I’ve been sick all week, which always puts me in a morose frame of mind. While I’ve been languishing in bed, soothed by the ministrations of acetaminophen and Gatorade, I’ve been dwelling on how many poets, philanthropists, and political activists we’ve lost in the age before potable water and penicillin. How much potential has been squandered because someone had diarrhea-induced dehydration? How many Renaissances delayed because the minds that would kick them off got too overheated with fever? Every life lost is not just the loss of the legacy of that person’s deeds, but their potential, and until very recently, we lost so many lives to preventable and treatable illnesses. That’s an absurdly portentous start to an article about Magic: the Gathering, but I did forewarn you that I’ve been moping all week. It is relevant, though—as I convalesced, I’ve also been drafting Phyrexia: All Will Be One and trying to force mono-black when I see a Phyrexian Obliterator, one of Magic’s most exemplary stories of lost potential. The Obliterator was released with much fanfare back in 2011’s New Phyrexia, which was an extremely high-powered Standard format; Obliterator’s time in Standard bridged the eras of Caw-Blade and Jace, the Mind Sculptor’s dominance and the Innistrad-era Jund decks. It traded at a quick clip at Prereleases, going for $20 a copy, and has fluctuated between that baseline and $40, even through reprints, proving its continuous role as a casual staple. Obliterator’s failure to take flight in Standard—twice, I’m predicting with great confidence—hasn’t diminished its significant appeal.
Obliterator is both unique and nostalgic, which is a powerful draw. There have only been four cards with the casting cost BBBB in Magic’s history: Alpha’s Lich, Odyssey’s Nefarious Lich, Planar Chaos’ Temporal Extortion, and Phyrexian Obliterator. There are others that contain that black-heavy cost, from Legions icon Phage the Untouchable to current Standard pillar Invoke Despair to army creators like Empty the Pits and Their Number is Legion, but there’s something so iconic about that devoted-but-minimalist casting cost that has kept Obliterator afloat as a Magic touchstone. For old school players, BBBB doesn’t mean “four Swamps;” it means “two Swamps and a Dark Ritual,” something that Phyrexian Obliterator deliberately implies.
Obliterator has nothing in common with the Liches or Temporal Extortion—instead, its progenitor is one-time tournament staple Phyrexian Negator. The gag of Obliterator’s mana cost is that Phyrexian Negator’s casting cost might as well have been BBB—at the times when it saw play, it was most frequently fired off after a Dark Ritual. Standard decks back in 1999 were often essentially decided rock-paper-scissors-style, but none more so than the mono-Black aggro decks of the era, which sought to land an early Phyrexian Negator and ride it to victory while your opponent was still marshaling various Savannah Lions and casting Whispers of the Muse. Alternately, it got hit with a Shock and you had to sacrifice the Negator and your sole Swamp. One way or the other, your match could end in five minutes flat—which wasn’t uncommon, considering this was the era of Combo Winter, evolutions of Sligh, and Deadguy Red.
Negator was also attractive as the pinnacle of a design trend that defined Black. Back in Magic’s early days, Black creatures had massive drawbacks, from Lord of the Pit to Eviscerator. Some, like Flesh Reaver were deckbuilding puzzles (Circle of Protection: Black made Reaver less painful, for example), while others were absolute garbage like Grollub and Reclusive Wight. Others were aggressive enough and the drawbacks minimal enough that they were tournament staples, like Carnophage and its partner Sarcomancy. At the time, Juzam Djinn was one of the most desired Black staples and most-feared finishers at the casual tables. Black players were used to being pinged or sacrificing a creature during our upkeeps. So when Urza’s Destiny brought Phyrexian Negator and tournament powerhouse Masticore, they saw immediate adoption and ubiquity. This was an era where “land a threat, protect the threat” was a valid midrange strategy, an era where Serra Angel still demanded respect. Compare Negator, with its robust 5/5 Trampling body, to previous 5/5’s in Black—Ihsan’s Shade saw play as a four-turn clock that dodged Swords to Plowshares at 3BBB, while Gallowbraid, whose stats matched the Negator, would end up costing you a hefty 10 life before it could goldfish an opponent out on turn nine. Negator, which could come down on turn one with a lucky Ritual, was cheaper, scarier, and yes, cooler than anything that came before it, suggestive of both Lord of the Pit and Juzam Djinn. Black’s ethos is all about sacrificing everything for power, and Negator told that narrative through actual gameplay. The tension of trying to keep your Negator fed felt as though you had a pact with a powerful entity, and the games where you had to sacrifice your Negator to itself, or lost your entire board to a tossed-off Fireblast were frustrating, but Faustian.
Obliterator turns that on its head—when it was spoiled in the notorious New Phyrexia “godbook” dump, the excitement was instantaneous. Instead of a drawback, the card had a flavorful advantage that still called back to Negator’s famous caveat and turned it against your opponent. The “Black creatures have cheap costs and drawbacks” hangover, which had started to dissipate since Ravnica, was now a thing of the past. Compare Obliterator to another mythic printed in the same Standard environment at the same mana value: Abyssal Persecutor was also a much-hyped Black mythic that “won” the game in four turns (of course, without a sacrifice outlet or a timely removal spell, it locked you out of winning), like Obliterator, but with the heftiest drawback ever printed on a Black creature. How could Obliterator possibly fail as a finisher, as a Standard staple, as the paragon of Black beef?
We soon found out. Obliterator suffered due to three cards printed in the same block: Go for the Throat, Vapor Snag, and Dismember. In the era of Caw-Blade, Birthing Pod, Grave Titan, and Wurmcoil Engine, a hard-to-cast win-more card that didn’t have an impact upon hitting the field just couldn’t cut it. This was the era that brought about a shift in design philosophy in Magic: creatures weren’t just blocks of stats, but began needing to have immediate effects upon entering the battlefield to justify their inclusion. This was no longer a world for Phyrexian Negators or Spiritmongers or Niv-Mizzets, but an era of Sun Titan and Thragtusk and Huntmaster of the Fells. Restoration Angel may look as though it loses a fight to Phyrexian Obliterator, but in practice, it ignores the Horror as it loops various Titans and Tusks and grinds out advantage. Every deck in the format theoretically had access to an Obliterator liquidator in Dismember, and many decks took advantage of the pseudo-Snuff Out.
So Obliterator went dormant—not close to good enough in Modern, no home in Historic, not legal in Pioneer or Explorer until now. It’s never been forgotten—it’s too splashy and appealing of a card to be completely ignored—but it never found the home it deserved. It was brought to Arena’s Historic format in a much-heralded Historic Anthology (where it failed to find purchase), periodically surfaced in optimistic mono-black Modern decks (whose pilots’ records speak for themselves), but was otherwise a relic of Magic history and an easy inclusion in Masters 25, as it still carried a high price and embodied New Phyrexia. It was so iconic to the plane, in fact, that it returned in Phyrexia: All Will Be One and was one of the earliest cards revealed.
Ironically, the Obliterator returned into a format whose mono-Black deck was spoiled for choice at the four-slot. Sheoldred, the Apocalypse is slightly smaller, but trades up, and can close a game with her passive life drain. If we want a massive beater with a quasi-drawback, Bloodvial Purveyor has been around for more than a year. Defiler of Flesh may not be as exciting as Obliterator or Sheoldred, but an evasive 4/4 that juices your Graveyard Trespasser is an option, and Sorin the Mirthless is a Vampire and card draw engine if you’re full up on Sheoldreds. We have a suite of fight spells in the format in case we want to force the issue, and believe me, I’ve tried a series of Golgari shells with Obliterator, but it feels charmingly like 2011 all over again. Go for the Throat still preys on Phyrexian Obliterator as well as it did a decade ago, Atraxa and Rakdos Reanimator go over it, and White’s efficient exile effects trade up at any point along the curve. Obliterator has a home, it’s just that every room is full, and he’s left sleeping in the cold. At least, after twelve years of also-ran/casual icon status, he’s used to it.
Magic is full of these stories of cards that never quite lived up to the hype: Odyssey Standard was supposed to be defined by Shadowmage Infiltrator, Jon Finkel’s Invitational card that supercharged Ophidian, but ended up being overwhelmed by an unassuming uncommon at the same mana cost in Psychatog. Talara’s Battalion was going to combo with Manamorphose to change the entire Extended metagame (and ended up being an also-ran to another 1G rare creature). I even seem to recall someone claiming that Ob Nixilis, the Adversary was “closer to the Oko side than the Nissa side of three-mana Planeswalkers.” That’s the beauty of Magic, though—even when a card never lives up to its potential, we never lose it. Sometimes it even comes back around and has the opportunity to shine as it never did the first time; sometimes, even more amusingly, it flops again. Lost potential is a tragedy in the real world, but in the game of Magic, it’s another way to contextualize cards. Compare the return—and Sheoldred-fueled obsolesce—of Phyrexian Obliterator to the recent return and flop of Baneslayer Angel, which soared high in tournament decks when first printed and was outclassed by the time it came back around, perfectly mirroring the hype-and-bust cycle of original White closer Serra Angel. Magic evolves, and the beauty of being a Magic player is evolving with it, while memorializing the dinosaurs and glyptodonts we’ve left behind.
Rob Bockman (he/him) is a native of South Carolina who has been playing Magic: the Gathering since Tempest block. A writer of fiction and stage plays, he loves the emergent comedy of Magic and the drama of high-level play. He’s been a Golgari player since before that had a name and is never happier than when he’s able to say “Overgrown Tomb into Thoughtseize,” no matter the format.