Magic: The Gathering has a vocabulary problem. Players can name a hundred sets, rank them with stars, and argue about which is the best. But ask anyone to explain why a set is good, and the answers start to stumble. A recent essay asks a simple question: what makes a Magic set good?
The answer, it turns out, is complicated. Really complicated.
Garfield’s Original Definition
The essay opens with Richard Garfield, who defined a set back in 1994 in The Duelist magazine. He describes a set as “additional cards for use with Magic: The Gathering decks.” The purpose is simple: to keep the game fresh and expand the world of Dominia.
That sounds straightforward. But the essay argues that the definition has grown more complex over time. A set is no longer just a pile of cards. It is also a cultural event, a marketing campaign, and a shared experience across the internet.
Why Judging a Set Is Hard
The essay points to a few reasons why it is difficult to judge a set. First, players buy cards piecemeal: singles, boosters, boxes. Few people see the whole set at once. If your playgroup only gets three cards from a new expansion, how can you judge it?
Second, the variability of a booster pack means that even a regular Limited player rarely sees the full picture. A set is a large collection, and you are unlikely to see all of it in a single session.
Third, the essay notes that Garfield’s original description omits an important fact about how Magic sets circulate. A set is not just a product; it is also a process. The release of marketing materials, story releases, prerelease tournaments, and the atmosphere surrounding the set all contribute to how it appears to players.
Fourth, the essay points out that Magic is played in many different contexts. Some players care most about Limited play, where the quality of individual cards matters most. Others care about Constructed formats, where the interaction between cards is what defines the experience. Still others care about the story, the art, or the social experience of playing with friends. Each context carries its own criteria for what counts as a good set.
Sets as Events
The essay draws on McKenzie Wark’s idea of “vectors,” transmission paths that bring things from far away. It quotes Pierre Lévy, who writes that the production and distribution of messages about an event “constitute a virtualization of the event.”
The example given is an election. The actual event happens physically and locally, but many people experience it virtually, through news coverage. The virtual version drives changes in their lives.
Magic works the same way. The set exists in physical form, but the experience of it is also shaped by previews, videos, commentary, Reddit threads, and web fiction. The virtual events are “laminated onto our act,” according to the essay.
The Dimensions of a Set
The essay argues that the difficulty of judging a set comes from the fact that there are many different kinds of Magic experiences. A set can be evaluated along several dimensions:
- The cards themselves — do they introduce enough interesting mechanics to keep Limited formats fresh?
- The world of Dominia — does the set expand the lore in a compelling way?
- The marketing and story — does the prerelease, commentary, and web fiction create a sense of anticipation and engagement?
- The community — does the set foster discussion, creative deckbuilding, and shared moments?
That means a set can be good for one person and bad for another, depending on what they want from Magic. A player who cares most about Limited might dismiss a set for its weak commons, while a player who follows the story might praise the same set for its world-building.
The “Hat Set”
One of the essay’s targets is the concept of the “hat set.” The essay calls it “one of the most pernicious abstracting judgments of the contemporary Magic era.” The term refers to sets that are judged primarily on their visual design, particularly the colors used on the cards’ borders or foils. The essay argues that this kind of judgment oversimplifies what actually makes a set good.
The Problem With Star Ratings
Online commentators often toss around quick star ratings for sets. The essay argues that these ratings are easy to produce but hard to justify. Without a clear vocabulary for describing what makes a set good, these ratings feel arbitrary.
The essay’s own conclusion is that it is incredibly difficult to explain a set in its totality, much less judge it. There are a diverse array of possibilities for describing a set, and they depend on how we even conceive what a set is.
What the Essay Suggests
The essay does not offer a definitive answer to its title question. Instead, it offers a framework for thinking about the problem. It encourages readers to consider the different dimensions of a Magic set and to recognize that each dimension can be evaluated on its own terms.
“If the set looks good and plays well, it’s good. Right?”
That question, the essay suggests, is not necessarily right. It depends on what you mean by “good.”
The Takeaway
The essay is a reminder that Magic is a complex phenomenon. It is a game, a collectible, a cultural artifact, and a social activity. Each of these aspects contributes to the value of a set, and each can be evaluated separately.
The essay’s argument is that the current vocabulary for discussing sets is too limited. It suggests that examining the idiosyncrasies of how sets are conceived can help expand that vocabulary.
The essay does not settle the question of what makes a set good. It simply makes the case that the question is worth asking, and that the answer is not obvious.
That is the point. Magic has been around for decades, and we still do not agree on how to talk about it. The essay is a small step toward making that conversation richer.
It is a modest goal, but it is a useful one. The more precise our language, the better we can understand what we love about this game.
The essay ends with a note that the experience of a set comes from looking at previews, engaging with promotional videos, reading commentary, and letting the set play on your imagination. That is the whole package.
The essay’s title, “I Have No Idea What Makes a Magic Set Good (You Probably Don’t Either),” is not a confession of ignorance. It is a recognition of the complexity of the thing. Magic is a game, a story, a community, and a collection of objects. It resists simple judgment.
The essay does not resolve the question. It simply acknowledges that the question is hard. And that acknowledgment is itself a kind of insight.
Source material: “I Have No Idea What Makes a Magic Set Good (You Probably Don’t Either),” Hipsters of the Coast.
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