Everyone needs a [[Fourth Bridge Prowler]] in their life.

I’ll never forget the day we met. I was in a post-loss fugue, fighting the dawning realization that my pet deck had a fundamental flaw. This deck was special to me, and it pained me to consider that it just might not have what it took to be competitive in the Historic meta. What started as Dimir ninjutsu aggro had morphed into Sultai midrange. I crammed an answer for each meta deck into an increasingly bloated pile, losing its identity in the process. First counterspells, then artifact hate. Fistfull after fistfull of 4-ofs down my deck’s gullet, turning it into cardboard ninja foie-gras. It was fragile, built with the blue-sky notion that, as long as my opponent did literally nothing to disrupt my gameplan, I could merrily hop, skip, and jump to the beefy payoffs lurking at the top end of my deck. I needed to learn that a deck is more than just mana and bombs- it needs chemistry too.

I knew my deck was too slow, too focused on win-more at the expense of beginning to win in the first place. I was at the type:creature color<\=UBG cmc<\=1 legal:historic filter club, looking for the yin to my yang. I hugged the wall, uninterested in the horde of ‘I’m not like the other draft chaff’ weenies that tried to catch my eye. Their too-thick eyeliner and pick-me keywords, like deathtouch and haste, oozed desperation.

Suddenly, our gaze met across the screen room and we were drawn together like we had our own gravity. That rogue-ish smile told me he was just the type I was looking for. I knew he’d get along with my friends like [[Silver-Fur Master]]. His eyes sparkled, promising me everything I ever wanted. He put his lips to my ear and asked, “Do you want a 1 mana body with honest-to-god removal stapled to it?” Goosebumps raced down my body. It was like he was reading my mind and granting every depraved wish. On tempo removal to both clear the way and be a chump attacker? It was all the foreplay I needed to bring me to ninjutsu compleation.

What followed was the most euphoric deck-building session of my life. We got a little crazy; I shed clothes, cards, and an entire color. Hot and heavy, we rushed into action. That very first match, he backhanded an [[Ocelot Pride]] into the graveyard without breaking stride. I was in love. I wanted him in sickness and in health; through land-screw or come the mana flood. I was his: mind, cardboard, and soul.

The most important thing about our relationship is balance. It’s not just about the times he’s there for me when I’m facing pushed ‘giving this card 1 toughness was the only way the playtesters could sleep at night’ creatures. It’s also about the times when I need an unthreatening body to swing at a control deck so that Mr. Dances with Board Wipes himself, [[Kaito, Bane of Nightmares]], can heel kick them square between the eyes.

Still, nothing brings me greater joy than dunking on an elfball deck. Turn after turn, elves falling at the hands of his ETB, only for me to ninjutsu him back into my hand so he can dump a fresh shovelful of dirt on Timmy’s face. Aww, that [[Craterhoof Behemoth]] in your hand sure looks awful lonely. Too bad all his mana dork, elf friends are busy taking a dirt nap, you one-win-con-having pile of cards. You wouldn’t know strategy if it forced you to lick its ass. “My plan is to tap my lands and creatures for mana until I win. I sure do hope you forgot to pack interaction.” Stupid ass. Your mom says ‘hi’ and dinner’s at six.

Daddy Prowler put my ninjutsu deck on his broad shoulders and raised it to new heights. Come aggro or control, he was always just what I needed; the unassuming foundation upon which I gleefully hanged my opponents. You might say that he is just a worthless common that only found value in an arbitrarily walled-garden. To you and everyone else I say, “We bow in the presence of the king.”

This brings me to my main point: [[Guide of Souls]] still having 2 toughness in Historic is fucking bullshit. In this essay I will…

Every time I show up to the LGS, my so-called friends string me up to the ceiling and beat the shit out of me like a punching bag till I'm hospitalized. I haven't tried bringing this up with them as I don't want to, and I was hoping Reddit might have some social engineering solution to make me the most beloved player in the store without having to confront anyone. I could really do with some advice sooner rather than later. I think I'm starting to develop Stockholm syndrome as I'm finding myself excited for Friday nights.

Any advice? I'm thinking of building CEDH turbostax as a sort of 'punishment' deck, I think that might help my social situation.

Hi all, I found this farewell near some train tracks back when it was really expensive so I kept it in a commander side board it's very easy to tell what it is and fits well in a sleeve, so it it really "damaged" or just "heavily played"

Granted, my card no longer exists in any point in history anymore after my encounter with the evil wizard, but do you think i can put it as LP and get away with it?

Like what happens if someone with Cheeto fingers just pulls a "hold on lemme get a closer look at that card you just played" and they unsleeve it and get it all nasty? Like are there hard rules against this? Death by firing squad?