A boring lecture on economics and game design
August 5th 2009 02:10
“Discuss the importance of the Clock of the Time Dragon. Does the Clock simply reflect events, or does it shape them?”
-- Gregory Maguire, Wicked Reader’s Group Guide
Magic slang as it’s developed in the last decade assigned the rare lands from Ice Age and Apocalypse the name “pain lands,” because they deal damage as the price for colored mana. These days, the name is often shortened to simply “pains,” a seemingly innocuous abbreviation which hides an ocean of meaning. Some outlets, including OrbOfInsight.com, remember Ravnica’s overpowered rare lands with concern, but others disregard the game design implications of four-color decks with no bad matchups and are still waiting for those lands’ second printing. Not coincidentally, the term “pains” is most popular among that demographic; they are (were, since the lands in question are not reprinted in M10) playing Standard with pain lands, as in lands that cause pain, but also lands that are themselves a pain to put up with. But only until the Second Coming, so to speak.
If I seem harsher than necessary on Ravnica’s polychrome Standard environment and not harsh enough on Lorwyn-Shadowmoor’s, it is probably because I have extensive experience with that one. Besides, Lorwyn-Shadowmoor Standard’s various five-color decks were a phenomenon that Research and Development didn’t predict and which surprised them as much as it did the rest of us. But they knew exactly what they were doing when they designed Ravnica’s lands. A mistake is one thing; deliberately eroding the fundamental economic concept of opportunity cost from a game that is basically about resource management is another.
In Wicked, the Clock of the Time Dragon resembles an orrery, except that instead of simulating the movement of the planets, it controls puppets that re-enact scenes from audience members’ pasts. It is ostensibly for entertainment, but it causes heated and often violent reactions in everyone who views its show, because it addresses uncomfortable truths about their own lives and about the kingdoms of Oz. Unlike the Clock, Magic: the Gathering does not have an agenda, but it does have layers of meaning that can intrigue or inspire. (Ask me about this contention in relation to flavor text some time.)
The designers of Ice Age actually made two five-card cycles of rare lands, both of which have their own take on the concepts of opportunity cost and limited resources. Each of their designs is a reflection of a different way these problems manifest in the real economy. This makes sense: mana is Dominaria’s universal currency, the thing that lets you play creatures and enchantments; the game’s equivalent of the kinds of minerals people dynamite out of giant holes in the ground in the Northern Territory. (There’s even a nonbasic land in the Weatherlight set named “Gemstone Mine.”)
Though I don’t have a political blog (yet), I can nonetheless observe that the early 1990s saw rising general awareness of environmental and ecological issues, including those related to availability and extraction of resources. Some people started recycling soda cans to save aluminum; others took buses to save gasoline. I’m not too surprised that Brushland and Veldt were first printed in this intellectual environment. Last I checked, though, these problems haven’t disappeared from society at large; if anything, they’re worse now. But this may actually help explain the fact that Magic’s rare lands have moved away from demanding significant costs in recent years. Now that gasoline is $1.60 a gallon and Somalis in rowboats are strangling the supply lines, we would all like to hope that there is a possible future out there with abundant resources and space for everyone.
There’s only one problem. The Clock of the Time Dragon opened citizens’ eyes to the reality of their downtrodden lives and gave Elphaba, the “wicked” witch of the West, knowledge she needed to resist the Wizard’s evil forces. By contrast, Ravnica’s lands (and Eventide’s, and M10’s) carry the subtext that primary resources have nearly no cost. This message will, if internalized, lead to jarring cognitive dissonance the next time you pick up a newspaper and read about two African countries going to war over a gemstone mine.
Maybe this doesn’t reach you. Maybe you don’t care whether or not the entertainment media is socially responsible. If not, at the very least take this home to discuss with your player’s group: when any play can be made at any time without any opportunity cost, can you really call that a game?
-- Gregory Maguire, Wicked Reader’s Group Guide
Magic slang as it’s developed in the last decade assigned the rare lands from Ice Age and Apocalypse the name “pain lands,” because they deal damage as the price for colored mana. These days, the name is often shortened to simply “pains,” a seemingly innocuous abbreviation which hides an ocean of meaning. Some outlets, including OrbOfInsight.com, remember Ravnica’s overpowered rare lands with concern, but others disregard the game design implications of four-color decks with no bad matchups and are still waiting for those lands’ second printing. Not coincidentally, the term “pains” is most popular among that demographic; they are (were, since the lands in question are not reprinted in M10) playing Standard with pain lands, as in lands that cause pain, but also lands that are themselves a pain to put up with. But only until the Second Coming, so to speak.
If I seem harsher than necessary on Ravnica’s polychrome Standard environment and not harsh enough on Lorwyn-Shadowmoor’s, it is probably because I have extensive experience with that one. Besides, Lorwyn-Shadowmoor Standard’s various five-color decks were a phenomenon that Research and Development didn’t predict and which surprised them as much as it did the rest of us. But they knew exactly what they were doing when they designed Ravnica’s lands. A mistake is one thing; deliberately eroding the fundamental economic concept of opportunity cost from a game that is basically about resource management is another.
In Wicked, the Clock of the Time Dragon resembles an orrery, except that instead of simulating the movement of the planets, it controls puppets that re-enact scenes from audience members’ pasts. It is ostensibly for entertainment, but it causes heated and often violent reactions in everyone who views its show, because it addresses uncomfortable truths about their own lives and about the kingdoms of Oz. Unlike the Clock, Magic: the Gathering does not have an agenda, but it does have layers of meaning that can intrigue or inspire. (Ask me about this contention in relation to flavor text some time.)
The designers of Ice Age actually made two five-card cycles of rare lands, both of which have their own take on the concepts of opportunity cost and limited resources. Each of their designs is a reflection of a different way these problems manifest in the real economy. This makes sense: mana is Dominaria’s universal currency, the thing that lets you play creatures and enchantments; the game’s equivalent of the kinds of minerals people dynamite out of giant holes in the ground in the Northern Territory. (There’s even a nonbasic land in the Weatherlight set named “Gemstone Mine.”)
The Brushland cycle indicates that primary resources have a purchase cost. The Veldt cycle suggests that primary resources are limited in quantity.
Though I don’t have a political blog (yet), I can nonetheless observe that the early 1990s saw rising general awareness of environmental and ecological issues, including those related to availability and extraction of resources. Some people started recycling soda cans to save aluminum; others took buses to save gasoline. I’m not too surprised that Brushland and Veldt were first printed in this intellectual environment. Last I checked, though, these problems haven’t disappeared from society at large; if anything, they’re worse now. But this may actually help explain the fact that Magic’s rare lands have moved away from demanding significant costs in recent years. Now that gasoline is $1.60 a gallon and Somalis in rowboats are strangling the supply lines, we would all like to hope that there is a possible future out there with abundant resources and space for everyone.
There’s only one problem. The Clock of the Time Dragon opened citizens’ eyes to the reality of their downtrodden lives and gave Elphaba, the “wicked” witch of the West, knowledge she needed to resist the Wizard’s evil forces. By contrast, Ravnica’s lands (and Eventide’s, and M10’s) carry the subtext that primary resources have nearly no cost. This message will, if internalized, lead to jarring cognitive dissonance the next time you pick up a newspaper and read about two African countries going to war over a gemstone mine.
They have amazing art and collectibility, though.
Maybe this doesn’t reach you. Maybe you don’t care whether or not the entertainment media is socially responsible. If not, at the very least take this home to discuss with your player’s group: when any play can be made at any time without any opportunity cost, can you really call that a game?
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