Shield of KaldraShield of Kaldra | Art by Donato Giancola

Alexander Nathan has been playing Magic: The Gathering since his schooldays in Limburg. He's 37 years old, lives in Belgium with a progressive congenital muscle illness, and is the founder of Permastunned Gaming, as well as a disability advocate who has advised the Special Olympics, the Asian Electronic Sports Federation, Logitech G, and Intel.

This interview grew out of a post he made on Reddit about accessibility barriers in paper Magic.

Alexander shared his story below with EDHREC.

Who is Alexander Nathan?

I am 37 years old and I have a congenital myopathy. That basically means I was born with a genetic condition that makes my muscles weaker over time, slowly but inevitably. I am also the founder of Permastunned Gaming, an esports clan for disabled people, and that is how I became a disability advocate specializing in accessibility and inclusion in esports.

At first glance, it may seem like a niche space. But to do this work well, I had to learn about science, history, politics, and more. Having a background in psychology certainly helped. If you want to bring about real change for disabled people, you need an all-encompassing approach. Disability touches every aspect of life. There are no silver-bullet solutions, although there are specific measures that can make a meaningful difference. Those practical measures are usually my focus when advising organizations.

For example, one of the major struggles disabled people face is financial strain, especially when living on disability benefits. One thing organizations can do is organize online tournaments specifically for disabled players. Logitech G has done this, and it has allowed some participants to afford better equipment. That said, disability benefits often come with restrictions on taxable income and in some countries even restrictions on capital, or the value of assets you own.

So while organizing tournaments for disabled players can help financially, it is by no means a silver bullet. Understanding these structural limitations is what makes politics so important. That is why I am also a member of a large Dutch political party, where I advocate for policies that make esports more accessible for disabled people.

Regarding my experience in this field, organizations that reach out are generally very interested in creating a more inclusive and accessible environment. With politicians, it depends. Some genuinely care, but too many do not. At the end of the day, however, it is deeply rewarding work, and I believe we are slowly moving in the right direction.

How did you get into Magic?

A schoolmate named Derrick needed two people to learn Magic for a school project. He found the right candidates in me and Sergio. Derrick gave each of us a preconstructed deck. Mine featured a Seventh Edition Trained OrggTrained Orgg; Sergio's featured a Seventh Edition VizzerdrixVizzerdrix. Derrick told us that after each game, he would reward the winner with a card to upgrade their deck.

After only two days, he ran out of prizes...and we just kept playing anyway.

Soon other students joined in. We played during every break and free period. Many Fridays, we gathered at someone's house to run small tournaments among ourselves. Then Derrick told us about the prerelease for Darksteel. We went as a group, and it was an incredible experience. The prerelease promo, Shield of KaldraShield of Kaldra, remains one of my favorite cards to this day.

Derrick also introduced me to the local competitive scene and helped me build a Tooth and NailTooth and Nail deck. Standard has remained my preferred format ever since.

Those early memories tickled my competitive nature and are a big part of what motivates me to give competitive play another serious attempt now. I first dipped into competitive play during Mirrodin block in Limburg (The Netherlands), just across the border. The itch resurfaces every few years — it did with Bloomburrow, and again now with Lorwyn Eclipsed. This time, I do not want to just feel the itch. I want to take the plunge and give competitive Magic a fair try while I still realistically can.

Here’s the problem: the biggest barrier isn’t the game. It’s the physical spaces where the game happens.

What does the barrier actually look like in practice?

When I was in Fairbanks, Alaska during the Bloomburrow release, I picked up a prerelease kit from a store I could enter independently. If it hadn't been for holiday time constraints, I would have played the event there. The space worked. It felt normal.

Back home in Limburg, I checked every local store within reach — in Belgium and the Netherlands. None were wheelchair friendly. Not one. For Lorwyn Eclipsed, the best I could do was ask my father to pick up a prerelease kit for me. That contrast was stark.

The biggest issue, especially where I live at the Dutch-Belgian-German border, is physical infrastructure. Steps and stairs are obvious barriers, but the importance of accessible toilets and reliable transportation cannot be underestimated. These barriers are often more common at smaller, local events. Ironically, that means disabled players face the greatest obstacles right when they are trying to enter competitive play. Larger events tend to be more accommodating, but then travel becomes the problem, particularly when accessible hotels are limited.

These are not issues that a company like Wizards of the Coast can solve on its own. It takes a broader community effort. And it becomes even more complicated when governments fail to uphold accessibility commitments in public transportation. The U.S. government failed to meet its 20-year commitment to make Amtrak stations accessible by 2010 and faced legal action as a result. Belgium is repeating this mistake regarding accessible bus stations. Promises are broken even when the law is clear. These systemic gaps directly affect whether disabled players can realistically attend events.

Is it a problem of ignorance? Resources? Priority? All of these, or something else?

Some people might read this expecting me to take a swing at Wizards of the Coast. But aside from the general cost of the game, I do not have much to criticize them for.

Could they improve the visibility of accessibility resources? Absolutely. Right now, the Store & Event Locator does not include accessibility information for WPN stores. Even basic indicators, like step-free access, accessible restrooms, general layout notes, would make an immediate difference and encourage improvement. Prominently displaying disability-friendly store or event information would be a meaningful step. That kind of transparency would help.

However, the issues I see are larger than any single company. They stem from a broader lack of sustained care and urgency. The 504 Sit-in only succeeded when enough people decided that accessibility mattered and were willing to push for it. Structural change happens when people care enough to demand it.

If we want better accessibility in and around Magic events, that means showing politicians, municipalities, and local communities that this matters. In that sense, I believe Wizards of the Coast can be an ally. But meaningful change will require sustained collective pressure and collective will.

"Buses Are for Everyone," a photograph by Tom Olin from the 504 Sit-in (San Francisco, CA, 1977)

What about Magic: The Gathering Arena?

Arena has enormous potential for disabled players who want to enter competitive Magic. My focus here has been paper Magic, but Arena deserves its own conversation.

My advice to Wizards of the Coast would be to work together with AbleGamers, just as Psyonix did for Rocket League.

It would also be cool if Arena had a disability program to alleviate some of the effort needed to grind the free-to-play system. I don't think it would cost Wizards of the Coast much, considering that a lot of disabled people won't be spending their disability benefits there anyway. But, it would enable them a lot.

What is your definition of disability?

To understand disability, you first have to understand that humans constantly adapt, both themselves and their environment, to increase their chances of survival and success. The better you fit your environment, the greater your chances of thriving.

But adapting the environment requires collective effort. It takes energy, coordination, and political will. And when considering these are shared spaces, not everyone's needs are met equally in that process. Sometimes the gap becomes so large that personal adaptability alone is no longer enough to overcome obstacles created by societal choices.

An individual can buy a wheelchair to adapt themselves. But that adaptation only works if society builds ramps and installs elevators. Without those structural changes, the burden falls almost entirely on the individual.

To me, disability is the result of a failed handshake, where the individual is already overextending their arm, and society barely lifts its own. If people understand disability this way, they begin to see that it is not simply a personal medical condition. It is a relationship between the individual and their environment. And that relationship can be improved.

How did you become an advocate?

When I founded Permastunned Gaming, the goal was to prove that disabled people could go toe-to-toe with able-bodied gamers in esports. It wasn't originally meant to be an advocacy platform, but I kept receiving invitations to speak about accessibility and the inclusion of disabled people. That pushed me to properly educate myself on these topics.

It eventually became a pipeline that led me to join the Dutch Green-Labor party as a voice for disability issues. One thing quickly became obvious: disability representation is key. There is a reason the long-standing disability slogan is "Nothing about us without us." A more modern version is simply "Nothing without us," because disability touches every aspect of life.

And as it turns out, many of the issues disabled people face, also in Magic, are matters of local politics. I have seen this proven over and over again. When a disabled person gets elected at the local level, accessibility solutions actually start getting implemented.

So my advice is simple: champion a disabled person.

Vote for disabled candidates in politics. Elevate a disabled Magic player in your community. The more we are seen, the more people become aware of the challenges we face, and the more likely it becomes that meaningful societal change will follow.

What practical steps can the community take right now?

At the macro level, knowledge is power.

Regular surveys are essential for improving accessibility. Wizards of the Coast cannot effectively address barriers disabled players face if they lack structured feedback. Systematic data collection would help identify patterns and prioritize action.

The same principle applies locally. Stores and communities can survey their player base to identify concrete accessibility issues. A survey reveals problems. Problems create awareness. Awareness drives organization. With organized local support, communities can put pressure on municipalities to implement policies that make a tangible difference.

It is also important to map existing resources. Accessibility rights and support structures vary widely by region. In the Netherlands, there are discrepancies between municipalities that can determine whether someone qualifies for essential mobility equipment in one town but not in the neighboring one.

The United States is no exception. Some disabled Americans consider relocating states because accessibility policies differ so drastically. Accessibility protections like the ADA are important, but they are not the finish line. Progress can stall, or even reverse, if people assume the work is done. I find this a frightening thought, but with roughly a one-in-five chance of becoming disabled before retirement age, I suspect it frightens everyone.

(ed. note: According to reports cited by the Social Security Administration, estimates show the average 20-year-old American worker has a nearly 25% chance of developing a disability before reaching full retirement age)

That said, I do not want to lean on politics alone. There are community-driven solutions available right now.

The future is already digital. We can gather online. MikeTheQuad, a disabled streamer and accessibility advocate, regularly plays Commander online with friends. That raises an interesting possibility: why not organize a disabled league? It could begin online, lowering physical barriers, and eventually host finals in a deliberately selected, accessible venue.

Such an initiative would create competitive opportunities, generate practical knowledge about accessibility, and provide visibility for disabled players who aspire to compete at higher levels. It could also become a bridge to local play, helping people find their own "Derrick"; someone who introduces them to the scene and helps them navigate obstacles.

Macro change requires policy and pressure. Local change requires organization and initiative. Both are within reach if we decide accessibility is worth the effort.

What would you ask of event organizers specifically?

Reaching the top in any sport or game is no easy task, but at least the path is usually somewhat clear. For disabled people, that often is not the case, and that can be discouraging.

I would like to see high-level event organizers and the WPN provide guidance along the lines of: "Are you disabled and considering competitive play? Here are some resources, and here is where you can get more help." Make that information easy to find. Help alleviate some of the extra burden disabled people face.

I would also like to see a commitment to making events more accessible in the future. Large events should always go hand in hand with accessibility surveys so organizers can learn directly from participants. Choosing accessible venues with good public transportation and plenty of disability-friendly hotels would also make a significant difference. Scheduling fewer games per day, giving players more time to rest, would help as well.

Alexander Nathan (Photo provided)

A Final Word

If you are a disabled Magic player, living with a visible or invisible disability, what barriers have you faced? What would make competitive play of any format realistically accessible for you?