Magic is a beautiful game full of clever designs, tight gameplay, and occasionally… absolute dumpster fires. Today we celebrate the latter. Here are the 10 worst MTG cards—the ones that make you question playtesting, fate, and your life choices. If you own these, congrats: you’ve collected the cardboard equivalent of participation trophies.
Some context before the veterans start sharpening their pitchforks: yes, I know these cards all have their little places in history, and yes, I’ve already heard the “TELL ME YOU DON’T KNOW THE HISTORY OF THE GAME WITHOUT TELLING ME” speeches.
I’m not a total noob who just cracked their first booster this weekend, but I’m also not my buddy whose DCI number is basically single digits. I’ve been around since Rise of the Eldrazi (aka the power-creep Renaissance), so I’ve seen a few things—not all the things, but enough to call out a dumpster fire when I see one.
10) Zephyr Spirit
Six mana for a 0/6 that bounces itself to your hand whenever it blocks. So it doesn’t remove attackers, doesn’t threaten damage, and politely vacates the premises after performing the bare minimum. This isn’t a creature—it’s a “Do Not Disturb” sign.
9) Wood Elemental
A creature that asks you to sacrifice Forests to make it not embarrassing—then remains embarrassing anyway. It’s like selling your car to buy a bicycle with a flat tire. Early design weirdness at its… worst.
8) Coastal Hornclaw
Six mana for a 3/3 flyer (sometimes) in blue. Already terrible. But wait—its “special ability” is you can sacrifice a land to make it fly. Because clearly the only thing worse than a weak, overcosted creature is a weak, overcosted creature that eats your manabase to stay relevant. This isn’t a finisher; it’s a foreclosure notice.
7) Juju Bubble
This thing has cumulative upkeep, so every turn it costs more just to exist. Then, the moment you actually try to play a spell, it blows itself up like a melodramatic soap opera exit. And the reward for all this nonsense? Paying {2} to gain 1 life. Juju Bubble isn’t just a bad card—it’s a bad roommate: expensive, fragile, and constantly threatening to leave the second you try to get anything done.
6) Razor Boomerang
Equip cost, tap cost, and you have to pick it back up after throwing it. All that busywork to deal… one damage. If this were a workout plan, the only muscle you’d build is regret.
I’ve got a few of these sitting around. Worldwake was still on the shelf in my LGS when I started, so I ripped too many boxes of it (gotta chase Jace, TMS!).
5) Boris Devilboon
Yes, it’s spelled Devilboon—because casting it is a boon for your opponents. Overcosted body, slow, and demands more resources to do anything cute. If your plan is “tap four mana to drop terrible token engine,” congrats: you found your commander.
4) Mudhole
Exile all land cards from target player’s graveyard. That’s it. It’s a silver bullet for a problem that rarely exists, in a color that already solves real problems by throwing fire at them.
3) Chimney Imp
Five mana for a 1/2 flier with a death trigger that mildly annoys someone. Famous, beloved, and memed—not because it’s good, but because it’s the perfect storm of “why is this a card?”
2) One with Nothing
Instant — Discard your hand. The end. Sure, there are niche, galaxy-brain combo uses… and then there’s reality, where this card says “congratulations on playing yourself.” Also a rare, because humor.
1) Sorrow’s Path
The monarch of misery. Doesn’t tap for mana. Actively damages you and your board when you use it. Its “ability” (swapping blockers) is the sort of text that only matters in a puzzle book from 1994. If a land could neg you on Twitter, it would be Sorrow’s Path.
Dishonorable Mentions
- Break Open: Two mana to flip a face-down creature face-up—for its controller. You paid mana to help your opponent with Morph homework. eBay |
- Razorfoot Griffin (for four!): A 2/2 first strike flier… at a price that makes you question the exchange rate. eBay |
Final Thoughts
Not every card can be a Black Lotus. Some have to be the Wood Elemental that makes you appreciate good design by contrast. Roast aside, these clunkers are part of the game’s charm—and a reliable source of table banter. Which one did we miss? (If you say One with Nothing is secretly gas, we see you—and we’ll allow it… grudgingly.)
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