The currents of cyberspace
February 2nd 2012 00:08
For in much wisdom is much grief; and he who increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow.
-- Ecclesiastes 1:18
Here on the internet, we devote a lot of time to “improving” Magic. We send Mark Rosewater and Aaron Forsythe tweets that they may or may not read, asking for information or for change. We argue about card design and set contents, too often slipping over the line of trying to claim that our personal tastes are somehow best for the game as a whole. And we publish dozens of articles about improving deckbuilding and piloting (their word, not mine) skills, ostensibly so people can lift themselves up and reach the Pro Tour someday.
But what, I wonder, are we actually improving? Lobbying the company can have results – I of all people should know. Consumers have real power, and it should be used, and used for good. But the rest? What does it matter if someone you’ve never met thinks a card is or isn’t good? Why do we need to know what cards and decks other people are playing, much less change ours to become more like them? The internet’s caused society, including hobbies like Magic, to become, paradoxically, both integrated and impersonal. People know what other people are doing and take an interest in it, but they interact with each other in ways that they wouldn’t dare in person.
Magic’s never existed in a time entirely devoid of the internet – even in 1993, there were a few discussion groups on Usenet and other primitive online fora – so it’s difficult to imagine what it would be like without it. The early years of Dungeons and Dragons might provide a clue. Despite there being no online advertizing, or indeed on TV or publications other than genre magazines, the game spread and became popular. Groups also tended to have highly developed, unwritten social contracts: if you acted like a jerk, very soon everyone would refuse to play with you. Contrast one of the common responses to the idea of social contracts in niche formats like Commander: “You play to win the game, scrub!” There’s so much information about Magic available now; but how much of it actually makes our hobby better, and how much of it are we going to wish we could un-read?
The Orb of Insight has a Twitter account. Hopefully you won’t regret reading it.
-- Ecclesiastes 1:18
Here on the internet, we devote a lot of time to “improving” Magic. We send Mark Rosewater and Aaron Forsythe tweets that they may or may not read, asking for information or for change. We argue about card design and set contents, too often slipping over the line of trying to claim that our personal tastes are somehow best for the game as a whole. And we publish dozens of articles about improving deckbuilding and piloting (their word, not mine) skills, ostensibly so people can lift themselves up and reach the Pro Tour someday.
But what, I wonder, are we actually improving? Lobbying the company can have results – I of all people should know. Consumers have real power, and it should be used, and used for good. But the rest? What does it matter if someone you’ve never met thinks a card is or isn’t good? Why do we need to know what cards and decks other people are playing, much less change ours to become more like them? The internet’s caused society, including hobbies like Magic, to become, paradoxically, both integrated and impersonal. People know what other people are doing and take an interest in it, but they interact with each other in ways that they wouldn’t dare in person.
Online mockery when someone posts about a creature like this may be unlikely to result in a punch to the face, but that doesn't mean you should do it.
Magic’s never existed in a time entirely devoid of the internet – even in 1993, there were a few discussion groups on Usenet and other primitive online fora – so it’s difficult to imagine what it would be like without it. The early years of Dungeons and Dragons might provide a clue. Despite there being no online advertizing, or indeed on TV or publications other than genre magazines, the game spread and became popular. Groups also tended to have highly developed, unwritten social contracts: if you acted like a jerk, very soon everyone would refuse to play with you. Contrast one of the common responses to the idea of social contracts in niche formats like Commander: “You play to win the game, scrub!” There’s so much information about Magic available now; but how much of it actually makes our hobby better, and how much of it are we going to wish we could un-read?
The Orb of Insight has a Twitter account. Hopefully you won’t regret reading it.
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Orb of Insight
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