A lot of you reading this probably dream of making the Pro Tour. Personally, I’d rather have my writing get published. Some of you might just be looking for the perfect deck list so that you garner a few e-peen points from your peers. Regardless of what path you find yourself on in life, if you’re serious about your ends, you sometimes have to step back and examine your means from a non-biased viewpoint. With MTG players, this means networking, sharing your tech and deck lists, and working together to kick each others arses. Writing (or any kind of art, for that matter) isn’t all that different, as all artists utilize their own input as well as outside critique to create a more realized finished work. Proper critique isn’t something we can glance at and toss away because our ego won’t allow itself to be tarnished-it’s arguably what makes us who we are, in the end. Without humbling ourselves enough to admit our faults in the eyes of others, we’ll never win that PTQ, we’ll never completely work out the kinks in that Sharuum list, and we’ll sure as hell never get published.

But, as the cliché saying goes, everyone is indeed a critic, and the variance in the quality of their own output is incredibly wide. What makes critique the seemingly invaluable commodity we all need rather than a pile of crap? In a word, cooperation. Proper critique is executed in a manner that empowers rather than degrades someone’s efforts, and sees the potential that lay within the individual either through previous efforts or through sheer possibility. A proper critic will work with you to make you a better person, offering encouragement through refinement on both of your behalfs. It’s a relationship that can be grossly misinterpreted, but with proper maturity on both sides can result in some downright classy material. Bad critique differs from this in the sense that it’s sole purpose is to degrade and drain on a spiritual or emotional level in an attempt to stifle further efforts. It’s an uncooperative method that lopsidedly attempts to empower the ego of the critic rather than empower the community subjected to the work. Needless to say, this particular species of criticism is as common as blades of grass, and can be found on literally thousands of forum posts on the net.

Coincidently, both forms of criticism are necessary for us or our work to rise to our full capabilities. Criticism, regardless of it’s quality or lack thereof, is of vital importance as it keeps us honest, keeps us second guessing the sureness of our own opinion, and more importantly, reminds us that nobody is perfect. Were it not for the very critics I used to malign, I wouldn’t be known as the most hated man in the game, nor would I be writing for Mana Deprived-and it’s all because I started taking those warm, encouraging death threats and casual suggestions my listeners and readers sent in seriously. I can honestly say that every piece of criticism I’ve received has gone towards making me a better person, a better player, as well as encouraging me to raise my own self-expectations. I look forward to getting feedback on my decks and work now, as every comment brings me that much closer to reaching my dream. But sometimes, that critique is just a little too hard to swallow.

As anybody that’s listened to me on Monday Night Magic, Horde of Notions and other ‘casts knows, I like to play what the player base at large considers non-interactive decks. If I don’t spend at least 20 minutes in a single turn trying to win at least once a game, I consider the list to be inefficient. It’s not that I don’t enjoy playing with other people-socializing is the sole reason I got into Commander-it’s just more fun to goldfish, drink and converse than focus on the game. EDH is also one of the few formats left in existence where you realistically can build a deck that is capable of pulling off a win regardless of the board state or your opponent’s plays, so why not build something that I can enjoy, right?

If only it were ever as simple as that.

Vhat-Vhat in the Vhut By Jack LaCroix

General

[cardlist]Vhati il-Dal[/cardlist]

Dudes

[cardlist]Thought Gorger

Necroplasm

Fauna Shaman

Eternal Witness

Ant Queen

Stinkweed Imp

Greenseeker

Hermit Druid

Grave-Shell Scarab

Grim Poppet

Golgari Brownscale

Greater Mossdog

Genesis

Undead Gladiator

Golgari Thug

Thornling

Masked Admirers

Vigor

Grave Titan

Dark Confidant

Wickerbough Elder

Bloodghast

Acidic Slime

Necrotic Ooze

Golgari Grave Troll

Devoted Druid[/cardlist]

Sorceries

[cardlist]Raven’s Crime

Nightmare Void

Diabolic Intent

Cabal Therapy

Maelstorm Pulse

Worm Harvest

Life From The Loam

Buried Alive

Crush of Worms

Primal Command

Dread Return

Grim Discovery

Beacon of Unrest

Restock

Decree of Pain

Demonic Tutor[/cardlist]

Enchantments

[cardlist]Zombie Infestation

Sylvan Library

Bitterblossom

Greater Good

Necrogenesis

Oversold Cemetary[/cardlist]

Instants

[cardlist]Krosan Grip

Noxious Revival

Crop Rotation

Vampiric Tutor

Insidious Dreams

Realms Uncharted

Darkblast

Beast Within

Worldly Tutor[/cardlist]

Artifacts:

[cardlist]Birthing Pod

Crucible of Worlds

Sensei’s Divining Top

Skullclamp

Nihil Spellbomb[/cardlist]

Real Estate

[cardlist]Llanowar Wastes

Dakmoor Salvage

Verdant Catacombs

Cabal Pit

Deserted Temple

Mikokoro, Center of The Sea

City of Brass

High Market

Volrath’s Stronghold

Bojuka Bog

Slippery Karst

Gilt Leaf Palace

Barren Moor

Shizo, Death’s Storehouse

Urborg, Tomb of Yawgmoth

Bayou

Dryad Arbor

Wasteland

Vivid Marsh

Undiscovered Paradise

Reflecting Pool

Phyrexian Tower

Cabal Coffers

Svogthos, the Restless Tomb

Gaea’s Cradle

Forbidden Orchard

Gemstone Mine

Vesuva

Swamp

Forest

Vivid Grove

Ghost Quarter

Twilight Mire

Miren, the Moaning Well

Mosswort Bridge

Overgrown Tomb

Strip Mine

Polluted Mire[/cardlist]

In case you’ve never played against Dredge-style decks before, the basic plan is to pretend your library is the fresh prince of bel-dominaria and flip its world way upside down via dredging effects or the oh-so-maligned [card]Hermit Druid[/card]. Once [card]Devoted Druid[/card], [card]Grim Poppet[/card], and Derpington McDerp the Derp (AKA [card]Thornling[/card]) are in your Graveyard, play [card]Necrotic Ooze[/card]. Make a whole bunch of mana, put –1/-1 counters on your opponent’s guys. Do something with all that mana, like activate [card]Fauna Shaman[/card]’s ability via Ooze and pitch good stuff like [card]Ant Queen[/card] and [card]Wickerbough Elder[/card] to the ‘yard. Make a bunch of tokens, blow up a bunch of artifacts and enchantments, win the game with a giant [card]Golgari Grave-Troll[/card] if you’re so inclined. Backup plans usually revolve around getting [card]Worm Harvest[/card] into the graveyard and making tokens in a far less exciting fashion. This isn’t the most effective deck of it’s kind by a long shot, and I can say with one hundred percent certainty that I’m sure there’s some unsuitable card choices here (No [card]Quillspike[/card]? [card]Restock[/card] over [card]Regrowth[/card]?). Also, this is an incredibly risky deck to play. In a meta with little to no graveyard hate, this deck has the possibility to wreck havoc, but the statistical percentage of hitting hate in multiplayer is far too high for this list to ever be a serious contender. Despite all of its innate flaws however, this was a deck I’ve been meaning to construct for quite some time, and I’m glad I finally got a chance to play it.

It performed well enough, and even after the initial surprise was gone, I found I had enough resources to usually be at the least the second survivor at the table. The deck truly doesn’t care what’s going on at the table-unless somebody dropped [card]Tormod’s Crypt[/card] or attempted to combo off, my opponent’s plays were a non-issue. The board state truly didn’t matter, and it was mildly amusing to watch as my friends attempted to squirm out of every situation while I sat back and flipped my deck over. Having timed my dredging and [card]Dread Return[/card] resolutions properly, most games ended with my acquisition of a suitably intimidating board position-most of the time, getting infinite mana and looking up at their solemn faces was enough to seal the deal. Yet afterwards, I was unsure of my own tactics when a friend glanced over and said “That’s not a real deck, Jack.”

Puzzled, I looked up and asked what he meant. He stated that since I hadn’t interacted with the group in anyway other than to win, I hadn’t really played that evening, but was merely taking up space until I busted off, which goes against his ideas on what the format is all about. I thought this was incredibly strange of him to say considering the other incredibly degenerative decks I’ve piloted, and told him as much. He merely shook his head and pointed at the stack of cards in front of me.

“Yeah, but at least they DID something. That? I don’t even recall what you played other than Ooze and random land drops. Dude, scrap that thing. It’s not fun for anybody but you.”

Ouch. I’m not sure what hurt worse-what he said, or the fact he was absolutely right. While I had been having plenty of fun, I had accidentally made myself the biggest douche bag at the table, and pretty much spoiled the evening for everyone else. There comes a time and place to take your critics seriously, and when your own pursuit of fun starts infringing or crippling the rest of the group’s ability to do the same, it’s time to take the groaning to heart before you’re forced to find a new group. Swallowing your pride and opening your mind isn’t just the first step on the path to building a better deck, or playgroup-it’s the first step towards building a better you. And without reading and listening to the occasional jabs, jeers and cheers of your peers, it’ll never happen.

Some of you reading this are probably throwing your arms up in protest, as building a Commander deck is something of a personal affair, with our builds tailor crafted to our needs and play style, with a customization deep enough to leave even the most unique of our rank satisfied. I’m not going to argue that fact in the least, but you cannot toss aside the effect your choices will have upon your playgroup. Everyone enjoys playing the utterly lopsided, win-all-day-every-day combo deck occasionally, or the deck where you win off the back of a [card]Prismatic Lace[/card], but if you play something that severely warps the game to your favor, consider scaling back your efforts somewhat ‘lest your opponents doe the same and reduce the game to a bout of rock, paper scissors, or drop you entirely. Speaking from experience, this DOES happen. I missed out on Commander night for a month and was told it was because my friends wanted to play “real” magic with people who they were more evenly matched with.

Commander (specifically, multiplayer) is a format of the absurd, but is no less of a cooperative effort than the relationship between an artist and his critics. While the efforts of the one might have little pull on the others, neither should ignore the position their counterparts. Instead of stunting growth, all parties involved should work together to make their community as strong as it possibly can. Be there for  your playgroup by offering deck list advice, play tips, and if something they’re playing is especially annoying, tell them as much-the change your comments and critique have are limited only by your effort to utter them.

Until next time everyone, treat your group mates fantastically and honestly, and remember to pack that GY hate!