Do You ACTUALLY Like Reanimate, or Are You Just Terrified of Death and the Thought of Reanimation Calms Your Nerves?

Hi there, reader! I’m Dr. Foxglove, and I’m a new addition to the Commander’s Herald. I talk about things like death, sex, and trauma; and I use Magic: the Gathering to help me do it.
It would make sense, then, that our first discussion is about something near and dear to my heart; reanimation.

Yes- reanimation. It’s that sweet thrill of cheating Archon of Cruelty onto the battlefield before the rest of the pod even gets their Arcane Signets. It’s the quiet comfort of knowing that nothing is ever truly gone. And, if we’re honest, it’s the sometimes problematic enjoyment of watching our friends squirm. Don’t worry, I’m not here to shame you. I’m here to talk about the little habits that make your deck fun for you but occasionally exhausting for everyone else.

But..my graveyard is special.

Let’s start with the obvious: graveyard obsession. Yes- I see you over there shuffling through your graveyard, giggling at all of the reanimate targets you’re hoarding, whispering sweet nothings to these pieces of cardboard like a ritualistic chant. Congrats, my love, you’re displaying classic compulsive reinforcement behavior. (Yes, there’s a term for that. No, it doesn’t make you weird. Well okay it does but it’s fine. We Love weird here). But here’s the thing, dear reader, there’s a thrill in bringing creatures back from the dead. I get it. But maybe, just maybe, stop obsessing over every single card for the love of table sanity. Find your card, be ready to adapt as needed, and prepare for the inevitable Bojuka Bog

Then there’s deck overload. Remember that you’re packing for a two-day vacation, not a two-week one. What I mean is that more is not always better, my friend. Redundancy feels safe, but in reality it just makes your games the same. And inevitability, while satisfying, tends to make your friends quietly (or loudly) resent you and your play patterns. Reanimator decks work. They’re powerful. They’re fun. But part of the fun is letting skill and timing shine, not just rolling out the same thing every game. There’s, like, over 200 cards, let’s give more of them some love. 

Speaking of, yes, emotional attachment to your cards is a thing. You cry over a Soul-Guide Lantern hit, gasp at the exile of your Sheoldred, Whispering One, maybe even mutter under your breath and blink back a few tears. It’s normal. We invest emotions in objects all the time; your deck is basically therapy with more rules, less therapy chair, less guided meditation, and about the same amount of financial investment. Just remember, how your deck plays doesn’t define you. How you act does. If your self-worth is tied to one creature surviving, we have bigger problems than your graveyard being wiped and you should give me a call.

Finally, let’s talk about timing and social awareness. Yes, dropping a huge threat early is exhilarating. But, it can make you the table villain in record time. People are socially wired to react to perceived dominance, and if you’re always the one doing the dominance, prepare for pushback. Are you ready for that? Part of playing reanimator responsibly is knowing when to flex your power and when to let the game breathe a little.

“So I just don’t play it?” Not necessarily

All that to say that look, loving reanimator decks is not a flaw. Obsessing, hoarding, or terrorizing the table without awareness? That’s where trouble starts. Because like it or not nothing lasts forever. So instead of relying on the dopamine hit from making a bunch of squirmy wormies (this is a clinical term for those experiencing hopelessness) at your table, play smart, play fun, and for heaven’s sake, don’t be that person Every game.

And yes, it’s totally okay to admit that you just really like cheating big creatures into play. Don’t fight it. Just… do it with some love, grace, and understanding that you’re going to get your @%#& rocked.