, you only get three.

Still, in the right deck, sacrificing creatures can actually be part of the plan.

And then we get to the big one: his ultimate summons a Lord of the Pit token.

A monstrous 7/7 flying, trampling Demon that gets hungry during every upkeep.

And by hungry, I mean you need to sacrifice a creature to it.

If you can't—or don't want to—feed it, Lord of the Pit takes seven life from you instead.

In an EDH game, where everyone starts with 40 life, seven damage doesn't sound like an enormous price to pay.

But you are now on a clock.

Once you summon this Demon, you need to win—or at least be building toward a win—before that recurring seven damage starts eating away at your life total.

Fortunately, anyone playing Thomil is probably going to have plenty of creatures that they don't mind sacrificing. Zombies, token creatures, and creatures that want to go to the graveyard anyway could all make Lord of the Pit considerably easier to manage.

That makes Thomil potentially useful support for mono-black token and sacrifice strategies.

But here's my problem with him.

I feel like Thomil is ultimately a watered-down version of Liliana Vess. Liliana is simply more efficient at doing what I would expect a black planeswalker to do, particularly when it comes to generating Zombies and providing value.

Thomil isn't terrible.

He's just not particularly exciting.

I can see him working in the right sacrifice or token deck, and I'm sure there are players who will find some wonderfully evil combinations with him.

As for me?

I hope I can pick up Thomil cheaply enough to add him to my collection.

But I probably won't be building him.

Five mana is a lot to spend for a planeswalker who asks me to sacrifice so much.

"Spider-Man: Brand New Day — 3 Reasons Why It Worked for Me"

"Spider-Man: Brand New Day — 3 Reasons Why It Worked for Me"

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD

“Superhero fatigue” has been thrown around as a term ever since the Marvel Cinematic Universe decided, perhaps in all its hubris, to expand far beyond the basics of simply entertaining people.

You could say they started taking things too seriously and simply lost the plot.

You could also say they managed to lose it on multiple levels.

So I went into Spider-Man: Brand New Day with an open mind.

I honestly enjoyed No Way Home, especially seeing three different Spider-Men interact with each other, but I also knew going into this movie that there were probably going to be some sad parts.

So why did it work?

Why did I leave the theater feeling entertained?

I think there are three reasons.

1. You Didn't Need to Do Your Homework

Aside from perhaps watching No Way Home as a refresher, there was no need to finish an entire assignment just to understand what was happening in this movie.

They carried forward the consequences of the previous film and made sure there were enough callbacks to remind you where Peter's story had been.

Even something as simple as the coffee cup from the donut shop works because it connects back to Peter's last encounter with MJ.

You don't need to remember every single MCU project that has come before this one.

You just need to remember Peter Parker.

And honestly, that's refreshing.

2. They Kept It About Spider-Man

Unlike Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania, or even Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, where the titular character sometimes feels like they are sharing the spotlight with a much larger story, Brand New Day feels like it is actually about Peter Parker.

The movie focuses on how Peter has been coping with everything that happened in the previous film and how difficult it has been for him to move on.

You feel his loneliness.

And that's particularly interesting because Peter is still surrounded by people who care about him. But the people who loved him most—MJ, Ned, and even Aunt May—are no longer able to be part of his life in the same way.

That's a very different kind of superhero problem.

Peter isn't trying to save the multiverse.

He's trying to figure out how to live with what he's lost.

And sometimes, keeping things personal makes a superhero story much more effective.

3. There Were Funny Moments—But Man, the Action Was There!

There were definitely funny moments, but what really stood out to me was the action.

This has some of the best Spider-Man action sequences I've seen in quite a while.

That sequence involving The Hand was particularly cool, and the movie really takes advantage of just how dynamic Spider-Man can be when he fights.

Web-slinging.

Wall-crawling.

Flipping around.

Using the environment.

Moving in ways that a normal human being simply couldn't.

They really went all-in on what makes Spider-Man's fighting style so much fun to watch.

And then there's the fact that we watched it at the Uptown Tempur Cinema in BGC.

Thanks to my wife for arranging all of that!

My back was relaxed, I had all the snacks I wanted, and I was there with my family.

So maybe I'm giving the movie a little extra credit because the entire experience was great.

But that's also part of going to the movies.

You don't just watch the film.

You experience it.

And for me, Spider-Man: Brand New Day was a great experience.

The movie entertained me, gave me a Spider-Man story that actually felt like a Spider-Man story, and reminded me why I still enjoy sitting in a theater and watching someone swing across New York.

For all the talk about superhero fatigue...

Maybe sometimes we just need to let Spider-Man be Spider-Man.

"Worzel, the Protector: Ten Fairies and a Whole Lot of Loyalty"

"Worzel, the Protector: Ten Fairies and a Whole Lot of Loyalty"

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD

Worzel, the Protector is a mono-white Commander-eligible planeswalker who makes her appearance in Mystery Booster Commander Edition.

She is the sixth planeswalker I've talked about so far, and I think she can be effective even as part of the 99 rather than necessarily being the commander of the deck.

At four mana, with a cost of 1 colorless and 3 white mana, there is certainly a heavy commitment to white. You're probably going to want to play her in a deck that is heavily invested in white, if not outright mono-white.

Whew. That was a lot of white!

Fortunately, that's not really a problem.

White has no shortage of planeswalkers, so there are plenty of options for building a deck around her.

And at only four mana, Worzel is considerably easier to get onto the battlefield than some of the more expensive planeswalkers I've looked at so far.

Now, on to her abilities.

Her first ability is a 0 ability that creates a 1/1 Cat token. But this isn't just another disposable creature token. The Cat can eventually tap to put a loyalty counter on each planeswalker you control.

Well, well.

A creature worth having around!

Not only does it give you another body on the battlefield, but it can also help get Worzel closer to her ultimate while simultaneously helping every other planeswalker you happen to have in play.

That's a pretty useful little Cat.

Her second ability is a -1 that lets you look at the top six cards of your library and dig for either a planeswalker or a basic Plains.

What you choose depends on what you need at the moment.

Are you behind on lands? Grab the Plains.

Are you setting up your next big play? Find the planeswalker you need.

Everything else goes to the bottom of your library in a random order. It's a simple ability, but being able to look six cards deep for exactly one of two things you are likely to want is pretty useful.

Let there be Plains or planeswalkers!

And then we get to her ultimate: -8 to create ten Scryb Spirit tokens.

Ten 1/1 flying Faeries that are, rather oddly, green.

Yes, you read that correctly.

Green.

Which makes me think that Worzel might have a home beyond mono-white planeswalker decks. She could potentially fit into one of those Trostani/Selesnya token decks as well.

Ten flying creatures represent a potential ten points of damage coming from the air, and suddenly that doesn't look so insignificant.

Especially when you remember what token decks tend to do.

Doubling Season.

Second Harvest.

These decks are already perfectly capable of turning a modest army into an absurdly large one. Add ten flying tokens to the equation and things could get very interesting very quickly.

And because Worzel only costs four mana, getting her onto the battlefield and working toward that ultimate isn't quite the investment it would be with a more expensive planeswalker.

I think Worzel is worth considering for mono-white planeswalker-centered decks, but I also wouldn't be surprised to see her find a home in Selesnya token decks.

A Cat that helps your planeswalkers gain loyalty, a little library digging, and an ultimate that gives you ten flying tokens?

That's a lot of loyalty for one protector.

"Dyfed: The Original Phyrexian Tour Guide"

 "Dyfed: The Original Phyrexian Tour Guide"

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD

Before the Brothers' War, Dyfed had a chance encounter with Yawgmoth, who at the time was still a Thran physician. Yawgmoth claimed that he wanted to find a paradise for the Thran, and it was Dyfed who ultimately led him to Phyrexia.

Not Mirrodin after it had been converted into a Phyrexian world, but the original Phyrexia—the plane that would eventually become the foundation of Yawgmoth's greatest ambitions.

Dyfed was also instrumental in opening a permanent portal to Phyrexia, allowing Yawgmoth to enter the plane and eventually fuse with its core.

Thanks, Dyfed!

You probably don't really want to know what happened to her afterward. Just know that her fate was about as Phyrexian as you could possibly imagine.

So, on to the card!

Dyfed, the Guiding Hand is another five-mana planeswalker commander, this time in the mono-blue variety.

And this is one I am actually excited about adding to my Atraxa Superfriends EDH deck.

Her +1 ability creates two tapped Powerstone tokens. That's pretty useful for powering out even bigger things, particularly artifacts. More mana is always welcome, especially when your deck is already planning to cast some very expensive toys.

Her second ability is a -X that untaps X target artifacts.

Now this is where things start getting interesting.

Imagine a whole collection of mana rocks waiting to be untapped. Or perhaps an Isochron Scepter with Dramatic Reversal imprinted on it.

There are plenty of possibilities here, and suddenly Dyfed starts looking less like a simple value planeswalker and more like someone who can enable some very explosive turns.

And then we get to the wonderful -6 ultimate.

You get to search your library for an artifact card, put it directly onto the battlefield, and then shuffle your library.

That is a very open-ended ability.

Portal to Phyrexia seems particularly fitting, considering Dyfed's history, but the best choice really depends on what you need at the time.

Mindslaver would certainly be high on the list.

A Blightsteel Colossus is another possibility.

Even something like Planar Bridge could be an interesting choice if you're looking toward the long game.

That's what makes this ultimate particularly appealing. You're not locked into one particular artifact. You get to find the tool that best fits the situation—and you get to put it directly onto the battlefield.

Dyfed is pretty high on my list.

Sorry about what Yawgmoth eventually did to Phyrexia.

But hey...

Thanks for showing him the way!

"Venser, Visionary Traveler: Wait... Isn’t Venser Dead?"

"Venser, Visionary Traveler: Wait... Isn’t Venser Dead?"

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD

Any Phyrexian worth his salt knows that Venser is dead.

He sacrificed his spark—his very life—to free Karn from the Phyrexians. And one can only imagine what might have happened if Karn had remained the Father of Machines. Would we have lost the war? Would Wizards of the Coast have ever explained why Phyrexian oil could be incredibly deadly one moment and seemingly ineffective the next?

But I digress.

Knowing that Venser is dead merely means that Venser, Visionary Traveler might be a younger version of him—or perhaps an entirely different version from another timeline.

And why does he look so much like Hugh Jackman?

Are they trying to get him to play Venser in some unnamed Planeswalker project?

Again, I am getting distracted.

I checked my collection binder, and there have actually been quite a few planeswalker versions of Venser over the years. The last one we saw was essentially a corrupted version of his own corpse. So perhaps the fact that Venser keeps showing up in different forms shouldn't surprise me anymore.

Still, here we are.

This five-mana planeswalker in Azorius colors looks like a mid-to-late-game advantage engine. However, if you've ever played with these particular colors, you know that Azorius isn't exactly known for attacking with hordes of creatures. They would much rather lock everything down until you eventually rage-quit.

So the static ability on this Venser is particularly interesting because it seems to encourage you to play with creatures that have been Suspended, are sitting in Exile, or have somehow made their way into your graveyard. Foretell also fits the bill.

Non-token creatures entering the battlefield with two additional +1/+1 counters is certainly useful.

But creatures coming out of Exile or Suspension bigger than when they went in?

That doesn't exactly scream Azorius to me.

His first ability, a +1, allows you to bounce a target permanent you control and return it at the beginning of the next end step under its owner's control.

Now this sounds like Azorius.

You can temporarily remove one of your own permanents and then take advantage of either its leave-the-battlefield or enter-the-battlefield ability when it returns. There are plenty of ways to turn what looks like a simple defensive trick into additional value.

And then there's the -2 ability, which lets you return up to one target nonland permanent that a player controls to its owner's hand.

That's a pretty useful bit of disruption when an opponent is pulling ahead with powerful permanents. Of course, there's always the downside that you're potentially helping them reuse something with a particularly nasty enters-the-battlefield ability.

Still, that's the sort of interaction you expect from an Azorius planeswalker.

At five mana, though, Venser feels a little underwhelming.

Nothing here immediately makes me think, "I absolutely need this card." The abilities are useful, the synergies are there, and there are definitely decks that can take advantage of what he offers.

But perhaps that's the point.

Having Venser as a commander might be exactly what some Azorius player is looking for right now—a planeswalker who rewards patience, careful sequencing, and making the most out of creatures that keep leaving and returning to the battlefield.

And considering how many times Venser has already shown up after supposedly being gone for good...

Maybe we should just stop asking whether he's dead.

He'll probably be back anyway.