AN OPEN LETTER TO WIZARDS: DON'T WAIT UNTIL EVERYONE LEAVES Sharing an opinion on the internet is complicated. We are not always interpreted the way we intend to be, and perhaps that is why I thought long and hard before writing this. Over the past few years, I have been building a community of followers—wonderful people from different parts of the world. And even though I am telling my story, what I am talking about here is not really about me. It is about all of us. Dear WotC, The photo below this post shows three Standard decks. Yes, I built all three. I did it with a lot of effort, without taking a single cent away from my family's priorities. And I didn't build them because I intend to play all three. To be completely honest, with my current routine, I often only get to play once a week. I built them because I love this game. And because I believe that if Magic grows, somehow, I will grow with it. These decks eventually end up in the hands of players who, for different reasons, cannot afford to build their own. People who want to play. People who want to participate in a tournament. People who simply want to have fun with Magic. "Come on, Palhares, Magic is a hobby. Not everyone can have access to it." I agree, to some extent. But I also know that, in my country, players find all kinds of ways to be part of this game. Maybe there are players from other formats who want to try Standard. Maybe there are new players who want to start playing. But the barriers are countless. WotC, I know you are a company. I know there are financial goals, business decisions, and numbers that need to make sense. I have never been here to attack you. Quite the opposite. Many times, I have actually been the person defending your decisions, trying to explain to others that certain choices had legitimate business reasons behind them. I started playing Standard during Scourge. I was around 14 years old. Since then, I have always loved this game and, above all, I have always loved Standard. I honestly don't know how I managed to keep consuming Magic for all these years. I built what I could with the resources I had. I put together imperfect decks. I played tournaments where I lost far more than I won. And I remember one particular situation. During Kaladesh, I spent practically all the money from my internship building a deck. It was one of the biggest financial efforts I had ever made at that time. And shortly afterward, the deck was banned. You didn't see it, WotC, but I cried. And I have absolutely no shame in saying that. It was all I had. After years of playing Magic, I had finally managed to put together something competitive that I could enjoy. It didn't even last a month. Since then, sometimes I feel like some things haven't really changed that much. The decisions changed. Programs were cut. Structures were changed. But you know what didn't change? The people. Yes, WotC, I have been playing with practically the same people in my city for almost 20 years. They are still the same passionate people who are here today. And all of this might seem like it is about a simple promo card, but I still remember how happy I was when I received a card through one of the old Rewards programs. Some players said it was ugly—I think they were jealous. Hahaha. I never thought it was ugly. It was my card. A card given to me by the company behind my favorite game. And that made me incredibly happy. It is difficult to explain to someone outside this community how much something so small can mean to someone who truly loves a game. And that is exactly why I am writing this. These three decks in the photo are a small, almost insignificant attempt to build Standard within my community. I try to keep the old faces around. And help new faces appear. But I often hear something from these new players that worries me. They play tournaments for other TCGs and tell me: "I got this just for participating." "I got a valuable card." "I felt appreciated." Deep down, perhaps what they are really saying is something even simpler: "I felt like I belonged." And it is difficult to tell those people, "Come play Magic." Because I know the barriers. I know that cards have value. I know we cannot simply reprint everything and destroy the value of the game. But I also know there are other ways to think about this. Ways to make the player more important. Ways to make participation feel rewarding. Ways to make a new player look at Magic and think: "I want to be part of this." It took me approximately 20 years to complete my first set of 40 Shock Lands. And I am not upset that they are coming back in Star Trek. Quite the opposite. I am showing my players that WotC did something really cool with that decision. You took important, desirable, historically expensive cards and found a way to make them more accessible. That is powerful. It shows that there are paths forward. But this week, while we are already struggling to bring new players into the game, I started seeing several pillars of our community saying: "I'm leaving." "I'm going to look for another place to call home." And that scares me. Not because I think Magic is going to die. I don't. Magic is far too big to simply disappear. But because I believe a game is not made only of cards. It is made of people. Players. Stores. Organizers. Content creators. Judges. Communities. Parents who bring their children to play. Friends who lend out their decks. People who spend hours teaching someone how to play. Players who lose five games in a row and come back the following Saturday to try again. I am one of those people. I am a father of two girls. I am a husband. I am a teacher. I am a dreamer. I am a player. I am a content creator. And above all, I am someone who deeply loves Magic. Maybe one day, I will even have my own card. But today, I already have something I consider much more valuable: people around me who still want to play. So I will continue. I will continue building decks. I will continue lending cards. I will continue teaching people how to play. I will continue trying to show people that there is a place for them in the Gathering. But I needed to tell you something. It is getting difficult. It is getting really difficult. And maybe this is the time to look at all of this not only through numbers, sales, or results. Look at the faces. Look at the people who have been holding these cards for 5, 10, 20, or 30 years. Look at the people who are trying to bring a new generation into the game. Don't wait until everyone leaves to realize that something needed to be done. I am not writing this because I have given up on Magic. I am writing this precisely because I still believe in it. You created something incredible. I just want to see that incredible thing continue to grow. And if this letter reaches someone at WotC who wants to talk, I am here. I know there are countless incredible names throughout Latin America. There are thousands of us who are passionate about these little Magic cards. I am just one of them. But perhaps that is exactly why this letter needs to exist. Because sometimes it is important to remember that behind every deck, every tournament, every sale, and every decision, there is a person. And maybe that person is simply trying to say: "Please, don't wait until everyone leaves." @wizards_magic @wizards_magic