On the left is an image of a card called Mind Twist as it appeared in Limited Edition Alpha, Magicâs very first set, released back in 1993. On the right is an image of the same card released nearly 25 years later in a set called Amonkhet, which was Magicâs own recreation of Ancient Egypt. Not every card in that set looked like this one; the Mind Twist here belongs to a unique series of highly collectible cards called âMasterpiecesâ that showed up in booster packs at an extremely rare rate. Their main flair was an aesthetic one: both cards here are functionally equal, yet Masterpieces appeal to certain players in such a way that a ânormal Magic cardâ does not. Between these two cards lives a cavernous history of graphic design. Every detail on the faces and frames of Magic cards has evolved since the inception of the game, yet after 25 years, its overall visual style is still fully recognizable and intact. I can call upon just about any two cards from the pool of over 16,000 unique designs and they will, on a holistic level, possess the same core elements that render them specific to this trading card game and none other. The printing of this Mind Twist and its like, however, was the closest moment weâve come to breaking such a mold in the gameâs lifetime, so much so that many veteransâ initial reaction to these cards was âthat is not a Magic card.â So today I would like to dissect the visual design elements that make up the anatomy of a Magic card in order to better understand why this Mind Twist feels so removed from its predecessors. In order to do so, I want to look at every card frame that the game has utilized since 1993 and trace the subtle changes put forth by each new design. As such, I hope this video can serve as a succinct visual history of Magic card frames for future reference, as well as a useful point of comparison for anyone who plays other trading card games. Alongside this deep-dive on frames, I will analyze the tenuous relationship between flavor and function in card games as a way to explain Mind Twistâs disconnect. Ultimately, I argue that aesthetics have slowly lost priority to utility over the course of the gameâs lifespan, and the Amonkhet Invocations pushed back on that trend in more ways than one, resulting in nearly unanimous backlash. Letâs start at the very beginning. Magic debuted in 1993 with Alpha, a set of 295 cards that were divided amongst eight different card frames. Five frames corresponded to one of each of the five colors of Magic, the sixth frame was for artifacts that had no color, the seventh was designated for basic lands, and the eighth frame belonged to the dual lands that produced two colors of mana. At its inception, Magicâs flavor, as far as card frames were concerned, was at its absolute highest, an aspect that will be slowly ironed out over time in favor of function. Before we look at the details, though, I want to establish some terminology. The anatomy of a Magic card can be broken down into three main horizontal sections. The first incorporates the card title and the mana cost, which sits above the artwork, and in this case, directly on top of the card frame. The second section shoots across the middle and houses the illustration, as well as the type line. In later sets, the type line will also show the expansion symbol. Finally, the third section includes the entirety of the text box, as well as the power and toughness box for creatures, and collectorâs information along the bottom, which shows the artist credit, the copyright information, and details about the card specific to its set. All of these aspects are placed within a frame that itself is surrounded by a 3mm border, either black or white in most cases. To note: every piece of this anatomy will be modified to some extent over the course of the gameâs lifetime. In Alpha, frames corresponded not only to the color identity of the card, but were also textured to thematically match the flavor of said colors. Whiteâs frame is the least distinct of the bunch, but its text box recalls the pattern of a lace doily that perhaps you could find on the altar of a church. Blueâs frame is watery and whispy like its creatures, and its text box looks like a blurry shot of the surface of the ocean. Black has a bubbly frame reminiscent of a witchâs brew in a cauldron, and its text box looks like the parchment you could find in one of her spell books. Red is the least busy of the five; its frame and text box recall the smooth texture of stone nestled near a volcano. And Green has a blurry, plant-like frame beneath a text box set to resemble a sheet of wood. The artifacts are a deep brown with a mosaic text box, and the basic lands differ depending on which color of mana they could produce. The pin-lines surrounding the two rectangles highlighted these colors, too. Finally, the dual lands exhibited a radical design that has not been repeated since: this alternating striped pattern signified the two colors of mana the land could make. Now, like I said before, these designs were the pinnacle of immersion, but their functionality in-game was sacrificed for this high-fantasy flavor. The primary concern with these frames was that they rendered many of the cards unreadable. The white text on a very thin font didnât pop on the busy, colored frames, and black italics on dark red was virtually illegible, too. To make matters worse, early Magic design did not have the streamlined game language and terminology we see today, so cards like Illusionary Mask were extremely wordy in comparison to something like Holy Strength. This resulted in a visual incongruity across the set. Alpha cards also lacked the necessary collectorâs information along the bottom, and instead only displayed the artist credit. After the Alpha and Beta printings came Unlimited, which brought the first change in border color, and would establish Wizardâs reprint policy that was eventually phased out in 2007 with Tenth Edition. The policy worked as follows: if a card would be printed for the first time, it would have a black border, and if it were to be printed again in a following set, like Mind Twist here in Unlimited, it would have a white border. This could signify to players that older versions of the card existed, which appealed to collectors who sought the first editions for their decks. This policy became very tricky to uphold, however, due to Magicâs growth outside of the United States. Once the game incorporated non-English languages, it meant that technically their first printing could be in a reprint set, which then would require the card to be printed with a black border. This confusion would have Wizards scrambling to print Renaissance sets to remain consistent in their reprint policy, leading to gigantic headaches within R&D in trying to keep track of which cards were debuting in their corresponding languages. Eventually, they disregarded the white-border / black-border debacle and committed to printing all their sets with black-bordered cards. Most players enjoyed this change, too, as the black border looks better on a Magic card. Some white-border rebels would disagree, though. A few months after Unlimited debuted Magicâs first expansion set, Arabian Nights, in December of 1993. The two primary visual updates were the inclusion of the expansion symbol, in this case a scimitar to invoke the worldâs middle eastern flavor, and new yellow pin-lines found on lands that produced colorless mana, like City of Brass here. These yellow lines wouldnât be the standard, though; Antiquities utilized a darker, orangish-red for its lands, Legends had a gradient gold, and The Dark surrounded its non-basics with very thick, dark pin-lines. Arabian Nights also nearly changed the card back to a pink version with the expansion name underneath the gameâs title, but was pulled at the last second to avoid inconsistencies with decks that mixed in cards from outside of this expansion. This decision was critical to Magicâs visual design philosophy, and has been the sole element of the card that has not changed in the history of the game in tournament-legal expansions. To note, this alternate card back had a yellow font, which quickly become the standard for branding, and is Mark Rosewaterâs preferred color for displaying the gameâs name. This, along with the Deckmaster title bar, would be amongst the things he wishes he could change about the original card back. A couple of expansions later showed, for the first time, a multicolored card with a golden frame and textbox, as well as the debut of Legendary creatures. This expansion was named Legends, and it would set the baseline for multicolored cards that is still utilized in design today. Since these creatures, like Angus Mackenzie, were not just white, nor blue, nor green, but all three, the frame signaled to players that multiple colors were required to play the card. Along with this sub-type came the Legend Rule, which initially restricted players to only one copy of the card in their decks. Going along with our argument, this meant that flavor was taking high priority over function: since these creatures were unique and named, it meant that there could only be one in your deck to remain consistent with the fantasy of the game. How could you possibly have two Angus Mackenzie when only one exists in Magic lore? As you may expect, this rule has been heavily modified over the years, which will be relevant in the second half of this video. For the first ten years of its life, Magicâs visual design stayed true to the high fantasy, spell book flavor that Richard Garfield established in Alpha, with minor tweaks in the textbox to match the feel of the worlds explored. Portal experimented with a thicker font and a line break to separate rules text from flavor text, but this format never saw further print outside of subsequent Portal and Starter sets. It also replaced the rules text in Basic Lands with a giant mana symbol, which became the default templating moving forward. This change bothered folks at first, which of course will become on ongoing motif. Exodus provided cards with more collectorâs information at the bottom, moved the formatting from left-justified to center-justified, as well as incorporated a colored expansion symbol that signified a cardâs rarity for the first time in the gameâs history. Magicâs first parody set, Unglued, came in 1998 and heavily played with all of the elements of the card frame, most notably on the premiere of full-art lands. This became a highly desirable treatment of basic lands and inspired reiterations in future sets. To signify that all the cards except these lands could not be played in tournaments, the black border was changed to silver. Invasion, however, was the first time designers heavily experimented with the real estate of a Magic card in the form of the gameâs first split cards. These spells allowed players to essentially have two cards in one, but their visual design was nothing more than exactly that. They didnât reinvent the frame; they just turned a normal Magic card sideways, shrunk it, and repeated the process for the second half of the card. These split cards were very well-received by players, though, and would act as the blueprint for future experiments with the card frame. One block later, in Apocalypse, dual lands received their first gradient textbox, which stylishly showed off new pin lines and a clean blend of two colors that the original Alpha duals struggled to get right. But the most significant change to card frames occurred in Eighth Edition, causing an outcry amongst the player base that has been echoed with every subsequent change in frames since. To align with Magicâs 10th anniversary at GenCon, R&D decided to unveil the designs that they had long been clamoring for and had begun to work on as early as Invasion three years prior. 8th Edition was a Core Set, and thus had to obey the reprint policy that I spoke about before. As such, the borders were white, but this was not what made this design decision noteworthy in the slightest. What players remember most is the first instance in which that Tolkein-esque feel from early Magic sets was replaced with a streamlined aesthetic that prioritized functionality over flavor. The cards across this set became much more cohesive as a whole, but in order to do so, the gameâs visual design had to sacrifice the tenets that made each color feel unique from one another. The first unifying element was the employment of three dimensional boxes that surrounded the title and type lines, as well as the power and toughness indicators. If you look closely, these boxes have a slight shadow effect along the bottom line, as well as against the left crease. They also sport many more pin lines that surround these boxes, two of which have curves that allow for more space along the type line to make room for the expansion symbol and a break in uniformity around the power and toughness box. Secondly, the font was changed from Goudy Medieval to Matrix Bold, which was heavier and much easier to read yet lacked that bookish flavor. The font was also changed uniformly to black, except for the collector info on black cards themselves, which remained white. Now, perhaps the most off-putting update was the treatment of the textboxes. No longer would Green cards be embossed with wooden panels, nor Black cards with roughened parchment. In their places would be a mostly opaque, lightened background that was tinted to match the color of the card. The same was true for the title and type lines. The original textures, however, were still present and updated, even if they were far less pronounced. Greenâs text boxes sported a leafy texture to match their borders, and Black cards still had that bubbly, swampy ooze surrounding them. The watery pattern on Blue cards became more uniform and soft, while Redâs borders were instead rendered to appear more cracked and stressed. And yeah, White lost the lacey, doily look in place of a clean, marble card frame. Lands received a uniform border, too, one with a roughened, stony surface, and their pin lines aligned to the colors of mana they could produce. Artifacts received perhaps the greatest alteration. Their frame went from a dark brown to a cool, steely texture with metallic accents. In a vacuum, this design perfectly matched the flavor of Magicâs version of lost relics that held ancient powers. However, this entire visual scheme was far too close in hue to the White cards, so much so that it was too difficult to differentiate the two while panning through a booster pack. To make matters worse, Mirrodin was the expansion to follow 8th Edition, which was a world built entirely around artifacts. When 8th Edition released, players lamented that these two frames were far too similar in appearance, but their complaints were solidified a couple of months later at the employee pre-release of Mirrodin. When Randy Buehler thumbed through his first booster pack of the artifact world, he realized that the lamenting player base was right. Two sets later, in Fifth Dawn, the border was significantly darkened, which tided the confusion. One major complaint still remained, however, which was the lack of colored mana symbols on activated and triggered abilities on artifacts across the block. Neurok Stealthsuit, for example, wants blue mana, but this is not immediately clear upon first glance, which slowed down drafting and led to disappointment in gameplay. The greater takeaway from 8th Edition, though, is twofold. The first is that Magic finally had a cohesive visual identity across all cards at the cost of individuality between them. That is to say, from a holistic viewpoint, 8th Edition felt like one solid unit, and promised uniformity moving forward once the prior sets were phased out over the following years. The second takeaway was, of course, longtime veteranâs initial reactions to the change in frames. Their complaints, like I said up top, would be echoed with every change in card frame moving forward. âThis does not look like a Magic cardâ. They were correct in the sense that the Modern frame lacked that high-fantasy flavor, but the functionality was greatly improved in its stead. Cards were legible. The focus shifted to make way for better game play, which meant that immersion would simply have to be found elsewhere. No longer could a player greatly rely on the card frame to deliver that beloved fantasy feel. See, this is at the crux of my argument here. We have to ask ourselves as players of card games what is more important: to feel like a wizard slinging spells, or to always be clear about what exactly those spells do. These two worlds are not exclusive, though, and 8th Edition proved that the frame could still deliver very tight gameplay under the guise of alternate realities. It was around this time, too, that R&D began to tinker with the potential of card framesâ ability to inspire game mechanics. Prior to this era, they were simply the method of organization and delivery. But what if a frame could not only clarify information, but also communicate information, to players? Well, this question was already on R&Dâs radar a few years prior. For 6th Edition, design considered this card frame, which possessed many of the elements that eventually made it to the Modern design a few years later. It had title and type bars, pin-lines, the works, but the most striking of course was its gigantic border on the left side. Along this bar appeared the mana symbols, vertically, as well as the collectorâs information and expansion symbol at the bottom. The idea at play here was to prioritize the mana cost for players while cards were fanned in their hands so that they could quickly glance at their grip and evaluate their next move. The problem, though, was twofold: one, it greatly hindered left-handed players who fan their cards in the opposite direction. It also looked terribly unbalanced, which matters of course for marketing and to aesthetic geeks like me. The mana cost, too, was vertically aligned, which I argue stands in complete contrast to all of Magicâs visual design traditions. Like I said when describing the anatomy of a card, the entire face is divided into three horizontal elements. For Western audiences, this matches the flow of reading left to right, top to bottom. As such, I have noticed that every time design tries to incorporate a vertical element into the card frame, it fails. It simply fights against this natural flow, and this example is no exception. But it succeeded in opening the door to installing communicative devices into the card frame. Just before 8th Edition, Odyssey utilized a small tombstone symbol in the upper left hand corner to tell players that it was a set that revolved around the graveyard. Cards bearing this tombstone meant that their abilities cared about that zone in some way. In Kamigawa block appeared the first attempt at a flip card, which sought to translate the idea of creature transformation into the schematics of a Magic card. The result was a failure because of how cramped these frames were. Reading upside down is very difficult, especially when trying to conceal information in your hand to opponents, and tapping these creatures made it very unclear as to which form the flip card was currently in. But the idea was there, and the card frame could provide the conduit to realize it effectively. The tinkering continued in Ravnica, which premiered two more innovations never seen before on a Magic card, as well as a rehashing of the Invasion split cards. The first innovation was an overhaul of gold cards. Since this set cared very much about multicolored cards, much like Legends, but existed in a post-8th Edition world in which only two multicolored cards had been printed in over two years, it meant that a new gold card frame had to be put in place for future sets. More specifically, Ravnica introduced the ten, two-color pairings called âGuildsâ that each had their own identity and symbols to represent them. The problem was, before Ravnica, all gold cards looked the exact same: blue-black cards had the same frame as white-green ones. So how do you differentiate between all the pairings? Aaron Forscythe went to the card frame for answers. Hereâs Coiling Oracle for example. To signal that this creature belonged to the Simic Combine, the blue and green guild, we have to pay attention to the subtle treatment of the pin-lines and textbox. Youâll notice that the former slowly fades from green to blue along the edges, which was not the case for the two gold cards in Kamigawa block. Those had solid gold pin-lines. The textbox employs the same gradient. It also incorporated those redesigned textures from 8th Edition, but faded them so that the card could still be easily read. Thereâs that leafy green look on the left. These cards also introduced the technology of a watermark which reinforced the cardâs color identity and also drove home the presence of the guilds. Forscythe himself was not initially sold on this innovation, but his mind changed after seeing the symbol glimmer on foil cards. To recall our argument, the guild symbols as watermarks were the perfect harmony of flavor and function. They acted as an immersive device of the world without interfering with the performance of the game. Ravnicaâs other multicolored cards, most notably the Guildmages, introduced the hybrid mana symbols but did not have a gold card frame. Instead, their frame showed a gradient from one color to the other only seen before in the textboxes of dual lands. This frame communicated to players that, although the card was two colors, it could still be played in decks that did not run both. Again, we find an example of R&D utilizing the card frame to inform game play, but in a way that still created an immersive experience for players who very much cared about the fantasy element. And then came the Time Spiral block. Veterans of the game know that this block was far and beyond Magicâs most complex design experiment in its history, and a portion of that complexity was due to the premiere of new card frames. Not only did Time Spiral resurrect the old frames in order invoke nostalgia and a visit to Magicâs past, notably reprinting a couple of Invasionâs split cards in the process, the block also brought back white lettering on title and type lines for the first time since prior to 8th Edition. For Planeshifted cards, the white text meant that the cardâs mechanic was evocative of an ability that typically sat outside its color identity. Damnation, a black card, for example, recalled Wrath of God, a white card, which was mirrored in its artwork. And to make this white text pop, these two boxes were darkened. These Planeshifted cards also played with new textures in their text boxes and around their card frames. Redâs frame was a much sharper, cracked stone, Greenâs textbox resembled the rings of a tree stump, recalling the wooden panel from Alpha, and clouds could be seen beneath Whiteâs rules text. I personally believe that these templates are the gameâs most flavorful modern design and I hope they become the default for future Magic cards, with black text instead of white. What was theorized, though, were the Future Sight frames. Remember that failed 6th Edition design? Itâs safe to say that remnants of that philosophy resurfaced here, most obviously in the placement of the mana cost. Catering again to right-handed tournament grinders, the symbols curved downwards along the left side of the card, placed into notches that fade behind the type line and textbox. The collectorâs information moved from the left to the right side, the expansion symbol sat in its own bubble, and the title box sported an asymmetrical polygon shape that ended with a small dot at its bottom right edge. Also reminiscent of the Odyssey era were the new symbols that popped up in the upper left hand corner. These never-before seen symbols corresponded to the card types so that, again, players could assess the cards in their hand without pushing them to the front of their grip. Almost every detail of these frames were a departure from 8th Edition, but holistically, the Future Sight frames still matched the horizontal tripartite design of a typical Magic card. The verticality of the mana symbols just didnât work, though, reinforcing my position that cards must read left to right, top to bottom. This frame was radical and, of course, âdid not look like a Magic cardâ. It also possessed some significant design flaws. Knowing I wanted to go this deep on card frames for this video, I knew I had to seek insight from someone who knows every inch and layer of a Magic card to the utmost degree. So I called up TheProxyGuy to chat about frames. TheProxyGuy: Hello, my name is Josh, I'm better known on Twitter as @TheProxyGuy and I've been playing the game since 1995âlate '95, early '96âI started making proxies pretty much as soon as I started playing the game. The Future Sight frame, as-is, I'm not a fan of because it doesn't pass what I've coined as "The Progenitus Test." If you cannot make a Progenitus in a frame that you're creatingâbecause it has 10 mana symbolsâthen it's a useless frame. So, in Future Sight, you only get like 7, I think, on the original so you can't put a Progenitus in the original frame. Future Sight also explored, for the very first time outside of lands, the potential for full-art spells with their cycle of vanilla creatures. The extent to which this technology can be functional is fully dependent on the text that is omitted from the card frame, though, which R&D learned with their Magic Player Rewards promos. Although these cards push immersion and flavor to the extreme by leaving out the cardâs mechanics entirely, theyâve proven to be more of a headache than theyâre worth over time. The biggest offender is Cryptic Command; the cardâs four modes are often confused or forgotten, leading to disputes in tournament matches. Aesthetics, here, completely outweigh function to the point of obsolescence. To mitigate this discrepancy, Game-Day promos now have the same full-art treatment, but with an overlaid transparent text box with white lettering. This is much more balanced and functional. After shaking the foundation of Magicâs visual design with Future Sight, 10th Edition solidified the change in policy I mentioned earlier. For the very first time, a core set would be printed with black borders, which left the utility of white borders in the past where they have stubbornly remained since. At this point in our history, we are in the Fall of 2007, and on the brink of the explosion in potential for card frames. Released at this time was Lorwyn, and with it, the debut of another new card frame, this time on something called a Planeswalker. Although this splashy new card type would deeply change the texture of gameplay forever, the visual design of Planeswalkers is pretty much congruent with the 8th Edition philosophy. It follows that same three horizontal bar design. But there are notable differences found in the detailing of that skeleton. The first heavily prioritizes the artwork. Both Ajani Goldmaneâs title bar and typeline are higher and lower than on the normal card respectively, which makes way for a bigger presence of his character on the card. His axe also breaks the plane of the pin-lines, and his textbox is much more transparent which allows viewers to see the entirety of his body. Secondly, the frame around his illustration is curved, drawing upon the space opened up by the Future Sight frame, which also gives more way for his artwork to shine. Finally, the black around his card border takes a gentle curve roughly two-thirds the way down his textbox. This gave much more room for the collectorâs information to be clarified at the bottom, which will be very significant to a later core setâs design. Zendikar block drew heavy influence from the Planeswalker design, as well as from the traditions established in Unglued and Unhinged. To invoke the adventure flavor of a plane with animated landscapes, R&D printed full-art lands for the first time in an expansion set. These full-art lands hosted that same curved card frame seen on Ajani to open the viewer as much as possible to the illustrations. They also experimented with the level-up cards that mechanically resembled the three Planeswalker abilities. Like loyalty counters, these creatures acquire level counters and become stronger, and their card frame mimics their growth. Horizontal bars align with the three possible levels and darken in hue as they move downward along the textbox, which also correspond to three possible power and toughness iterations. The villains of the block, giant Lovecraftian monsters called Eldrazi, employed a transparent textbox and border similar to those of Planeswalkers to emphasize their huge size. To reiterate, it is around this time that R&D was exhibiting that flavor can inspire functional card designs, and they were utilizing the frames and borders to drive such a theory home. In the next block Scars of Mirrodin, for example, the watermark first used in Ravnica returned to establish the territorial war between Phyrexia and Mirrodin. Every card in this block belonged to one faction or the other, and thus showed off their corresponding symbols. In the following block, Innistrad, R&D cranked up the exploratory design in card frames to push flavor and mechanics into new territory. What was tested with the Odyssey tombstone was taken to the next level with the Miracle mechanic, which bravely pushed back against the philosophy of 8th Edition of unifying the card frames to look fully cohesive across a set. These frames were loud, and intentionally so. Their goal was to subconsciously signal to players that they were different from other cards, and thus should be paid attention to while playing. Pulling a Miracle card off the top of your deck triggered a subset of game rules that were time-sensitive, and the frame was the primary way to communicate such an urgency. Once again, flavor was fully harmonious with function here. Perhaps the most important technology developed in Innistrad were the transform cards. First theorized back in Odyssey block, the deep need to functionally capture the visceral transformation from human to werewolf was only possible through this card frame design. Prior to this set, were-creatures could only show change from animal to bloodthirsty beast via the Threshold mechanic, but that was simply not resonate enough a communicative device to match the horror trope that the block was heavily pushing. To boot, Wizards knew that the Kamigawa flip cards were a failure, and that card frame did not provide enough space to accommodate the wordiness of this tribe. So they had to go against all taboo and print a double-face card, as well as modify the frame to signal this brand new mechanic. Once again, the upper left-hand corner was a critical piece of real estate to signal to players the cardâs abilities. Here, the card title nudged over to make space for the symbol of a sun, which was gently wrapped into the rest of the frame by those ever-important pin-lines weâve analyzed multiple times in this video. Since these cards were first used primarily on creatures, the textbox broke near the bottom-right of the card to display the other sideâs power and toughness for quick reference. This same arrow showed up on the middle of the title bar on Miracle cards. On the flipped side, the sun symbol became a moon, and a new small dot in the typeline signaled the cardâs color identity, since it lacked a mana cost to convey such information. As you can imagine, R&D was very hesitant to push the boundaries of tradition in order to serve immersion. But looking at the success of double-face cards in their ancillary product, Duel Masters, and developing a card frame that could simplify gameplay meant that the mold was primed to be broken once again. Just like watermarks and full-art lands, flavor and function on card frames was fully balanced in Innistrad, which opened up gigantic potential for design space in future sets. A year later, the team returned to Ravnica and resurrected the same design philosophies that made the first block whir like a well-oiled machine. The guild symbols were sleekly updated and displayed in the watermarks once again, the pin-lines helped differentiate gold cards, and split cards incorporated a new mechanic called Fuse that required an update to the now twelve-year-old frame. Two subtle changes took shape: the first was the addition of another type-line that ran across the bottom which described the mechanic, and the second were the pinched edges between the two halves that sought to signify that these spells could be merged into one upon casting. The design was fine, and the block really just toyed with already-established tropes without breaking into new space. I personally think that split cards should be rotated 90Âş. Hereâs an example that I asked TheProxyGuy to develop; to me, they just read better and feel less wonky. Then Theros came along and built upon the niche carved out by the Miracle mechanic with this starry card frame that differentiated Enchantment Creatures from normal cards. This frame was a critical turning point for the future of Magicâs graphic design. It meant that the fusion between mechanics and card frames was here to stay, and furthermore gave R&D more design space to work with in order to communicate gameplay to the players. Where pin-lines succeeded in differentiating gold cards in Ravnica, the Miracle and Nyx borders proved that there were still areas to explore on the card frame. 20 years of this tripartite format, and suddenly the space between the border and illustration became much more functional. Whereas the Odyssey tombstone and Innistrad Sun and Moon symbols required their own space, now R&D could simply rework the card frame itself to signal mechanics to players. With this innovation, they hit the ground running. But before they could tinker with the top half of the card, they needed to clean up the bottom. Queue the Magic 2015 Core Set. Just after celebrating 20 years of production, R&D felt it time to streamline, once again, all the information visible on a default Magic card. For the first time since the dramatic 8th Edition alterations, the frames would be re-imagined to accommodate printing technologies and give the game a more distinct brand. Looking at the before and after side-by-side, youâll notice that the departure was not very extreme. But of course, like Iâve said many times now, the change brought forth the infamous complaint of âthis does not look like a Magic cardâ. The updates were overall very minor: a new IP-specific font called Beleren that added just enough flair to the previously utilized Matrix Bold, a holofoil stamp on rares and mythics fused along the bottom, center-justified, to prove authenticity and fight counterfeits, and a more efficient organization of the collectorâs information which greatly helped card stores and bulk pickers alike. Even the border was thinned by almost a millimeter. To compensate for these inclusions, the same curve I highlighted on Ajani Goldmane was installed on every card type, not just Planeswalkers. This was the most extreme aspect of the M15 changes, and for TheProxyGuy and many others, it felt yet again like the uniqueness between cards was being ironed out in favor of uniformity. TheProxyGuy: And I hated that frame the first day I saw it. But I didn't hate it because it was a change. I hated it because I didn't like that they were making the Planeswalker frames less special. Because they've always had that kind of break at the bottom in the solid black bottom of the card. Sam: Like most of us, though, he quickly came around. TheProxyGuy: After playing with it and recreating it; it's the best frame they've ever done. I mean it's not even close. The M15 frame isâthat's what a Magic card in the modern world should look like. They killed it. I love that frame. With another obstacle successfully hurdled, the five years following Theros and M15 opened up the card frame to even more experimental designs. Consider this: since M15, every single expansion, as well as a group of supplementary products, have incorporated an alteration or modification of the default card frame into their design. Every, single, one. This has never happened before in the history of the game. It took almost ten years for the card frame to change at all, and now variants of the frame have become a default design principle for nearly every set. This, I believe, is a critical but delicate aspect to balance. Letâs look at these now. Conspiracy, a multiplayer draft-matters set, utilized the watermark technology to denote cards that affected drafting. It also debuted the new card type of the same name that transformed the title and type lines into a scroll and hosted a semi-transparent textbox to show off more art. Flavor met function in the frame yet again, and was taken a step further in the sequel set. This time, draft-matters cards received an all-new frame, as well as a watermark, to signal game mechanics in the same way that Miracles and Enchantment creatures did. Meanwhile, the Khans of Tarkir block pulled from the guild tropes of Return to Ravnica and used watermarks to organize cards into the five, three-color clans. This block also experimented with holographic watermarks that transformed between the Khans symbol and the Dragons symbol depending on the angle of observation, as seen on the Siege Cycle and my personal favorite Crux of Fate. Magic Origins brought back Double-Face cards, this time to thematically represent the games main charactersâ igniting their spark and transforming into Planeswalkers. Battle for Zendikar reutilized the mostly-transparent Eldrazi card frame, as well as introduced a flavorful pattern for the Devoid mechanic, to add some visual spice to colorless creatures. Again, that small space between illustration and border was being put to great use. Returning to the plane of gothic horror in the Shadows Over Innistrad block brought back some fan-favorite frames and pushed the boundaries of their potential. Double-Face cards, of course, offered premium real estate, and were utilized not only on werewolves, but even on enchantments and sorceries to play with flavorful card designs. R&D took this to the extreme with Meld creatures, which hearkened back to the Big Furry Monster from Unglued, and stretched borders across two entire cards. Kaladesh debuted the Vehicle creature type, and with it came a new card frame. These were not just artifacts, but a unique design that warranted differentiation. That frame space, once again, became critical to communicate this message at a quick glance. Amonkhet, the Egyptian world that inspired this video, also revamped a former card frame to match game mechanics. The Aftermath split cards showed another attempt at marrying flavor and function and pushed the design space just enough to warrant that same old reaction of âthat is not a Magic cardâ. This design is flawed in its attempt to be both horizontal and vertical on each half, but still serves as an example of utility informing graphic design. The follow-up set, Ixalan, merged all of these mechanics together and pushed double-face cards even further. Heck, in this set, you can find a vehicle transforming into a land, both representing those new card frames. And finally, in Unstable, we can find the ongoing attempt to push card frames further into new territory. For the first time in its history, full-art lands were printed as exactly that: the basics in this set forwent borders altogether and minimized the title line to its semi-transparent bare essentials. Contraptions and Host and Augment creatures did the same, and not only did watermarks return to group cards into flavorful factions, but they also inspired an entire sub-theme of the set that greatly affected gameplay. And the silver borders returned, but kept that curved black edge to prioritize the established collectorâs information conventions. In short, the post-M15 world has been far more exploratory and inventive with card frames than the changes seen in the 20 years prior combined. As a result, game mechanics and design space have expanded, and flavor has been reinstated into the card frame in much the same way that Alpha utilized its potential. Which brings us to right now. Letâs talk about Masterpieces. In the midst of this card frame renaissance and the return to a fan-favorite plane in Zendikar, Wizards threw players another curve ball with the introduction of the Zendikar Expeditions. A premium series of 45 highly sought-after nonbasic lands were randomly inserted into booster packs at an extremely rare rate across the block and offered a unique twist on what a Magic card traditionally looked like, as well as how it appeared in expansion products. Although they showed up in a standard-legal set, the cards possessed their own expansion symbol and were technically considered standalone promotions, and thus were not playable in the Type 2 format. The multi-front success of the Expedition experiment inspired Wizards to repeat the design in the Kaladesh block, inaugurating the Masterpiece series in the process. Initially, Masterpieces were intended to appear in every expansion moving forward, but this proved to be an unsustainable model due to the sheer density of cards in each installment. Choosing upwards of 50 desirable and powerful cards from Magicâs past per block meant that, sooner or later, the well would run dry. So after only three blocks, the policy was changed: Masterpieces would only appear in certain sets where flavor and function would combine to generate a home-run series of premium cards. More than the high rarity, playability, or new art, I believe that the Masterpieces fundamentally rely on their custom card frames to deliver their immersive experience. After all, reprints often have new art, are almost always available in foil, and appear in either expansion or supplemental sets, and so are playable across multiple formats. Obviously these elements are not exclusive to one another; the most successful Masterpieces so far have been powerful cards with strong illustrations and high reprint value. But the prime factor separating these cards from any of their premium or foil counterparts is found precisely in the frames that surround them. And I needed to describe in such detail and at such great length the history of Magic card frames in order to drive this point home. Remember the ongoing complaint, âthis does not look like a Magic cardâ? That reaction is intrinsically tied to moments of a change in card frame. As you may expect, with each new unveiling of these premium cards, some players echoed that same sentiment. So letâs take a look at each of the four frames used so far to analyze how flavor is distinctly communicated on these cards versus any of their former versions. To note: I am using the double-face land frame in my analysis because it was initially intended to be the Ixalan Masterpiece frame before the plans were scrapped for that set. Up first is the Zendikar Expedition, the forerunner of the series. This frame is a hybrid between the full-art lands from the same set and the Game Day Promos I discussed earlier. It has an illustration box that curves at the top and squares out at the bottom and employs the same Hedron texture found on Devoid cards, except it continues throughout the rest of the frame. In order to display as much of the illustration as possible, the type line was moved from the middle to the bottom, and the textbox was rendered semi-transparent. Although they were marketed as âfull-artâ lands, players lamented that the rules text took up too much space and prevented that desired effect. Overall, though, these look and feel very much like a Magic card, and they blew audiences away. This frame worked. The Kaladesh Inventions, overall, are actually much more traditional Masterpieces than the Expeditions, save the coloring and, again, the ever-important card frame. To convey the steampunk world full of artifacts and innovation, Magic artist Tyler Jacobson partnered with in-house graphic designer Liz Leo and painted the filigree to give these frames a âhandcrafted feelâ. The copper treatment of both the title and type lines blended seamlessly with this intricate texturing, which elevated the art direction of the pieces. Cards like Sol Ring and Mana Crypt were certainly standouts that exemplified this harmony between frame and illustration. Other than these small aesthetic modifications, the frame itself is, as its core, an M15 design. Important to note, it has that same black border surrounding it. Although the goal of both of these Masterpieces was to incite immersion into their respective worlds, functionality was held as the priority of their designs. Per Mark Rosewaterâs article in 2003, âwhen flavor and function butt heads, the more flexible item needs to give in to the less flexible. Function has much less flexibility than flavor, and flavor is thus more adaptable.â This has been at the core of Magicâs design philosophy for the greater half of its lifetime. In order for players to remain clear about what their fancy new cards did, the rules text was printed on the Expedition lands, which was a lesson R&D learned with the textless Promos like Cryptic Command. Not once were they seriously considering textless Expeditions. Even if most players know, by heart, Polluted Deltaâs abilities, the cardâs function still set the precedent for the visual design. The same was true for the artifacts in Kaladesh, whose experimentation existed only in the frame. And this brings us to Mind Twist and the Amonkhet Invocations. âThis does not look like a Magic card.â But why? Fundamentally, it is because flavor, for the first time since Alpha, took precedence over function. I can safely say that these are far and beyond the most flavorful cards the game has ever printed precisely because they ate away at the design space usually reserved for functionality. Every inch of this card face has been altered to cater to that Ancient Egyptian feel, which left no room to assure that the card could be playable in-game. From TheProxyGuyâs perspective, TheProxyGuy: When youâre looking at the card, thereâs too much vying for your attention. But when you go to play it, you're like "What's the name of the card?" You kind of have to dig that out. "What's the mana cost?" Because there's not colors, I have to find that. "What's the card type?" That can be completely varied. On a creature, where IS the power/ toughness? Because they did that vertical little piece on the side and it's difficult. But all of that combined, was just almost overwhelming. There was just too much going on. Sam: In the title bar alone, we have six different border layers starting with a flashy golden bar and ending with a three-dimensional, shadowed slab that feeds into the illustration. Beneath that, a pair of capitals nestle up to two thick sidebars designed to mimic stone columns. Then, another series of textured layers building the type line. A huge drop shadow commands a fifth of the real estate in the textbox, which itself sits between two more colored slabs embossed with golden bidents. Finally, along the bottom is another panel for the collectorâs information, more horns to house the authenticity stamp, and two more layers of golden adornment with drop shadows of their own. The biggest strike against functionality with these cards were the illegibility of the title and type lines, which was an intentional design decision by R&D. They wanted players to feel like they were reading ancient hieroglyphics, and to this point they succeeded. Again, the flavor took precedence over clarity of information. Secondly, the area designated for the artwork was heavily shrunk to accommodate the three dimensional frame. TheProxyGuy: What failed mostâand a lot of people will sayâyou can't read them. I can't comment too much on that only because I've spent so much time staring at it that I don't have a problem seeing them anymore. The shrinking of the art was by far my least favorite aspect of it. And finally, the textbox has its own host of issues that still irk me despite my attitude changing about these cards over time. The font here, called Shango Gothic, is supposed to resemble letters being carved into stone, and thus was kept in all-caps. For cards like Counterspell, the effect is bold and it works. The text is also center-justified, which has only happened on a handful of cards with minimal amounts of rules text. This becomes a highly problematic design decision with modal cards like Austere Command. As you can see here, âChoose Twoâ had to be lowered to respect that gigantic drop shadow, which squashed the four modes into a tiny space that the lower Bolas horns impose upon, too. Look at Daze, and youâll find these capital letters fight heavily with the formatting and barely fit between those shadows. But even cards like Capsize and Diabolic Edict deserve at least a little personalized attention to their formatting so that the text on their bottom rows isnât heavily outbalanced by the ones above them. âSacrifices a Creatureâ should just absolutely be its own line to create the same balance found on Damnation. In essence, that same highly-tailored art direction that blended the card frame and illustration on the Kaladesh Masterpieces should have been employed here between the rules text and the font formatting. All aesthetic complaints aside, though, the Invocations have grown on the playerbase and on me over time in spite of the initial backlash. Their design was bold and pushed the card frame to unrecognizable extremes. However, holistically, they still obeyed the central tenets that make up a Magic card. They can still be divided, like any other card, into the three horizontal sections. All of the critical information that M15 prioritized is still there, even if it is lost in the havoc. Adding that same 2mm black border could have certainly helped ground these designs a bit more, too. And we can expect to see card frames explore this space further into the future, especially for the Masterpiece series. The precedence set by the Invocations was followed-up by a treasure-map style card frame that also dropped the traditional title lines, type lines, and text boxes to push the flavor of a world built around exploration. Once again, this frame prioritized flavor, but still leveraged a baseline functionality that was missing from the Invocations. Players came around quicker to these, too, despite outcrying once again that these âdid not look like a Magic cardâ. So I would like to conclude this gigantic video with one final thought on how to approach any future card frames that may break the mold established by M15 and prior. And to do so, Iâm going back to a favorite film of mine, Ferris Buellerâs Day Off. If you havenât seen it yet, worry not: there wonât be any big spoilers. In the film, one center of great dramatic tension exists between this character, Cameron, and his mega strict dad, who we never actually see on screen. We know, though, that he loves this car more than anything else in the world, including, according to Cameron, his own son. Ferris, being the nonchalant and reckless friend he is, decides to take the car for a spin around Chicago. Critical to this plot point, we learn that the car has virtually zero miles on it, which means that Cameronâs dad has no actual interest in using this machine for its intended purpose. Itâs just a trophy piece, and not a real means of transportation. In this example, then, the car is just a simulacrum of a car; itâs flashy, but completely dysfunctional. The Amonkhet Invocations are the same thing. Despite the fact that they can technically be played in decks, I treat these cards the same way Cameronâs dad treats his Ferrari: purely as collectorsâ items. That should be their purpose. Where they fail entirely on functionality, they greatly succeed in delivering that immersive experience, that pleasure that comes from owning a piece of treasure despite it serving no real use. Where the Expeditions and Masterpieces found the balance between flavor, function, utility, and glamour, akin to a Lexus or a Tesla, the Invocations should be placed in a category of their own, like a Ferrari in a showroom. Because I sincerely believe we are going to continue to receive frames that may not necessarily match our established expectations. Magic, after all, is a game about change. To note, this is Magicâs 25th year Anniversary, and what better way to shake the foundations like 8th Edition did on their 10th birthday than with the debut of new visual designs? From Mark Rosewaterâs Drive to Work podcast #445: âOne of the things that I'm trying to show today is that, early on, we very rarely added new frames⌠weâre a lot more willing now to use frame changes to either a) do things we couldnât do without them or b) help you communicate what weâre doing and make gameplay easier for you. Thereâs some future frame stuff thatâs really cool that I can't talk about you because you guys don't know about it yet, but there's some future frame stuff... we are getting bolder and bolder with what weâre willing to try with the frame, and itâs really opening up a lot of cool design space.â Now the question is: will those frames be Teslas or Ferraris? Thanks for watching. I am a proud partner of Cardkingdom. Use "Cardkingdom.com/studies" to help support me and maybe pick up some Magic products like some cards with funky frames from Magic's Past. That'd be awesome! Thank you!
8:46 - "This change bothered folks at first, which of course will become an ongoing motif"
Sounds about right lol
49 minutes from Rhystic Studies aka /u/themagicmansam about card frames?
Straps in for the next hour
Post video edit: Well done! Definitely worth the watch if you're intimidated by the length
I still remember sitting down on my amonkhet prerelease, opening my first booster, pulling an invocation.
Me: "WOW! An invocation!"
people asked: "which one?"
Me: "I... I don't know!"
This. This is to me the single greatest YouTube video about Magic: the Gathering so far. I am genuinely and extremely overjoyed that I was able to watch it. I want to shout out complete Kudos to the Magic Man Sam for producing another video that takes enjoyment of this game to the next level.
The magic card frame has been an important subject for me. Lots of players that I talk to about it give me a weird look, as if i'm crazy or something. But just like many other elements of the card, they're almost vital.
Now i'm a big fan of the M15 border. I've been playing since Return to Ravnica but as soon as I saw it I adored it. I am as much a collector as I am a player, and I believe the M15 frame was a godsend. It's great, it's fantastic. The only thing I'm not really a fan of is the holofoil stamp. However, I understand why it's there. I think that people don't appreciate it as much as they should.
Now, I've never been a fan of the Amonkhet Invocations, and even after watching this video I'm still not. But I must say that the biggest problem with the Invocations wasn't the frame, it was the bizarre choice of unreadable fonts.
Excellent, Excellent video. This was absolutely amazing and you bet I'm going to be sharing this with anyone I know who plays magic.
Amazing as always, /u/themagicmansam. Super glad that I can help support this series that explores the less gameplay oriented side of Magic.
While I'll always be partial to the original frames, this has definitely made me appreciate the modern frame more, and realize that it not only cleans up the game for us, but lets them explore interesting design space that is really only possible with the m15 frame. Invocations have definitely grown on me as well, and I am excited for future masterpieces and what unique designs they come up with.
I just watched a nearly 50 minutes long video about card frames and enjoyed it.
Fuck am i doing with my life?
A video worthy of applause with your feet and hands and still not be a suitable level of appreciation.
Almost an hour of time well spent.
I didn't think I was going to sit there and watch the whole thing but once I started I couldn't stop!
Over 40 minutes?? Damn count me in! Always love /u/themagicmansam 's videos