I spent my childhood in a cramped, dusty, strip-mall store owned by the legendary Shawn "Hammer" Regnier (seriously, click the link, it's hilarious).

How is this guy not in the Hall of Fame?

The store wasn't anything fancy, but we got at least thirty people at every Saturday-morning Standard tournament, even during snowstorms. I was ten years old the first time I battled a gym leader with my Blastoise deck there. It was still going strong when I "quit" Magic during high school—but it mysteriously closed down just before my comeback a few months later. It wasn't a perfect store, but I've never seen its equal.

These days, comic-book stores come and go like television series produced by Howie Mandel (how many episodes of Mobbed can we realistically get through before the novelty wears off?). In the time since Hammer's Comics became a nail salon, I've played regularly in at least eight locations, and visited countless others.

From an outsider's point of view, it appears keeping such a business afloat can be difficult. One successful store owner I've spoken to admitted he would never have made it out of the first couple of years without the money he was making in another industry. But what about those who aren't independently wealthy when they open a friendly local game store? Why do some make it, while others wither on the vine?

I'm in no position to talk business—my affinity for numbers is exceeded only by my capacity for exceptionally timely jokes (Did you catch all the Charlie Sheen jokes two weeks ago? Only several days after he was relevant!). But one doesn't need to be a baker to know there's something wrong with a pie. As a man who has eaten plenty of pies and mangled many metaphors, I know what qualities to look for in a game store.

Here are eleven of them, in no particular order; it is my belief that a store with low marks in too many of these categories will eventually fail. If you recognize that your shop is in danger, don't worry! I've included ways in which even you, the customer who loiters on the property for hours on end without buying anything, can actually help!

1. Cleanliness

It's a cliché as old as D&D: gamers have poor hygiene. While the perception of the unwashed masses tends to be overstated, it only takes one dude in a dingy tank top to stink up a small space. Hammer would prop the door open (even in winter) and spray perfume, but the locker-room smell still scared Adam's hot sister away the day she came to hang out. What might have been, if only Jim had a can of Axe . . .

Anyway, there isn't much the store owner can do to enforce the mandatory shower rule, but he is responsible for the state of his retail space. I've never seen a mop in one of these places. The laminate is always coated in shoe-scum from the Arabian Nights era. Every table has a sticky spot, which can turn into a disaster when combined with unsleeved limited cards. The day I find an owner who wipes down the tables every few rounds is the day I find the Holy Grail of game stores; but really, they could just give a kid five bucks in store credit to do it.

The biggest test of all is the bathroom. I plan on spending a lot of time in my game store, and I plan on eating Chinese food at least one of those times. I don't want that event to be made even more unpleasant by asbestos-covered pipes and someone else's seat-drippings.

The bottom line is that people do not enjoy being in a dirty environment. If people aren't comfortable in your store, they will not buy things. Apply a little elbow grease and you see your revenue increase. See, Mom? Studying poetry in college paid off!

What Can You Do?

Shower, clean up after yourself, and encourage others to do the same. This one's easy.

2. Structure

Organization extends beyond keeping the store tidy. I want to have the security of knowing what my experience is going to be like every time I enter the shop.

It starts with a schedule. If you advertise that FNM starts at 7:00 and we're playing Standard, don't tell me when I walk in that the event is pushed back to 8:00 and the people have voted on drafting. That kind of bait-and-switch infuriates me and makes me never want to go back.

Structure also includes having a round clock and keeping track of it. I can't tell you how many times the following has happened: Someone asks how much time is left. The owner glances at the clock, curses, and makes the announcement to begin additional turns. Not only does this compromise the integrity of the tournament, but it also makes the event go longer than it should.

I always liked that Hammer had a routine to start his tournaments. He would walk to the middle of the store and tell everyone to quiet down. Then, he would read off the names of everybody playing, and ask if anyone was missing. He would go over his spiel about the rules, penalties, and tournament structure, the whole time eyeballing the people who were known for breaking the rules. He was silently saying, "Erik, I've told you fifty times not to tip the seat back when you're sitting in it. If you do it again, I'll break your nose." I haven't had a T.O. with that kind of presence since.

This would have changed everything

What Can You Do?

Speak up. If you're sick of tournaments starting late, tell the owner that your time is important to you, and suggest that he push the official start time back if he's having trouble. I mean, things come up, and people are late sometimes—but the more you hold up the tournament for those people, the more the line between early and late gets fuzzy. Eventually, you have people saying, "Yeah, it says 6:00, but we're lucky if we start by 7:00." Remember that some of the people playing have to wake up early (or, in the particular case of Old Man George, work the late shift at 11:00 p.m.), and just because you can stay out all night doesn't mean everybody else can. Poor George misses the last round of half the FNMs he plays in, just because the tournaments are held up by two guys getting Taco Bell (okay, one of those guys is usually me).

3. Variety

Having a solid structure in place doesn't mean you can't mix it up. If you have Saturday Standard every week, how about sprinkling in some Pauper events on Sundays? One local store recently started having semi-regular "Drink and Drafts" after closing time, for people over twenty-one, of course. These kinds of events generate excitement and drive sales at times other than Friday night. They also serve to separate your store from the more vanilla offerings down the street.

How about some demos of other card and miniature games? If a store owner offered to teach me and a friend how to play Warhammer and gave us some introductory units, maybe I would get hooked and end up spending hundreds on the game. Plus, I would feel a connection to the owner for helping me out, and he would garner my loyalty.

It isn't a deal-breaker if a store only holds drafts on Wednesday and Legacy on Sunday, week in and week out—but it does make it more likely that I'll dabble at other stores. A little creativity shows that you're thinking about your customers. If you can't come up with anything, just ask what your regulars would like to see.

What Can You Do?

Make suggestions. I really, really like Two-Headed Giant sealed, and I mentioned it to one of the local store owners. He had a few other people had made the same request, so he worked out a date, and we had a successful tournament. Seth and I (also known as Myr Mortals) are still undefeated in the format.

4. Food Availability

Most game stores are centrally located, and as such are within walking distance from a variety of delicious restaurants. Hammer's Comics was right next to a 99, so Gold Fever Wings were only fifteen paces away at all times. Plus, after round one, Hammer would collect money from everyone who wanted pizza. I think it was $5 for half a one-topping pizza, with a free soda courtesy of Hammer. Those were the days.

When you find the exception, though—that one store that's a ten-minute drive from the nearest french fry—it can really ruin your good time. One of my regular stores, let's call it MTG Starvation, is in the middle of just such a culinary dead zone. To make matters worse, the owner won't allow outside food and drink, so you're doomed to the tummy rumbles—unless you order through him. He has a menu to a pizza place that delivers, and will let you eat the food in the store, but he charges way more than the food actually costs.

I can't tell you how bad I feel when I'm devouring that dry, fourteen-dollar burger. And seriously, why is there a Dunkin' Donuts next door that closes on the weekends? What kind of a coffee place is closed on Saturday afternoon?!

What Can You Do?

Open up a Denny's next to your favorite store. Failing that, you could assemble an envelope with the menus of a variety of different restaurants that deliver in the area. Ask around to see if people want to pitch in on some sharable food. If you're so inclined, find out how many people are interested in a scheduled lunch time (if you have large turnouts, it's probably best to skip this part).

5. Accessibility

I'm mostly thinking about the parking situation here. Stores located in a downtown area tend to have very limited parking, which makes getting there mildly annoying. Personally, I'm terrified of parallel-parking, so a store on a busy street with horizontal spaces can give me pause. Not a deal-breaker, but if all else is equal, I'll go to the store with the parking lot over the one with street-only spaces.

Perhaps it's obvious, but a store close to a major freeway does far better than one tucked away on a side street. Hammer's was right off a major exit, so we got plenty of out-of-state players when big tournaments came around. If you're looking to open a store in the future, keep in mind that location is everything.

One final point about accessibility: Stores that are closed on random weekdays drive me nuts. I know that it isn't worth the overhead to go to work on your slow days, but maybe you could find a way to get customers in the store (see #3). Even worse are card shops that shut down all day Sunday. That's prime time for hanging around and playing games! For me, buying cards is mostly an impulsive act, so when I finally can't take it anymore and must buy a box, it would be nice if the doors weren't locked when I get there.

What Can You Do?

Carpool with a friend who can parallel-park. If you're in a big city with a subway system, you could do a write-up for the store's website explaining the best way to get there via public transit.

Oh, and tell your store owner to stop honoring the Sabbath, unless Ozzy is involved.

Okay, or Dio

6. Prizes

On the list of reasons why I go to local tournaments, "Prizes" holds the number-two spot, just below "Seeing Friends" and right above "Marinating in Man-Stink to Enhance Flavor." It would take a lot of convincing to get me to draft at a place where the only prize is a backdraft (that is, taking your pick of all the rares opened in the draft).

It's not (solely) because I'm greedy. I just have more fun when there's something substantial on the line. For example, I cannot play poker without money involved. I'll just go all-in every hand until I get to go do something else. I wouldn't spin a roulette wheel all day just to see where it lands. I don't go around scratching quarters against blank pieces of cardboard. I'd never construct a ping-ping-ball-scrambling machine just to see if I can guess which series of numbers will come out (not more than once, at least). There is little enjoyment in the game without the gamble.

The main reason I keep going to MTG Starvation is because it has the highest entry fee, and thus the biggest payout. It isn't unlikely for me to walk out of there with $60 in credit after a big draft. The next-best payout among the local stores is $10 to the winner (money back), plus backdraft. Note that I don't mind a high entry fee, as long as I can see that most of the money is going to the prize pool. I know a draft set doesn't cost a store owner more than $7 or so, so a $15 entry fee means $8 per person goes to the prize. Sure, the owner can make a profit on the cost of the boosters (say, $3 a head), but I don't like when they charge you what amounts to a sitting fee for hanging out in their shop.

Last summer, I was spending a lot of time in a store we'll call Cheapskate Games. They had good turnouts for their limited events, but had no constructed presence. They were trying to sell singles, but weren't moving any product.

I suggested they start a regular Standard event, which would drive singles sales. I even printed up some fliers for them to put around the store, complete with a prize structure that had all the money from the entry fees being paid out in store credit to the top eight (pretty standard stuff, as far as I know). They scoffed at me.

"What's our take?" one of the owners asked me.

"Well, you're paying out in store credit, so all that money has to be spent in the store. You make some profit there, plus all the singles people will buy to play in the tournament. Not to mention the incidentals like soda, candy, boosters . . ."

"Well, you're dreaming if you think we aren't going to get paid to run this tournament. Change it to fifty-percent prize payout," she said.

That was the end of my involvement with the tournaments at Cheapskate Games.

What Can You Do?

This one is really about personal preference. If you don't expect to win very often, or just want to play for the fun of it, you should probably be playing in those backdraft-only tournaments. Also, you could come off as pretty skeevy if you keep complaining to the store owner that you aren't winning enough credit.

If you're at a store with low payout and you want more, or vice versa, you could ask the T.O. if he would consider running multiple flights. One table is the low-cost, low-prize option, while another one is for the high rollers. Of course, there has to be enough interest (and turnout) for something like that to work, but it's worth a shot if you're unhappy.

7. Leadership

Everyone appreciates a store owner who knows what he's doing. It's best if he's familiar with tournament Magic, but if he's more of a comic-book guy, it's acceptable for him to take on a separate tournament organizer. Pro Tip: Delegating responsibility is a sign that you know what you're doing!

Decide, Direct, Delegate!

Earlier, I mentioned that Hammer had great presence. What I mean by this is that everybody respected him as the authority in the shop. You didn't feel like people were going to cheat you or steal your backpack, because Hammer was there. It wasn't just his humongous biceps or his arm-wrestling championship title (though those certainly helped); it was the fact that he was active in the store.

Particularly in the early days, before he got Dark Age of Camelot and spent more time on his computer, Hammer would always be out among the tables, checking on the proceedings. He hired people to run the counter on busy days, and when he didn't have someone, he would wear a fanny pack with cash in it to complete transactions on the fly. Hammer was never uncertain about what he was supposed to be doing, and always answered questions directly. Most store owners I talk to these days are all "We'll play it by ear" or "Uhh, I'm not sure" when you ask a question about how the tournament is being run.

It helped that Hammer was a certified judge, and knew more than nearly anyone in the store about Magic rules. How many stores have you been in where rules questions have to be Googled, and even then the result isn't clear? For me, at least half a dozen.

What Can You Do?

If your store owner is a Magic noob, consider becoming a judge and taking on an active role in your shop. If you're not into that, you can still be a leader by helping to enforce the rules of the store. If someone leaves his backpack unattended on a back table, ask him if he'd prefer to leave it behind the counter where it's safe and out of the way. If people are using offensive language, call them out on it. Hammer would shout all the way across the store if he heard someone swear, threatening to kick them out if they did it again. You don't need to be so aggressive, but speaking up is a good idea.

8. Community

By far, the number-one priority for me when it comes to selecting which store to play at is figuring out who is playing where. I would play Magic in a dumpster every week if it were the only place I could get my friends to agree upon.

But before you can round up your buddies in a trash receptacle, you need to find people who you can convince to befriend you (I suggest bribes). This means building a Magical community.

To me, the community starts with the store owner. He needs to be a friendly, genuinely likable guy. One of the non-food-related problems with MTG Starvation is that the owner is a businessman, in every sense of the word(s). If you strike up a conversation with him about the new set, he'll go into a sales pitch about it. If you and a friend are talking about a particularly brutal Catch Phrase clue (Chichen Itza?!), he'll jump in with a hot tip about the new, low price on the Music Edition. He even requires a down payment of $10, which gets converted into store credit, just to hang out in the store if you aren't in the tournament.

Tell me, how is that going to foster a strong Magic environment? It just makes me uncomfortable and even hungrier. No, the best store owners make people excited to be playing games; they make introductions between players; they can chat about Dominion strategy for an hour. My favorite store—I'll call it Collectibles Unlimited, if only because that is its real name—has an owner named Mike who can boast all of these qualities, plus an awesome beard. You go to that store twice, and you're friends with everybody, because it has an inviting, happy atmosphere—and it all starts with Mike.

What Can You Do?

Brush up on your people skills. Every person who steps foot in your store is one friendly conversation away from becoming a regular. Prereleases are the best opportunities for this, because they tend to bring out the tournament-shy, so make sure you take off your game face when you go to one of these events. I usually end each match with a new player by saying something like, "Hey, it was great to meet you. You should come by the store on Wednesday nights—we do drafts." If enough regulars at your store have this attitude, it won't be long before you'll have a store full of people on Wednesday nights, and you have some new friends to go garbage-picking with.

9. Competition

I may like winning prizes, but I like winning them with honor. Playing Jund and beating up on kids with preconstructed decks all day just isn't worth the FNM foil.

A great Magic community has plenty of great players. I'm not saying you can't have new, unskilled players in your store. Someday, those guppies will grow into sharks—and in the meantime, they have parents who buy a ton of booster packs. Being friendly to and mentoring noobs is a responsibility that all regulars should bear.

But everyone wants to get better. Mastery is a great feeling, and in order to master your game, you need to play against strong players. Even if you're more casual at heart, think of it this way: You don't enter a "God mode" cheat into every video game you play so that you can walk right through to the end. Competition is fun! Pushing yourself to improve as a deck-builder and player is a big reason why most of us play. Embrace the challenge of playing against good opponents, and know that with every loss, you're becoming better yourself. Plus, when you finally best the villain with the Caw-Blade deck while playing your wacky Psychosis Crawler combo, the feeling will be a hundred times greater for the struggle.

What Can You Do?

Play better.

Oh . . . you want more than that? Well, there are six billion articles on the Internet about how to do just that, so you can start there. You can stop making excuses about people net-decking and getting lucky, and start learning how to beat them on their terms.

If you're the best player in your store, teach everyone what you know. You don't want to be a big fish in a small pond forever, do you? There's a whole world of PTQs for you to take on, but until those come around, you can hone your own skills by making the people you play with into better testing partners.

10. Extras

I'm a sucker. I've proven it time and time again. If you tack on a little extra charge to Commodity X and surprise me with Insubstantial Bonus Y, I'll be pleased as punch. For example, MTG Starvation has a little dice game that allows you to win a free snack whenever you make a purchase. The cost of the free snacks is more than covered in the inflated price of the initial purchase, but I still feel like I got something for nothing when those dice hit snake eyes.

Have a free raffle every week to give away some cards that weren't selling anyway. Include free sleeves with every tournament entry. Work out a deal with the sub shop next door to get your players free lunch. Of course, you have to charge a little more to make up for it, but it's practically invisible to the customer. Maybe I'm in the minority, but I love freebies, even when they aren't technically free.

I want to highlight one particular extra that brings me no end of enjoyment. One store I enjoy allows you to demo board games any time you want; between rounds, my friends and I pick out a game from the shelf and get to battling. I'm not sure how much money this practice actually makes the store, because for all the dozens of games we've tried, we've never bought one—but it certainly makes me want to go there for FNM!

What Can You Do?

This one is really on the store owners, but if you want to go above and beyond, you could bring candy and games to share with everyone. It would go a long way toward bribing people into being your friend, at least.

11. Atmosphere

Soft lighting. Cool, soothing colors. Marvin Gaye cooing from the boom box.

Not what I'm talking about at all.

It doesn't have to be extravagant or beautiful, I just want one notch above "strictly functional." I mean, if your store is decorated like the interior of a castle, that's fine, but I'm just as happy with white paint and carpeting.

Eh. Needs more Thor posters.

I'm not okay with the dungeon-esque, cold, unfinished basement that I've been playing in on Tuesdays. This place recently added a Magic-playing space to the back of their video-game store, which means they tore down a wall and stuck us in a cement prison cell. The signs advertising comic-book prices are literally just paper plates with Sharpie writing.

I'm not okay with playing in a "refurbished" garage that is actually just a garage with tables in it.

And I'm absolutely not okay with you running advertisements for your store over the speakers in that same store. On a loop. All day. I know you have a wide selection of Monopoly games. I'm staring at Pony-opoly right now!

Those are three of my four options when it comes to local gaming. Really, what's keeping these store owners from decorating their interiors like any other respectable business would? Or playing some soft, contemporary music? I'm not going to open a Starbucks in my attic with pink insulation complementing the metal fold-up furniture. I'd expect the same from any place asking for my money.

What Can You Do?

Say it with me: Passive. Aggression. If you have the means, write an Internet article detailing all the things you wish they would change, and hope that one day they find it. If you don't, stick to snarky jabs like, "You know what would go great with these concrete floors? Some drywall." Or maybe, "Are these comics two or three dollars? I can't read the crayon on the Styrofoam."

All joking aside, if an owner can't afford to decorate, he can't afford to decorate. You can complain, live with it, or leave. I would do all three, in that order, each for an extended period of time to see if anything changes.

What's in Store?

We all love our local game store. It provides us sanctuary from the cruel, sun-filled world outside. I'm lucky that I have my pick of six stores within driving distance; I'm sure many of you don't even have one. But they can do better—and we can help them.

Of course, the biggest way you can support your local game store is by showing up. I lost my sense of store loyalty the day that Hammer's closed, and now I am a cardboard nomad. But I wish it weren't so. There's nothing like the feeling of being at home when you're surrounded by thirty-five smelly strangers. Find the store with the people you like the most, and support it with your dollars.

You don't want to end up like this guy.

Brad Wojceshonek

bradwoj at gmail dot com

BJWOJ on Twitter