For those in the gaming community, this weekend marks an important event in the on-going history of Magic: The Gathering. In case you don't know, Magic: The Gathering (MTG) is a strategy card game created in 1993 by mathematics professor Richard Garfield and marketed by Wizards of the Coast. Currently the world's most popular trading card game, MTG outpaces both Yu-Gi-Oh! and Pokemon and was recently recognized to be the "world's most complex game." The comprehensive rule-book currently runs to nearly 200 pages.
MTG, as its name implies, involves players acting as dueling mages who cast their spells by playing various card types (creatures, instants, sorceries, enchantments, artifacts, etc.) and managing resources (mana, energy) in the hopes of outmaneuvering and defeating their opponents. These spells can be cast at different times and at different speeds, leading to an intricate web of card interactions. Moreover, even though there is a complex set of rules governing gameplay, individual cards frequently allow players to violate those rules on a conditional basis--adding to the game's complexity. A variety of MTG formats exist (both 1v1 and multiplayer) which allow players to use cards from different card sets (in both paper and online versions). Several of these sets are released each year, which both add to the evolving dynamics of the game and continue to develop its rich mythologies and story-lines. Lore and aesthetics are important aspects of the game's enduring appeal.
This weekend the newest set is being released--Theros: Beyond Death--which marks the return of the game to Theros, a realm of the MTG multiverse modeled on the Graeco-Roman past. Although much of the game's early story-line took place inside its own self-generated sci-fi fantasy universes (such as Dominaria and Phyrexia), later expansion sets came to be inspired by various world cultures--such as medieval Japan (Kamigawa), early modern Europe (Innistrad), colonial South America (Ixalan), central and south Asia (Tarkir and Kaladesh), and, in the case of Theros, classical antiquity.
Are these depictions historically accurate? No. To be clear, the realm of Theros is an alternate classical universe. There are gods, demigods, archons, titans, satyrs, centaurs, gorgons, and hydras, as well has human cultures loosely based on Athens and Sparta. The gods make war with one another, as do the various sentient beings that populate this classical corner of the Magic multiverse. The fact that Theros is only an approximation of the ancient world allows for more creative license on the part of the games developers than would be the case with a more strictly historically accurate depiction. If anything, this quasi-classical world might inspire players to look more closely at the historical period it is meant to reflect. In my view, this is a plus. There are many areas of popular culture--gaming included--in which the ancient world is represented with varying degrees of accuracy. Assassin's Creed is another prime example. For the most part, the target audience of such productions are not classical scholars, but the general public. Yet, for many people, film, television, novels, and gaming are their first point of contact with depictions of the ancient world. Academics, instead of dismissing them as "inaccurate" and "popular," would do well to pay attention to how how antiquity is engaged with by means of such cultural products. They provide important opportunities for learning and debate both inside and outside the classroom. So, this pre-release weekend, if you're a classics nerd or gamer (or both), you might want to take a moment to investigate or reflect upon Magic: The Gathering's creative and intriguing take on the Graeco-Roman world.
Growing up I would have never called myself a “geek.” In
those days, geek was a label one desperately wanted to avoid. Still, like many
80s kids, I enjoyed my fair share of Star Wars, G.I. Joe, He-Man, Transformers,
and Robotech. I happily acquired and played with related merchandise, although
eventually all such things were left behind as childhood turned to adolescence.
I didn’t think to keep them as “collectables” and certainly wouldn’t buy them
today.
As a teen I was more of a music nerd, spending most of my
time learning to play guitar, studying album sleeves, and (if I read at all)
reading books about my favorite bands. The bands I loved tended to be fairly
cerebral—Iron Maiden, Rush, Pink Floyd. It was music that helped me cope with
rejection and alienation in the early years of high school, two of which I spent
eating lunch not in the main cafeteria but in a classroom, the leper colonies
of the secondary school social world. As a social exile, it was music that
transported me into an imaginative universe of science fiction and fantasy. So,
yeah, I really was a geek!
This music also had a formative effect. If it wasn’t for the
songs of my favourite bands, I wouldn’t have encountered the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Animal Farm, or the story of Alexander the Great. Later in
life, I would pursue such themes as part of an academic career. As much as my
parents may have been puzzled by some of my musical choices, I can confidently
say now that they bore much important fruit.
Fast forward several years, I became a father when my son
Alex was born. (I’ll admit that both Alexander the Great and Alex Lifeson were
in my mind when I floated the name.) I knew that I’d be in store for something
unique when he entered the world on Halloween (Devil’s Night to be exact). Ever
since his birthday has been accompanied by imagination, mystery, costume, and
of course candy.
INTO EQUESTRIA
As Alex grew up I could see that he had a tendency toward
fandom. At two years old, after a cousin gave him a few die-caste Thomas the
Tank Engine toys, we spent the next several years on the Island of Sodor. Next
came Cars, the Wiggles, Star Wars, and even Doctor Who. The dialogue of entire
films was memorized and relevant literature studiously devoured. A couple of
years ago, however, Alex’s fandom took a rather surprising turn. A visiting six-year
old cousin exposed him to one of her favorite shows—My Little Pony. Alex,
as it turns out, fell deeply in love with the ponies of Ponyville—Applejack,
Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie. All of this was unknown to me until
his mom gave me a heads up about this new development. Alex, it seems, was
reluctant to tell me about this new-found fandom.
I had heard of “Bronies” prior to this—for those who don’t
know these are boys (and men) who appreciate MLP (as they call it). Like many
people I had dismissed this phenomenon as one of the worst examples of what I’d
considered a childish nostalgia culture. How wrong I was! A turning point came
when we sat down to watch a Netflix documentary called A Brony Tale. It
was an eye-opening and sympathetic portrait of the Brony subculture that
revealed in a profound way just what all these boys and men (some of them US
marines) saw in My Little Pony.
The key is this—the subtitle of the current MLP reboot is Friendship
is Magic. The premise involves a studious and magically inclined young pony
princess named Twilight Sparkle who is sent to Ponyville to learn the true
meaning of friendship. This she accomplishes not through her enormous book-learning,
but through often very ordinary interactions with her circle of friends. The
series is a thoughtful (and I’ll admit cleverly entertaining) portrayal of
relationship, loyalty, maturity, identity, and purpose. All values that
resonate deeply with the audience, many of whom feel like misfits and outcasts.
The Brony fandom binds a community together around a shared set of interests
and values.
The purpose theme is central to the MLP ethos. Each pony in
Equestria (the realm they all inhabit) receives a distinctive “cutie mark” when
they find their purpose in life. (The metaphor for puberty is pretty clear).
This gives each character a unique sense of identity and purpose that propels them
forward and gives their lives meaning. Few people would object to this array of
life lessons. It is certainly more than I took away from the stories of killer
robots and conquering aliens that I enjoyed at his age.
Yet, it is one thing to privately enjoy such an animated
series, even one primarily aimed at young girls, it is another to project that
as part of your identity. Today, Alex proudly proclaims himself to be a Brony
to anyone who will listen and he has multiple t-shirts and ballcaps that
re-enforce this message. It is this more than anything, however, that has
caused me the most anxiety.
One thing I’ve learned as a parent is that you relive your
own childhood experience through your kid(s). I, for instance, had a difficult
time in the first years of grade school, so when Alex was about to embark on
that path I was beside myself with worry. He faced his own challenges, to be sure,
but my perception of those challenges was colored by my own experience.
Similarly, as he’s entered middle school, I’ve been afraid of how his Bronydom
will be perceived. I’m acutely aware of how cruel kids can be. I know what it’s
like to be ridiculed, bullied, and socially excluded. This is the last thing
that anyone wants for their child, so I was terrified about how he would be
perceived as he leapt from the little pond of primary school to the (somewhat)
bigger pond of middle school. What assumptions would people make? Would he be
marginalized?
So far, these fears have been unfounded. In fact, what makes
me immensely proud is that Alex is aware of the possibility of negative perception.
He knows full well that Bronies are misunderstood and mocked by mainstream
culture. Still, he goes on undeterred. None of this prevents him from putting
his Bronydom on full display as an ambassador of all things Equestrian. It also
helps that he has found friends that share the same appreciation.
ENTER THE BATTLEFIELD
More recently, our journey through geekdom has taken yet
another turn. For a while Alex had been hinting at getting into some sort of offline
gaming, in particular Warhammer. As I quickly discovered, this would be
an expensive proposition even to acquire the basis tools of gameplay. Again,
Netflix intervened, when we happened to watch the documentary Enter the
Battlefield, which explores the world of Magic: The Gathering, a
popular trading card came. This, it seemed to me, could be a less expensive
alternative. (Oh, how naïve I was at the time!). It also seemed like a good
father-son bonding activity that would get us both away from screens and out interacting
with other people. Soon we had acquired our first decks and began to learn the
many, many rules of MTG (as players tend to call it).
Eventually we felt confident enough to attend our first “Friday
Night Magic,” a weekly ritual at local gaming stores where players “gather” to
cast their favorite spells. Our first experience wasn’t so great. In the basement
of the downtown comic shop, we met a group of mostly twenty-something hardcore
players. As newbies, neither of us felt very comfortable and left after a
single round.
A few weeks later we learned of another group at a small
gaming shop closer to home. This turned out to be a far more positive
experience. The group was immediately welcoming, encouraging of beginners, as
well as generally fun and friendly. It was also a far more diverse demographic.
Although predominately male, it includes players from tweens to 40+. All of
them are united by their common devotion to the game regardless of economic
background, education level, sexual orientation, or linguistic profile. I’m impressed
by the degree to which they’ve taken Alex under their wings, as well as their
sheer intellectual prowess. These are extremely smart people. Many players can
effortlessly rhyme off the stats and abilities of hundreds of different Magic cards
and create intricate spell combinations resembling elegant mathematical
formulas. Such complexity and skill can be daunting. In fact, I’ve sometimes
thought of giving it up. It can be disheartening to have three university
degrees and the ability to read seven languages, yet still be bewildered by the
intricacies of a card game. As time goes on, I’ve come to appreciate this complexity and embrace it as a challenge. Also, I’ve come to appreciate that it’s
not only about the game, it’s also about the community. Like the Brony fandom,
MTG subculture is about building relationships with other people. That’s what
keeps Alex and I coming back.
***
It’s easy to dismiss geek culture or to criticize it as
childish, but I think this misses the point entirely. At its worst in certainly
can be insular and tribal, although at its best it can create community and
connection. Moreover, it can also serve as a bridge between the generations,
where parents and children can connect over a mutual interest. Most geek
subcultures involve some form of storytelling. For millennia people have told
each other stories that communicate their shared values, fears, and aspirations.
When past cultures have done this, we tend to call it mythology or epic. But
one thing’s for sure, such stories have always been passed down from one
generation to the next. In the past, it may have been the story of Troy. Today
it could be Middle Earth or the Marvel universe. Although the content may
change, the function remains the same.
So, next time you see
pictures of parents and children cosplaying at a Comicon, or attend one
yourself, don’t be too quick to judge. We all “geek out” over something, be it
our favorite sports team, TV show, hobby, or musical genre. We just haven’t
label those things in the same pejorative way. Geek and fandom cultures may not
always be easy to understand. Sometimes our biases, fears, and anxieties get in
the way. Mine certainly did. But happily, I overcame them. At the very least,
they teach us something important about the inner lives of children, as well as
those who remain children at heart.
Therefore, in honour of my own original geekdom, I'll let Rush end the reflection with some words of wisdom:
