Village CannibalsVillage Cannibals | Art by Bud Cook

Hello and welcome to How To Be New, a series for people for whom Bracket 4 is cEDH and Bracket 3 is "one of these jerks is definitely going to make a hundred Treasure tokens, but if I pray and get my draws right, maybe something will happen." (Spoiler alert: It won't).

The topic for today's article came about very naturally, as I found myself for the first time having to CannibalizeCannibalize one of my decks. "Cannibalize," in this case means "to take a large swath of cards out of a completed deck as to render it unusable in service of a new deck that you're currently building."

I honestly thought it would be a pretty straightforward process. At this point, I've been getting better at cutting from decks I'm building and making tweaks to decks between Commander Nights. I've even been putting in 38 lands as a default! It really feels like I've grown tremendously from where I was at the beginning of my Commander journey just one short year ago.

So this should be easy, right? I've been avoiding playing my Flubs, the FoolFlubs, the Fool deck for some time, as I've found it to be entirely too durdley (durdley decks are self-involved, prone to long turns with rigorous piloting demands that don't affect any other player's board state, and often extremely boring to play against).

And as I've already landed the OmniscienceOmniscience and exile combo that allowed me to play my whole deck in a single turn and win with Laboratory ManiacLaboratory Maniac, there simply wasn't much more I could do with it.

Moreover, ever since I got her in a pack at a Final Fantasy prerelease event, I've been dying to build a Tifa LockhartTifa Lockhart deck. She instantly reminded me of one of my favorite cards, Devilish ValetDevilish Valet, because when I see an effect that doubles a creature's power until end of turn, the part of my brain that developed a physical dependency on Balatro lights up like the Vegas Strip.

And needing to put multiple lands into play to drive that mult past Jumbo CactuarJumbo Cactuar seemed like just the sort of janky challenge I love to take on (which, by the way, it's high time for the cowards at Wizards of the Coast to finally release a card whose stats require the use of scientific notation. Let's crank this game to "e11" and see what it can really do).

As I finally sat down to build her and checked the EDHREC recommendations, I saw a lot of cards I recognized from my Flubs deck. And from that moment, the process towards cannibalization was inexorably set in motion. But it really took some twists and turns that I didn't see coming. Let me quickly document the steps for you, so you'll be prepared when the time comes for you to do the same.

Step 1: Deny That You Need to Cannibalize Your Deck At All

"Ok, for sure, Azusa, Lost but SeekingAzusa, Lost but Seeking and Loot, Exuberant ExplorerLoot, Exuberant Explorer and Wayward SwordtoothWayward Swordtooth are cool and all, and they'll let me play four lands on my turn, plus any I can scrounge together from other ramp spells. And that would give Tifa 16 power minimum, which is a great start. But there's probably another way I can make it work, right?"

This will likely be your first inclination. Cannibalizing a perfectly functional deck feels like not only a lot of work, but a lot of work that's undoing good work that you've previously done!

If you're like me, at this point you've probably brewed some decks that did NOT work out. Heck, I've even played some precon decks that didn't quite come together. This deck works! It wins! Sure, it isn't fun to play or to play against. And yes, I do desperately need some of its foundational cards for this new deck that I'm excited about. But surely I can have my cake and eat it too, right?

After surveying my collection, I found it relatively bare on great land ramp cards. So, with a sigh, I embarked on the #1 solution to any problem in Magic: buying more cards.

Step 2: Get Mad at the Prices For Duplicate Singles on the Secondary Market

"Wait, what if I just bought extra singles to keep both decks intact. Okay, huh, Azusa by herself is like $14. Woof. That's rough. Well, the others aren't terrible, but I definitely want this new Icetill ExplorerIcetill Explorer from Edge of Eternities and that's another $17? Somebody needs to tell Prof that actually the singles market is fully out of control."

If you're alive right now, chances are you've noticed that your budget is much tighter than it used to be. With a new set every month and a half, it's getting tougher and tougher to keep up with the economic demands of being a Magic player.

Eespecially if you love Avatar: The Last Airbender (and I do), you might be reluctant to spend too much on cards right now. When you add into that equation the fact that you'd be spending money on cards that you already own, it can easily become too much to bear.

When I was finished browsing for replacement pieces, as well as a few new support cards I hoped to add to this deck, I was approaching a total that legitimately gave me the thought to maybe just buy one of those busted Warhammer 40,000 precons instead. Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed, and I was sent back to my Flubs deck to see exactly what I thought I could spare.

Step 3: Try to Make Compromises That Would Keep Both Decks Alive at the Low Cost of Your Spare Time and Sanity

"Okay, maybe I could just make a list of the duplicate cards between the two decks and transfer it between deck boxes to the one that currently has those cards so that I could easily switch them back and forth. Or maybe mark those cards with some sticker or something inside the sleeve. Ooooh. Maybe I just keep those cards in a third, separate deck box, and shuffle them into whichever deck needs them! Roman, you're a genius."

At this point you'll be willing to justify some pretty heinous ideas to yourself. The sunk cost fallacy has taken hold of you with both hands, and it's nowhere near letting go. You'll concoct scheme after scheme, each less practical than the last, in service of this deck that you really don't like playing.

Why is that, by the way? Why is this deck so important to me? Well, it doesn't actually matter now, because I'm gathering some extra empty sleeves to leave in my Flubs deck box to remind me to replace those cards before I play. Oh, I can even write on the back of each sleeve which card is supposed to go in there! That'll only be a meticulous sorting and re-sleeving of 30 cards between each game.

Huh. Okay. When I put it like that it sounds like a lot.

What am I even doing?

Step 4: Sadly Contemplate the Repercussions of Dismantling This Deck

"I'm really gonna miss Flubs."

I took a look at my Flubs, the FoolFlubs, the Fool. I could remember exactly how I got him. As I was just starting out, one of my best friends, who happens to work at my FLGS, sifted through a pile of giveaway cards and extricated this friendly looking frog from the bunch. "Here, do you know Flubs?" he asked, handing me the card. "I think he's very much your vibe."

I remember the first time reading his effects. I remember the excitement and bewilderment I felt at the swirling mix of words on this card. My mind was immediately awash with possibilities as I gratefully, carefully, tucked him away into a deck box.

Now I'm sifting through the rest of the cards in this deck. There's so much Doctor Who in here. That's right, it's from the Paradox Power precon. I remember opening it on Christmas morning. I remember the excitement I felt as I described to my brother my plans for using these cards to rocket my Flubs deck to the moon.

I can remember how excited and supportive he was, using every single ounce of his passing knowledge of both Doctor Who and Magic: The Gathering to engage with me and follow along. I remembered the bewildered acquiescence of my parents who had bought it for me. Though I'm sure they were not thrilled at having spent real money on a bunch of cards for their 32 year-old son, they were genuinely pleased to see me so happy.

If I took this deck apart, wouldn't I be letting them all down? They gave me these things as acts of love. Isn't dismantling it a betrayal of that love? And of the love and care I put into constructing it?

The outsized wave of emotions made me acutely aware of the fact that it was well past 2 a.m. at this point. So I left those piles of cards sitting on my desk (if there isn't at least 200 Magic cards sitting on my desk at any point, assume I've been robbed) and I went to sleep.

Step 5: Accept Cannibalization as a Necessary Part of the Cycle of Life

"Yeah, it's time to say goodbye."

When I came back the next day, the whole thing happened without much fanfare. I rifled through that Flubs deck, taking out probably 25 ramp cards that would go perfect in my Tifa deck. I moved them from one deck box to another. And then I somberly, almost ceremoniously, tucked Flubs into a white cardboard box marked "Commanders."

Then I surveyed the whole of my Tifa deck, which, whoops, was at 110 cards. Hmm, which of these can I cut? A couple of these removal spells could probably go. Oooh. Maybe I should add a bit of +1/+1 counter support to power her up from turn to turn, with the added benefit of a little extra card draw. And just like that my lizard brain had shifted back into the pleasures of deck construction. And all was good again.

Looking back, it almost seems ridiculous the amount of emotion I'd poured into this collection of 100 cards. But this is an emotional hobby. If Magic no longer makes you feel anything, then maybe it's time to take a break.

What I'd underestimated is the pleasure of having Flubs tucked away in that box, ready to spring into action when the time comes. Maybe he'll arise to lead a coalition of Earth, Fire, and Water Nation to glorious victory when those Avatar cards come out next month. Heck, looking at him, he's practically a Ninja Turtle. Maybe he'll fit right in with the boys when they hit the streets next year.

Whatever the future holds for my Flubs, I know two things:

1. It will be wonderfully dumb.
2. He absolutely won't see it coming.

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