I’m Ranked #69 in the World at Magic the Gathering and I Hate Myself
Sometimes, winning feels like losing
To some, my life is a complete trainwreck. I’m unemployed, divorced and live in my parent’s basement. I have severe depression and zero prospects in life.
What they don’t know is that I’m the top #69 Mythic player on Magic: The Gathering Arena.
I’m better than 99.9999% of Magic players globally.
I’m a fucking god.
Why do I still hate myself?
16 months ago, I hit Mythic for the first time. I went from a loser in therapy playing control (I think so I can lose) to skillfully piloting Mono-Red aggro (I don’t think so I win). Since then, I’ve finished every season in Mythic rank for Bo1 Standard.
That’s not luck. That’s not even skill.
That’s process.
I don’t pick decks anymore. I pick win rates.
Every day, I look up the highest win-rate deck for Bo1 Standard, craft it and play it until the next deck takes it place. I love netdecking. Why reinvent the wheel when some 12-year-old kid in Japan has already solved the format?
It doesn’t matter what I play as long as I win.
Aggro Fling. Dimir Midrange. Izzet Tempo. Who cares? The sets change. The slop doesn’t. I rely on Wizards of the Coast being rational, self-serving capitalists to release new cards that are poorly playtested and full of busted abilities and interactions to encourage sales.
Every day, I log into MTG Arena and grind for 15-16 hours, slaving away on the ladder. I’m a professional, doing my job. And like any job, my mental state doesn’t matter - all I need to do is show up, put in the work and get rewarded.
Winning is routine. Routine is work.
I hate work.
It’s not my fault I had to remove all fun from the game I used to love.
Greatness has a price.
It just so happens to be $23,184 in credit card debt buying in-game currency, a total collapse in self-worth, and all the love and enjoyment I had for Magic The Gathering.
That’s a great fucking deal in my book.
I mean, does anyone even have fun playing Magic? Show me someone having fun on MTG Arena and I’ll show you a loser hardstuck in Diamond 1.
Mythic is paradise and I deserve to be there.
Why does it feel like Hell?
Sometimes, I see my reflection in the loading screens between matches and briefly wonder if I’ve confused achievement with purpose. Validation with meaning. Did I mistake the measure of rank with the target of being happy?
Could it be that ranked competitive Magic doesn’t measure my skill, creativity, passion, understanding or love for the game? That it just measures my masochistic tendencies, tolerance for repetition, compliance with the meta and willingness to sacrifice everything (including my sense of self) to win?
My opponent’s “Hello!” emote snaps me back to reality.
Hitting Mythic each month is all that stands between me and a complete mental breakdown.
By working backwards from the outcome without thinking about why the outcome matters, I break free from the prison of meaning and purpose.
Yesterday, my mother came down to check on me in the basement. “Honey, are you ok? You haven’t come up in over a week…what is that smell?”
I struggled to hear her over the screaming in my head.
“Please just talk to me. Are you even…happy?”
I laughed in her face.
Happiness is for people who need hope, who are weak. For casuals. It implies being content, satisfied and fulfilled with life.
I am not happy.
I am Mythic.
Why is the achievement keeping me sane also destroying my life?
Some people think I’ve defined my entire life, self-being and worth around a meaningless, external source of validation. That in trying to prove something to myself, I lost myself in the process. That I’m trapped by an extrinsic prestige that is hollowing out my intrinsic self-worth through an unceasing, bottomless need to prove myself to everyone but myself.
They just hate that I’m literally one of the best Magic players in the world.
What more can a man ask for?
No, I’m not in denial.
Denial is when you can’t see the truth. I see it perfectly: I don’t have a job, I’ve lost the love of my life, I live with my parents and have tens of thousands in credit card debt playing a game I no longer love.
Most people would quit.
Most people never achieve anything.
I’ve won by taking the magic out of Magic.
I can’t stop.
Well, I could. But then what? Rebuild my life from ground zero? Do you know how fucking hard that is?
At least I’m not a loser.
I keep winning but I’m fucking miserable.
See you on the ladder.
And they say that substack has no algorithm.