I'll be honest: I was planning to write an article entirely satirical and sarcastic around some "good" decks that, clearly, weren't up to snuff; the kinds of piles that make those of the competitive bent turn their noses and reach for camphor.

Not that any of the obvious tone change would have tipped them off that something was amiss.

I've been reading a lot of Geordie Tait recently. For better or worse (likely better in this case) he's quickly earned my respect as someone with both a unique, engaging voice and someone who can pull off serious sounding sarcasm without cracking. I had written about half my article before I realized that instead of riffing on a great style to read I was droning with forced puns and obvious non sequiturs.

I'm not Geordie Tait and dishing a weak hack of his style isn't just foolish: it's brazenly backwards and hurtful. Not to him, mind you – his skin seems way too thick to be struck as off-put by a far away writer from a completely different world – but you.

Would you like to read some awkward words about a concept I can relate within my natural and, hopefully, more engaging tone? Which brings us to another excellent question: What is the concept I wanted to get into?

Bad decks and why so many of us love them.

The Bad

A "bad deck" can have a lot of different meanings for a lot of different players. I'll frame this in a fairly straightforward way: a bad deck is any deck that fails one, and likely more, of the modern principles of deck construction or game execution.

What?

That is to say a deck that is not exemplifying one of the following principles:

• Consistent (in draws, attempting to win, etc.)
• Tuned to deliver victory under an assumed metagame
• Includes the obvious and powerful cards within a format
• Tournament-caliber (designed for competitive play of any type)

You get the drift: a deck that isn't one for Mike Flores and others. I'm talking about every other kind of deck, from the first deck a new players would construct from a few booster packs (or an Intro deck) and a Deck Builder's Toolkit to the intentionally maligned and constructed EDH decks some of my so-called friends Insist upon creating and playing. (Wild Evocation is certainly flavorful but, really, in the right hands and format it's as busted as Hypergenesis and Show and Tell, except repeatable.)

Bad decks are the meat and potatoes of the "casual player stereotype" as these are the kind of decks players naturally create when they aren't applying any specific competitive bounds as an optimization exercise. The laissez-faire style of deck construction isn't a stage that players grow out of or an indication of lack of basic understanding of deck design: it's a different approach resulting from a different set of values.

The Good

Bad decks work and play differently than "good decks" for the same reason transportation options vary wildly: it's a different answer to one question: "How do I want to get there?"

Competitive decks want to use the best means of transportation: direct Flight, then routed Flight, then bullet train, then train, then personal vehicle, etc. If matter transporters (those fantastic pieces of machinery from Star Trek) existed that would be the preferred mode: fast, efficient, and direct.

Everything else isn't looking for the same thing. "How do I want to get there?" isn't merely a consistent speed but instead a journey. Trains and cruise ships are excellent for those looking to see and experience things along the way: the path is as much, or more, the goal than the destination.

It's not that getting there isn't the desired outcome or the ultimate point of taking the trip, but that the experiences that exist only along the way are included in the calculation. Taking a quick look at the three Magic psychographic profiles reveals that this is exactly how different players work:

• Spike wants to prove something. Getting there the fastest, and most efficiently or consistently, is solid.
• Timmy wants to experience something. The destination can be amazing but if there are other interesting things along the way then actually getting to that destination can be a second priority.
• Johnny wants to express something. The destination picked, the method of travel, and the stop-over points along the way are all intentional and geared towards a desired package. They may not be the hot spots Spikes demand or the welcomingly warm locales Timmies prefer, but Johnny is selling a complete package of both: where you're going and what you're doing along the way.

Each way is distinct and comes with its own set of positives and negatives, and the "correctness" of one or another isn't up for true debate: you simply choose which you prefer. And these paths aren't mutually exclusive either but are mostly treated as though they are.

The Ugly

And here is where I stop pretending and start getting real: most of us have no intention of everychanging how we're travelling. Part of it is habit, a powerful thing thanks to our natural biochemistry. Why would you ever want to switch to a public bus service when you're already driving to your own personal parking space at work? And if you're happy with the bus why spend the extra money, and share the additional risk, of driving every day?

In fact, the driver with parking is probably looking down upon the "suckers" who have to ride the bus; the bus riders are probably complaining about the environmental impact of self-commuting in an automobile, among other less savory ideas.

We see this all the time in Magic. The originating concept of "mise" and the common catch-phrase "Must be nice." are idiomatic themes that permeate many interactions. "My opponent is/was a lucksack." "Turn 2 Emrakul is dumb." "Draft is so much better than Sealed." "EDH is for whiny babies."

I've heard all of those things. And I think they're all right in some ways.

I'll share something that is somewhat secret and somewhat obvious through deduction: I score as both a Timmy and a Spike. I like "awesome" things that are awesome for the sake of being awesome. I like winning and proving I am a competent player.

And I especially desire to prove I'm a competent player by winning with awesome things.

What this means is that I alternate between two extreme: careless and careful, with an ample muddling of both concepts. It creates an environment where I'm constant self-handicapping and empowering myself.

• I don't run the Eldrazi in any of the EDH decks I have built because I recognize their strength and despise how cruel the games become with them. I also metagame against Bribery.
• I don't build blue-based decks since every awesome card is either a Control Magic effect or forces other players to play around everything I do.
• I put Wasteland, Strip Mine, Mind's Eye, Sensei's Divining Top, and other staples into every deck I can to ensure I have answers and sources of card advantage.
• My favorite EDH deck is Rhys the Redeemed and I play him on turn one 99% of the time; the other 1% is where I have Sol Ring in my opening grip.

My decks play fairer than some but are tuned to be as consistent and efficient as possible. While removing one land is a negligible delta in terms of improved card drawing (i.e. not drawing extraneous lands) the fact that my green decks rip an average of 8 lands out of the library ever games means that delta is no longer insignificant.

It should be no surprise that fatties and Greater Good are one of my favorite ways to draw cards.

I consistently beat "true casual" players and consistently lose to "true competitive" players. Like a wagon with a wheel missing I'm stuck in a rut between worlds, straddling the divide between "Play more competitive." and "Bring your pile of fun every Thursday."

I'm the guy that heads to a PTQ or FNM knowing what the decks are but consistently failing to bring my own deck to play. I take a cop out and avoid answering "Why aren't you playing?" honestly: I'm too loose to win and too "good" to let my ego slide with loses.

Real, Ultimate Truth

Yep: I'm a sore loser with a slight ego. Oh, I try so hard to Smother it. I genuinely try to stay as Humble as possible. But when I was gunslinging at Magic 2011 and Scars of Mirrodin prereleases and I was holding to around a 70% win rate I felt good.

I hate how random Sealed is but making the most of my pools was exactly the point I wanted to prove: play the casual guy and lose? Yeah, I saw some people a little upset about that. But when I dropped any Compulsion to build a "bad" Sealed deck and instead crafted and slightly tweaked my deck to be as close to optimal as I could make it, the fact that I won more games than I lose isn't very surprising.

And that's why part of me always loves to pick up bad decks. It isn't the fact that a tuned deck can win easier that excites me, but playing a deck that isn't as strong to victory is something that gets my heart pumping. Those bad decks I brew are pretty darned exciting to play out, each new draw giving me pause and making me Rethink what's going on.

Which is why that despite despising the randomness of Sealed I genuinely appreciate the skill and investment required to perform well playing it: I'm not a great Sealed player but I don't mind trying my best to scraping out a few wins that can only result from correct play.

And that's the ultimate point about bad decks: when you're within a shell of "suboptimal" and "awkward" cards using every resource in the best ways possible is a tall order for a player. Those are the situations I enjoy most, making "the play" with the unexpected or ignored.

Playing a bad deck doesn't make you a better player, but playing a bad deck while trying to win will force you to evaluate plays differently and approach what you're doing more critically. Of course, you can just play a bad deck however you want without regard to victory or defeat: the chaotic neutral of game alignment. But when I pick up a pile I generally feel the need to try my best and end up being rewarded greatest when it works out.

It doesn't always work out, obviously. But when it does oh man is it sweet.

I make back decks. I play bad decks. I play decks badly. But every full moon my bad deck comes together with my critical desire and the bad deck feels good. Maybe that's why so many of us enjoy these decks that aren't established in the metagame, tested well against a strong suite of expected challengers, tuned to handle the correct match ups and sideboarding situations, or designed with consistent efficiency in mind.

That or we just don't realize that the deck is actually bad at the time.