Hey everyone! I guess it wasn’t just Jace messing with reality that dragged me back into writing these reviews, because here I am again, jamming a ridiculous pile of words onto the internet.
This time, we’re boldly going where no Limited review has gone before. Or, you know, where plenty of them have gone before, but with more Star Trek references, bad puns, and questionable jokes.
I’ll be reviewing every card in Star Trek from a Draft perspective, breaking down what’s worth picking, what’s worth avoiding, and what’s probably going to make you regret your life choices somewhere around turn six.
5.0: Disgustingly powerful and basically unbeatable. Either answer it the turn it comes down or start packing up your cards.
4.5: An incredible bomb that can completely take over a game, but still gives your opponent a slim chance to fight back.
4.0: Great rares, the absolute best uncommons, or extremely premium removal. Cards I’m very happy to first pick.
3.5: Excellent role-players or removal spells that basically never get cut.
3.0: Good playables that I’m almost never cutting from my deck.
2.5: Solid playables and roughly the bar I hope nearly every card in my deck can reach.
2.0: Mediocre filler. These are normally fighting for those last few spots in the 20th-23rd card range.
1.5: Replaceable and generally below-average filler. This can also include decent sideboard cards or cards that need a very specific deck.
1.0: Bad filler that gets cut most of the time. There may be a deck that wants it, but I’m not happy when mine does.
0.5: I’m very unhappy to main deck this, but there might be some fringe sideboard application. These are cards that could be useful in the perfect situation but are bad almost everywhere else.
0.0: Completely unplayable in basically every possible situation. Thankfully, they rarely print cards this bad anymore.
A Note on Ratings
These grades aren’t meant to exist in a vacuum. Limited cards can move considerably depending on the deck around them. A 2.0 role-player might become a 3.0 in the archetype that actually wants it, while a supposedly powerful card can drop quickly if your deck can’t support it.
I’ll try to grade cards based on their average performance while pointing out the ones that have especially high or low ceilings depending on synergy.
All good things must come to an end, including drawing extra cards every turn. Apparently, unlimited value is too much to ask for these days.
Fortunately, this lets you sift through an absolutely obnoxious number of cards before the fun stops. Seeing that much of your deck makes it easier to find the removal spell, bomb, or other nonsense you need to take control of the game.
And if you discard a land all three times, you’re potentially gaining ten life along the way. That’s a substantial bonus when you’re trying to stabilize against an aggressive deck. You’re not just improving your hand; you’re buying time to cast whatever you found at the end.
The value eventually runs out, but three opportunities to improve your hand are plenty. It’s not an endless card-drawing engine, and a 3.0 feels about right.
Resistance is futile. Especially when your opponent gets to exile your best creature for a fraction of the usual price.
In a dedicated Borg deck, Borg Cube can be dirt cheap, giving you incredibly efficient exile removal. That’s already a fantastic deal, and we haven’t even gotten to the part where the Cube starts doing something beyond ruining your opponent’s day.
Of course, there’s the small matter of station twelve. TWELVE! That’s an obnoxious number of counters, even by Spacecraft standards. At least a dedicated Borg deck should have plenty of creatures to help with the process, and the format has ways to speed things up.
The important thing is that you don’t need to finish stationing it to get your money’s worth. If the Cube never gets operational, you’ve still exiled a creature. If it does, you’ve collected a substantial bonus on an already excellent removal spell.
Turning this into an actual sweeper takes a suspiciously specific sequence of events. You need to produce another creature token before the third chapter and keep your fragile little 0/1 alive until everything comes together.
That’s a lot of faith to put in something that could lose a fight with a stiff breeze.
More realistically, I see this as a way to stall the game, draw some cards, and gain a little life. Slower decks can certainly use that breathing room, but five mana is a lot to spend on a plan that mostly buys time.
I’m not dismissing the ceiling. I just don’t want my stabilization plan to depend on my opponent politely ignoring a 0/1 for several turns.
Sigh. I already wasted my Cleveland joke on another card. I suppose I can show a little empathy for Browns fans and let this one slide. They’ve suffered enough.
As for Booker, I’d prefer to play him when I can immediately follow up with a land. He’s exactly the sort of creature that attracts removal, and getting a landfall trigger before he gets sent packing matters.
The concern is how little he accomplishes if your opponent answers him before you get that value. Four mana is a meaningful investment, and he’s far more appealing when you can guarantee at least something in return.
I suspect I’ll choose the double-investigate option more often than not. Two Clues are a nice way to keep the cards coming, particularly when the game slows down and you’ve got spare mana to spend.
The other option still has its uses, though, which is what I want from a modal card. Both choices should be relevant in real games instead of one being the obvious pick and the other existing solely to make the text box longer.
I’m happy with a 3.5 for flexibility and reliable value. Odo doesn’t need to put on a spectacular performance every time; giving you a useful choice is already plenty.
Dal helps you hit the gas early, then turns excess lands into real cards once another Forest becomes about as exciting as watching paint dry.
That’s a useful combination. Early on, you want to hit land drops and cast your expensive spells ahead of schedule. Later, you want to stop drawing land and start finding things that actually affect the battlefield.
He addresses both problems while providing a serviceable body. A mana helper that doesn’t become completely embarrassing on turn ten is a pretty good deal.
Gravedigger isn’t what he used to be, but I’m sure you’re all tired of hearing me complain about power creep. I’m starting to sound like an old man yelling at clouds, which, admittedly, is pretty much my brand.
The bigger issue here is that single point of toughness. With all the random 1/1 Officer tokens running around, Daniels isn’t exactly going to dominate combat. Trading your four-drop for something your opponent got as a bonus isn’t my idea of a good time.
The recursion has some utility, although I expect the two life to matter more often. Putting a card on the bottom of your library sounds useful until you remember how rarely you’ll see it again without a shuffle effect or a very long game.
A three-color card that needs you to cast additional spells afterward is already a tough sell. By the time you’ve assembled the mana, you may be behind schedule, and Dathon still wants you to have enchantments ready to play before he delivers a worthwhile payoff.
That’s an awful lot of cooperation required from the rest of your deck. I’m sure there’s a magical Christmasland draw where he lands on curve, you follow him with enchantment after enchantment, and everyone at the table is jealous.
I’m not building my mana base around the hope that all of that happens. Three colors and multiple enchantments later, that’s less a game plan than a plea for mercy.
Five total power and toughness for five mana is a reasonable starting point. Being able to distribute two of those +1/+1 counters is a nice bonus, especially when you’ve got an evasive creature or something that just needs a little extra muscle.
In Selesnya, the ceiling gets much higher. That archetype already wants to spread counters around and collect rewards for doing so, which means The Doctor can fit right into the plan without demanding a ridiculous supporting cast.
He’s still a five-drop whose best performances require other cards, so I’m not pushing him above a 3.0. But the upside is real, and in the right deck he can get bigger than an American hospital bill.
Sorry, healthcare jokes are an easy target. At least this Doctor doesn’t charge $800 for a couple of counters and a consultation.
This might seem a little high at first glance, but I think people are going to underestimate the amount of work these two can do.
You start with slightly above-rate stats, and when the original creature dies, you get another body with two power and haste. That’s a considerably better leftover than something like Tenacious Drone‘s 1/1.
That extra power matters. Your opponent can’t trade with the first body and casually ignore the second, and a removal spell doesn’t cleanly solve the problem either. There’s still a relevant attacker waiting to cause trouble.
Two useful bodies from one card is an excellent way to maintain pressure. For once, the House of Duras has a succession plan that works: kill one sister, and the other immediately comes for your throat.
I’m not nearly as optimistic about Tendi as I am about some of the other signpost uncommons. She just doesn’t line up particularly well with what Simic is trying to accomplish.
Simic has apparently decided that two colors are beneath it and would rather collect every differently named land in the set. Tendi doesn’t directly advance that plan, although she’s a respectable blocker that can help ramp and occasionally surprise an opponent by untapping a creature they thought was safely out of the way.
The surveil might be her most valuable contribution once the game goes long. After spending the early turns assembling your exotic land collection, the last thing you want is to keep drawing lands and fixers instead of actual spells.
There’s enough flexibility here for a 3.0. I just wish the signpost pointed a little more directly toward its own archetype.
Gowron can get completely out of hand because he grows whenever creatures die on either side of the battlefield. That’s dangerous by itself, but it also creates some truly disgusting combat tricks.
Imagine Gowron getting into a fight, only for you to kill an entirely different creature with a removal spell. Suddenly he’s bigger, wins a combat he was supposed to lose, and your opponent gets to reconsider their life choices.
Then there’s the free sacrifice outlet. All those disposable Klingons become fuel for extra cards and more counters, and trample means the growing pile of stats actually gets through. It’s also a nasty deterrent to burn spells: your opponent had better calculate their damage carefully when you can sacrifice another creature in response.
Straight destroy effects are still a problem, which is the main reason I’m stopping at a 4.0. Otherwise, this offers growth, sacrifice synergies, card advantage, and the potential for some spectacular blowouts.
Klingons are supposedly all about honor and glorious combat. Gowron’s version apparently involves throwing his entire crew into the meat grinder while he collects the rewards.
It’s probably a good thing this ability triggers only once per turn. If every noncreature spell made another copy, we’d be discussing something completely cracked. As printed, the performance is going to swing wildly from game to game.
The awkward part is that Izzet naturally wants a higher concentration of spells than creatures. That doesn’t leave you with a huge menu of things worth copying, especially when the copy is only around for one attack.
Even Cetacean Ops, which seems like a natural fit in the archetype, isn’t much to write home about as a copy. You don’t get the counters it spent the game accumulating, so you’re making a fresh version of a creature that needed work to become impressive.
Of course, copy the right big creature or something with a valuable ability, and suddenly this looks incredible. The ceiling is enormous. The floor is a lot sadder, and that’s why I’m landing in the middle at 3.0.
There’s not much that needs fixing here. A 2/3 for two mana that loots whenever it attacks is already a great Limited card, especially when the body can survive combat with plenty of early creatures.
Spacecraft make him even better. You can tap Hemmer to station a ship and still get the loot trigger, which means you don’t have to risk him in combat to keep filtering through your deck. That’s excellent value from a two-drop.
The hexproof is a useful bonus as well. It can give you a chance to attack with a fully stationed Spacecraft before your opponent gets to untap and use removal on it.
What sells me is that Hemmer needs none of those synergies to earn his spot. The ships just turn an already good card into something better.
Maybe my inner Magic boomer is showing, but I remember when Fires of Yavimaya was an absolute beating. Giving your entire team haste can fundamentally change a game, and apparently I’m still not over it.
Hit It! isn’t merely an excuse to reference the Beasty Boys. It’s also ramp that puts cards into your graveyard, which matters in a format where several decks actively want to stock the bin.
Now every large creature you cast threatens to attack immediately. Your opponent doesn’t get the comfort of a full turn to prepare for whatever nonsense you’ve dropped onto the battlefield, and you’ve accelerated the mana to get those threats out in the first place.
Ramp, graveyard setup, and permanent haste make a compelling package. That’s worth a 3.5, even if I need to go yell at some clouds about how nobody respects Fires of Yavimaya anymore.
I’m typically happy to pay five mana for a Reanimate effect if there’s something extra included. This is like one of those fantasy football trades where the other manager keeps adding players until the offer becomes too ridiculous to decline.
First, you get your creature back. The next two chapters let you choose a creature rather than locking you into the one you reanimated, so your opponent can’t simply remove that first monster and blank the rest of your card.
If the giant thing you brought back isn’t getting through, target a flyer instead and draw a fistful of cards. By the time you collect the life and Treasure token at the end, the guy making the trade has practically thrown in next year’s first-round pick.
There is an important restriction: you can only reanimate a green or white creature. I’m well aware of it, and I wouldn’t recommend splashing this into a deck without enough legal targets. But in a deck that can use it? Good grief. The baseline is good, and the extra chapters are an outrageous amount of value.
Kira is an odd one, mostly because she seems to think we’re playing a different format.
Her ability wants creatures to enter during your attack step. That means flash creatures or instant-speed token makers, neither of which is exactly a specialty of this color pair. Saavik, Stoic Student is the only flash creature available here, and the instant-speed token options aren’t exactly overflowing either.
I’m starting to suspect this is a Constructed plant that wandered into the Limited file and nobody showed it the exit.
Fortunately, a 4/3 with trample for three mana still makes the cut in most decks. Even when the additional text is effectively blank, that body helps you reach the eight-power threshold.
Unsurprisingly, Kirk is a strong signpost uncommon. He fits neatly into an aggressive curve, keeps the pressure on, and generates card advantage without asking you to take your foot off the gas.
He contributes almost half of the required eight power himself, which makes the payoff feel like a natural extension of what your deck was planning to do anyway. Play creatures, attack, and get rewarded. There’s no need to assemble an elaborate contraption.
That’s particularly welcome in aggro, where running out of cards is often the opening your opponent needs to stabilize. Kirk can even sacrifice himself for the greater good if the situation demands it, which might come up with so many Borg lurking around.
Of course, Kirk sacrificing himself to save the crew is practically a Star Trek tradition. Just don’t expect him to stay dead if there’s a sequel.
I have a feeling I’m going to hear about this grade no matter where I land. Some people will draw a mountain of cards, double their life total, and accuse me of underrating it. Others will stare at it while getting beaten to death and ask why I rated it this high.
Doubling your life is wonderful against aggro when you’re at ten. Going from two to four? Congratulations, you’re probably still dead. Against control, the life gain might not matter much at all.
The card draw has the same problem. It counts the cards already in your hand, and Live Long and Prosper itself doesn’t count because it’s on the stack. If you’ve been trading resources, this might be an overpriced Divination or worse. If you’ve got a fistful of cards already, how desperately do you need even more?
The ceiling is enormous, but it feels an awful lot like a win-more card when you’re ahead and a miserable topdeck when you’re behind. Spock’s advice was to live long and prosper. Unfortunately, this card seems to expect you to be prospering already.
I’m torn between 3.5 and 4.0 because the efficiency is absurd. Locutus distributes an awful lot of potential stats for two mana, but he’s also fragile, and there isn’t any secret card advantage waiting for you if your opponent kills him.
The key detail is that he doesn’t say other artifact creatures. He’s already a 2/2 for two, and the rest of your artifact creatures get a Glorious Anthem. Anyone who’s played enough Magic knows just how terrifying a cheap lord can be. With Borg everywhere, finding bodies to benefit shouldn’t be the difficult part.
He also has a useful escape hatch. Draw another copy or end up with too few artifacts? Pay two mana, discard him, and get a Vicious Hunger instead. That’s excellent flexibility for a card with such a powerful primary mode.
A traditional removal spell can undo a lot of your plans, which keeps me at 3.5.
I’m really closer to a 1.75, but triggering Face a Dilemma is enough to get the grade rounded up. I’m feeling generous today. Don’t get used to it.
Most of the time this is a 2/3 for three mana that surveils two. If your deck has graveyard synergies, great. Otherwise, you’re mostly paying for a modest body and some card selection.
The unblockable ability and extra power are less about steady value and more about those wonderful moments when you look at the battlefield, do some quick math, and announce, “Oops, guess I win.”
That’s certainly worth remembering, but I don’t expect it to happen often enough to change my evaluation. Lore might be Data’s evil twin, but I wish he’d found a more exciting way to stand out.
L’Rell is exactly what an aggressive Klingon deck wants. She helps keep the pressure on by adding more bodies to the battlefield, and you even get a bit of card selection before your temporary token poofs out of existence.
The truly silly games are going to involve Gowron, Eager for Battle. Those disposable tokens become sacrifice fodder, which means extra cards and more counters on an increasingly enormous trampler.
At that point, you’re drawing approximately all of the cards while your opponent tries to figure out when their ordinary game of Magic turned into a Klingon accounting exercise. She’s good on her own and substantially better when the sacrifice pieces come together.
Three mana to Clone your opponent’s best creature is an excellent deal. Give the copy menace, and suddenly your version might be even better version than the original.
Sure, I’d normally prefer the option to copy my own creatures. At this price, I’ll live with the restriction. Your opponent spent all that mana putting something impressive onto the battlefield, and you’re getting to borrow their homework for considerably less.
Then there’s the kicker. The cost is enormous, and you won’t pay it in most games. But when you do, it threatens the sort of swing that can rescue an otherwise unwinnable position. I love cards that are great under normal circumstances and occasionally come with an emergency button labeled “I just win.”
A 4.5 is easy to justify when the baseline is this strong and the ceiling is downright outrageous. Your opponent brought the best creature; you brought its evil twin.
Nog begins as a 2/2 with menace for two, which is already respectable. But apparently being an acceptable two-drop isn’t nearly ambitious enough.
For one more mana, he becomes a 3/4 that surveils two when he attacks. That’s an absurd early-game sequence. Four toughness and menace make blocking a nightmare, and he’s digging through your deck while applying pressure.
Pay another three and he lets you play lands from your graveyard, plus an additional land each turn. All those lands you surveilled away are suddenly available again. It’s a remarkably neat little engine stapled to an aggressively costed creature.
The catch is the difference between playing Nog on turn two and drawing him on turn ten. A late copy isn’t nearly as impressive, and removal can leave you with nothing to show for the investment. Still, the early-game upside earns a 4.0 without much argument.
Phlox needs help. He isn’t a card you can toss into any random pile and expect great things from, and he does very little when your battlefield isn’t cooperating.
But in a dedicated +1/+1 counters deck? Good grief. You’re already putting counters on creatures and attacking with them, and Phlox turns that routine into a potentially ridiculous card-drawing engine.
If you’re drawing four cards during an attack, the game is probably already over. Your opponent might not realize it yet, but you’re finding more creatures, more counters, and more ways to make the next attack even worse.
The dependence on other cards is what holds him at 3.5. When the pieces are there, though, his treatment plan seems to be a prescription to draw your entire deck.
There are reasonable games where Sarek draws you an extra card every turn. That’s genuinely good, even if you’re paying the price of a three-color mana base. In the occasional magical Christmasland game with enough creature types, he might even draw two cards a turn and snowball out of control.
As for getting fifteen creature types into play for the counters? Sure. Maybe my next draft deck will also have twelve rares and a perfect mana base.
The trouble is that Sarek does basically nothing by himself. You need multiple other creatures with different types, you need them to survive, and you need to avoid trading them away. That’s an absurd number of conditions before your three-color card starts pulling its weight.
I’m not interested in making that kind of investment for a payoff this fragile. Sarek is supposed to be an expert diplomat, but these terms are terrible.
The usual disclaimer applies: grades are for an average deck of these colors, not an imaginary deck where every synergy piece appears on schedule.
Fortunately for Seven of Nine, there are a LOT of Face a Dilemma cards here. You’re going to trigger her often without having to contort your deck, and those triggers help generate even more dilemmas. That’s exactly how a value engine is supposed to work.
Just don’t get carried away. A bad card doesn’t become good because it happens to say Face a Dilemma. Filling your deck with garbage to support one strong payoff is a great way to turn an otherwise reasonable draft into a disaster.
Stick to the cards you’d be happy playing anyway, and Seven of Nine should reward you handsomely. Resistance might be futile, but so is trying to win with six terrible cards you drafted solely for her triggers.
It’s only logical that Spock is always my friend, especially when I’m drafting Izzet.
In a deck stuffed with noncreature spells, you’re going to hit off this ability with remarkable consistency. Honestly, it feels more inevitable than Thanos.
Yes, I’m aware I just crossed the streams by throwing a Marvel reference into a Star Trek review. And yes, bringing Ghostbusters into the explanation means I’ve now committed a second offense. I’m pretty sure the nerd police are on their way, but I should be able to finish before they arrive.
The important thing is that Spock rewards you for doing what the deck already wants. You don’t need to add questionable cards or twist your game plan into a pretzel. Just play your spells and collect the value.
Take Spock when you’re drafting Izzet, and you’ll live long and prosper. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think there’s a warrant out for my arrest in three fictional universes.
The Traveler is mostly a pile of stats, but sometimes that’s exactly what you need.
Vigilance and reach are a particularly nice combination. You can get in for damage without tapping him, and your opponent still has to worry about their flyers getting swatted out of the sky on the way back.
For two mana, the eventual size can be impressive. It does take several turns of playing differently named lands to get there, though, so don’t expect a giant threat immediately. A 2.5 feels right for a cheap creature with a substantial power ceiling and three toughness holding him back.
We all know Golgarbage loves rummaging through its graveyard like a raccoon digging through a dumpster. Vash has apparently figured out how to make a living from it.
Every time you start messing with your graveyard, she rewards you with an actual, factual Magic card. Not a token or some temporary consolation prize. A card. (Offer limited to once per turn. Terms and conditions apply. Please consult the fine print.)
Better still, Vash gives you a surveil every turn to keep stocking the bin with more goodies. And all of this comes on a body designed to slow the game down while you set up the next round of shenanigans.
You aren’t being asked to do anything unusual for Golgari. She’s just making sure the deck gets paid for digging through its own trash. One man’s garbage is apparently Vash’s entire business model.
For a Klingon who’s constantly talking about glorious battle, Worf seems awfully dependent on everyone else showing up to the fight first.
I’m not going to lie: I expected more from him. This feels like a card that could have cost one mana without causing the collapse of Limited as we know it. Of course, maybe I’ll look ridiculous when Worf starts dominating the format. You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take, as Wayne Gretzky said. Or Michael Scott. Close enough.
The obvious plan is to pair him with cards that make multiple bodies, like Assembly Specialist, and grow him as quickly as possible. If the creature production is flowing, he can become a legitimate threat.
If it isn’t, you’ve got a fairly underwhelming two-drop that asks the rest of your deck to do all the heavy lifting. I’ll take my chances with a 2.0.
Hell is a draft where I have to play this card even once, let alone for an entire year.
Someone looked at Secret Rendezvous, a card that was already unplayable garbage, and apparently asked, “What if we made it worse?” And somehow, they succeeded.
You’re doing the same miserable thing over several turns while dealing two damage to each player every time. So not only are you handing your opponent extra cards, you’re helping them kill you. How thoughtful.
This is particularly insulting in Izzet, where you’re already running plenty of noncreature spells and may have a limited battlefield presence. Your life total is a resource you use to buy time to cast those spells. Year of Hell takes six of that life away while giving your opponent card advantage.
Even if you get a few spell-related triggers along the way, that’s an actual card in your deck devoted to helping your opponent beat you. I’d rather play another mediocre creature and at least pretend I’m trying to win.
0.0. I’d rather draft actual factual Secret Rendezvous, and I never thought I’d type those words.
With Zero, I’d generally target something expensive and treat the ability as a sort of pseudo-discard spell. Your opponent technically still has the card, but if the tax keeps them from casting it for several turns, you’ve accomplished something meaningful.
Target something cheap, though, and the disruption may evaporate almost immediately. They’ll pay the tax before you know it, and you’ll be wondering what exactly you spent your mana to achieve.
The body isn’t impressive for the cost, so the value has to come from interfering with the opponent’s plans. Catch a bomb before they’re able to cast it and Zero might buy you exactly the time you need. That’s useful, but not quite enough to get me above a 2.5.
And that’s the multicolor portion of our Star Trek Limited review in the books. If there’s a theme here, it’s that the best cards tend to reward you for doing what your deck wanted to do anyway. Kirk keeps aggressive decks from running out of gas, Vash turns Golgari’s dumpster diving into actual cards, Seven of Nine pays you for facing dilemmas, and Hemmer helps the Spacecraft get off the ground while fixing your draws.
The Klingons look particularly entertaining. Gowron turns dead creatures into counters and cards, L’Rell supplies more bodies, and The Duras Sisters make sure a single removal spell doesn’t necessarily end the conversation. I don’t know whether honor demands that you sacrifice half your crew for value, but the game rules certainly don’t seem to mind.
On the other hand, don’t let a shiny gold border talk you into terrible deckbuilding. Sarek and Dathon ask for a lot more cooperation than I’m willing to give, and Seven of Nine isn’t an excuse to draft every lousy Face a Dilemma card you see. If your signpost uncommon requires you to play bad cards to make it work, that’s less of a signpost and more of a warning label. Meanwhile, The Inner Light and Mirror Universe Intrusion demonstrate what a genuinely worthwhile payoff looks like.
As always, these are my expectations before we’ve had enough drafts to see what actually holds up. I’m sure I’ll be wrong on something. Maybe Worf will turn out to be a monster, or someone will find the perfect home for Live Long and Prosper. If Year of Hell becomes the best card in the format, though, I’m going to need a long vacation and a written apology from the universe.
Thanks for reading through the reviews, we’ve just got Artifacts and Lands left to go. I’ll be back with another Limited Weekend Update once we’ve got actual games and data to argue about. Until then, stay classy people.
If you have any questions, let me know in the comments below.
Josh is a member of the elite limited team The Draft Lab as well as the host of The Draft Lab Podcast. He was qualifying for Pro Tours, Nationals, and Worlds literally before some of you were born. After a Magic hiatus to play poker and go to medical school, he has been dominating Arena with over an 80% win percentage in Bo3 as well as making #1 rank in Mythic.
