My 11-year-old son has been obsessed with this Magic the Gathering game. On the one hand, it’s great, because it’s non-electronic and most of his friends play it as well, so they can spend hours playing peacefully and happily. On the other hand, it’s awful because when we lost power because of Sandy, my son asked me to play with him.
And I had to say no, because although I love board games, I am genetically incapable of understanding Magic the Gathering.
“Please, mom, let me teach you,” my son pleaded and I gave in. The things we do for our children. If only the pain of parenthood ended at childbirth.
But unlike with childbirth, there was no anesthesia for this particular pain.
I’m ashamed to say that this is the fourth time my son tried to teach me. I may need remedial assistance.
As far as I understand it, each player starts with a deck and 20 life points, and then taking turns, tries to kill each other with the help of mana. I don’t know what mana is, but the type I was holding had a picture of a tiny tree or maybe a bush and my kid convinced me that I needed two of them before I could turn the cards sideways and attack.
Does this make sense to you? Because not only does it not make sense, I also don’t understand how it is anything remotely related to fun.
What am I missing?
By the time the game was over, I’d been drained of the will to live. I don’t understand the point, I don’t understand the strategy and I have to wear my old lady glasses to read what the cards say.
To me, Magic is a huge snooze. But my son loves it. I’m just glad that his friends do too, so that I can be spared.
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