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It seems a lot of us have tales to tell about gaming and the types of asocial behaviour it can often attract when people lose.
Share your stories with me. Let spill the guts of the enemy. Lay on, MacDuff, and damned be him who first cries "hold! enough!"
Here's mine:
The year was 1995 (I was 15), and early MtG was in full swing. I was building tournament decks to try and be competitive, and since at that time I had been trading cards at the shop since Arabian Nights, I had a pretty strong collection to choose from at the time. Anyway, the tournament we were playing at had a restriction of one black vice per deck, one moxe or lotuses. This was too bad, since I had moxes and lotuses.
I was playing a basic land destruction powersink deck, and my first opponent was a guy in his thirties. The rumour mill had it that he lived in his mom's basement on Gabriola Island. Whatever his lifestyle, he had some source of income for MtG, because after I played my first turn and passed it over to him, he dropped two moxes , a lotus, a mountain, lightingbolted me, sinkholed my land and dropped three black vices.
I looked at him with my head cocked to the side, as you would a strange animal.
"Referee!" I called.
The referee came over.
"My opponent has an illegal deck," I said.
She looked over the table.
"Yup, that's illegal."
"Don't the tournament rules, which you read to all players at the start of the event, highlighting restricted and banned cards, indicate that players will illegal decks be kicked out?" (I probably wasn't this elegant)
"Well, yes," she replied.
At this point, my opponent--a thirty-something year old man--starts fething crying. He's CRYING. I just feel so embarrassed for the guy. I want to tell him to stop fething crying, gak, you're a grown man.
Somehow, the referee takes pity on him and allows him to remove the illegal cards to his sideboard and continue the game, which I lose, because I'm already behind in development. Bit of a snowjob for me, but there you go.
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