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Platinum Angel

    AKA the Platinum Angel or Standoff in Honolulu is a funny story of a kid and his Platinum Angel card in MTG fandom. The story started from The Magic Lampoon site but had since shut down though an archive of the page still exists.

    The big story of the Honolulu Pro Tour wasn’t Kazuya Mitamura’s $40,000 victory in the finals. The big story happened in the first round, where a young boy known only as Hans did something that is causing many to call him a hero.
    
    Hans’s game was looking unwinnable. He had a negative life total and was kept alive only by his Platinum Angel. His opponent had just cast a Molder Slug, threatening to remove the Angel — Hans’s only artifact — at the beginning of his next turn.
    
    But when it got to that next turn, Hans would say a word that would put the whole series of events in motion. A word that would send ripples throughout Magic history. A word that would cement Hans’s legendary status.
    
    Hans stared at his opponent and said, “No.”
    
    His opponent was taken aback. “Judge!” said the opponent. “He’s refusing to follow my Molder Slug’s triggered ability.”
    
    “Refusing?”
    
    “Refusing.”
    
    “Is this true, Hans?”
    
    Hans nodded.
    
    The judge said, “I have to issue you a game loss, Hans.”
    
    Hans pointed to his Platinum Angel. “I can’t lose the game,” he said. And with that, he proceeded to his draw step, undaunted by the judge’s ruling. Then he skimmed through his deck for marked cards and put those into his hand as well.
    
    “You’re violating multiple game rules,” said the judge, “in addition to ignoring my ruling, and I am issuing a game loss to you.”
    
    Hans, his finger still stuck to the Platinum Angel, like a modern day Little Dutch Boy with his finger plugging the leak in the dike, said, “You can issue all the game losses you want, but with my Platinum Angel in play, they have no effect.” Hans proceded to the attack phase and swung for 4 with his Angel. He then looked at his opponent’s face-down morphs, referred to outside notes, and substituted cards from his sideboard.
    
    The judge stood before him, flummoxed. Without saying a word, Hans merely looked at the judge while pointing to the Platinum Angel.
    
    It was when Hans cast a Demonic Attorney that the head judge was called over. “Ante cards are banned,” the head judge said. “That’s a complete violation of the rules.” But when he saw Hans’s Platinum Angel in play, he was quieted. He knew he was defeated.
    
    Hans said, “Since the Demonic Attorney’s in the game, we have to do what it says.” He proceeded to put the top card of his opponent’s deck into his trade binder.
    
    The head judge frowned in disapproval. “He’s right.”
    
    It was a matter of hours before Hans owned his opponent’s entire deck, as well many other cards from his opponent’s collection, thanks to a Mindslaver and Ring of Ma’rûf. Each time judges tried to issue Hans a game loss for casting cards without mana, or playing cards in his graveyard, Hans merely pointed to his Platinum Angel.
    
    The cards Hans didn’t want to take from his opponent he tore up, due to interactions involving Chaos Confetti, March of the Machines, and Cytoshape.
    
    Having by this time gathered quite a crowd, Hans produced a folded and wrinkled copy of the DCI Infraction Procedure Guide from his pocket and began skimming it for ideas. He noticed that kicking an opponent’s chair out from under them was listed under “Unsportsmanlike Conduct,” so he did just that. He also kicked the chairs out from under several other nearby players and spectators.
    
    The sun was starting to set. The judges had not even attempted to give Hans a game loss for stalling. One by one, they had hanged their heads and walked away, resigned to their powerlessness in the face of the Platinum Angel. Then one of them hatched a plan. “I know who we can call,” the judge exclaimed.
    
    The next morning, Hans was woken by a voice blaring across the room from a police loudspeaker. “Hans,” the voice said, “this is your mother. I love you. Please sacrifice your Platinum Angel to the Molder Slug’s triggered ability so this can all end.”
    
    Hans lifted his head, looked around the room, and kicked his opponent’s chair out from under him once more.
    
    “Hans,” his mother said, “we miss you. We just want you to come home.”
    
    Hans yawned, cast the Unglued card Handcuffs, and ordered his opponent to touch his hands together.
    
    It was Day Four of the standoff when another voice blared across the room. “Hans,” the voice said, “this is your fiancé. There are only two more days until our wedding, honey. Don’t you still want to get married? You have to end this game now, Hans. Please just sacrifice the Platinum Angel to the Molder Slug. We love you. We’re worried about you.”
    
    Hans’s mouth hung open, agape. A tear came to his eye. “Marcia,” he said. “I love you too.” He looked about him, seemingly aghast at what he had done. “I…” he paused. “I concede.”
    
    A flurry of applause burst through the room. Judges began high-fiving each other and giving Marcia hugs. “Unfortunately,” Hans said, “the concession has no effect since my Platinum Angel is still in play.”
    
    It was two weeks into the game when the military showed up. “Hans,” came a voice from a helicopter. “We have you surrounded. If you do not concede immediately, we will open fire.”
    
    Hans looked up at the helicopter, over at the tanks, and across the street at the snipers. He was still pointing to the Platinum Angel, as stoically as ever.
    
    To this day, a sleeved Platinum Angel remains embedded in Hans’s tombstone. Hans may have lost his life that day, but he never lost the game.

    I own an Alfa Acta Minigun for home defense, since that’s what Scotty and June intended

      I own an Alfa Acta Minigun for home defense, since that's what Scotty and June intended. Three Lights break into my cashout. "What the 'SPUZE?" As I grab my dome shield and olfactory sensor minigun. Blow a hundred pebble sized holes through the first man, he's eliminated on the spot. Draw my RPG on the second man, miss him entirely because it's nerfed into the ground and nails the other team's healer Medium. I have to resort to the pyro mines in my pocket, "This'll protect us!" the mines torch 2 contestants in the blast, the AOE damage protects the cashout. Pull out the minigun and beam the last terrified mosquito. He dies to afterburn waiting for his teammates to respawn since quick cash changes are goddamn abysmal. Just as Scotty and June intended. 

      IS THAT A FREAKING 🗿🗿🗿 THE FINALS 🗿🗿🗿 REFERENCE?!?

        Its the TNO copypasta but changed into The Finals.

        GOOD HEAVENS, IS THAT A FREAKING 🗿🗿🗿 THE FINALS 🗿🗿🗿 REFERENCE?!?!?! 🔥🔥🔥 CASH OUT 🔥🔥🔥 OR GET OUT 🚪🏃💨 LIGHT BUILDS 🔪💨 ARE SO BASED 😎😎😎 MEDIUM MAINS 💪🧠 ARE THE TRUE GAMERS 💯💯💯 HEAVY HITTERS 💣💥 ARE JUST TRYHARDS 🤢🤮🤮 TURRETS 🤖🔫 ARE FOR NOOBS 😂😂😂 DON'T FORGET TO GRAB THOSE VAULTS 🏦💸 AND YEET THOSE CONTAINERS 📦💨💨 I'M LITERALLY SHAKING RN 🥶🥶🥶 THIS GAME IS PEAK 🏔️🎮 PEAK I TELL YOU!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️ IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE FINALS YOU'RE A 🤡🤡🤡 NO CAP 🧢🚫 

        Please cancel Forza Horizon

          Its a joke on what the locals have to go through when the Horizon Festival is happening in the Forza Horizon series.

          To Whom It May Concern at the Forza Horizon Event Office,
          
          I hope this letter finds you well—and preferably at a complete stop, with your parking brake engaged.
          
          I am a long-suffering resident of this once peaceful city that you all have decided to turn into your personal arcade racetrack. While I can appreciate the thrill of speed, loud engines, and seeing a Bugatti do donuts on my front lawn, I must politely ask: have you people completely lost your minds?
          
          Let me break down a very normal Tuesday morning in the life of a city resident during a Horizon Festival:
          
          • 7:00 AM: A Lamborghini flies past my house, airborne, I might add, after launching off a conveniently placed ramp (aka my neighbor’s garage).
          
          
          • 7:05 AM: Someone in a souped-up Subaru drifts around the roundabout. It’s not even a full circle anymore—just a “slightly curved suggestion.”
          
          
          • 7:15 AM: I try to leave for work. I’m immediately rear-ended by a Ford Bronco going 130 mph—driven by someone with the gamertag “xX-T0kyoSlideXx.”
          
          
          • 7:17 AM: The Bronco is now doing burnouts in my vegetable garden. My tomatoes are traumatized.
          
          I understand the Horizon Festival is “all about freedom and style,” but there are only so many times I can replace my mailbox before I begin mailing legal threats instead. And let’s talk noise pollution: every time I try to watch a movie, some maniac in a twin-turbo V12 decides it’s the perfect moment to set a new land speed record outside my window. Fast X has nothing on you people.
          
          Furthermore, my cat now lives under the couch permanently. She thinks the revving of engines is a sign of the end times.
          
          Therefore, I kindly request—no, beg—that you shut this chaos circus down, or at the very least relocate it to a nice, uninhabited wasteland like the moon. Or Florida.

          Emperor Palpatine statement after Mon Mothma’s speech

            Its satire on how Palpatine would have responded to Mon Mothma speech in the Senate exposing him but with Trump’s style. The iconic scene was from Andor S2E9.

            Wow. Just heard the FAKE NEWS coming out of the Senate. AGAIN. Here we go — another pathetic, desperate attack from RADICAL LEFT LUNATIC Mon Mothma (Total Disaster, everyone knows it — even my boss - I mean, Jar Jar’s smarter, and that’s saying something!).
            
            She’s out there CRYING on the Senate floor (SO SAD!) talking about a “Massacre” on Ghorman. Folks, let me tell you: THERE. WAS. NO. MASSACRE. It’s all FAKE HOLO. The Ghor People LOVE ME — they were CHEERING, throwing flowers, saluting the Troopers. It was a PEACEFUL PROTEST. A BEAUTIFUL PROTEST. Some even said it was the most PERFECT use of a plaza in the history of the Galaxy — maybe ever!
            
            This whole thing? A HOAX. A TOTAL HOAX. Made up by PATHETIC LOSERS who miss the old days under Chancellor Valorum — weak, boring, couldn't lead a podrace if his life depended on it. Under his administration, the Trade Federation was BLOCKADING ENTIRE PLANETS. Remember Naboo? TOTAL DISASTER. That would NEVER have happened under ME.
            
            Now these WOKE SENATORS — low-IQ, low-energy people — are trying to CANCEL the Empire. They want to DEFUND the Stormtroopers, Open the Borders to illegal ALIENS, and let the REBELS teach your Children that the Force has more than two Sides. IT’S DISGUSTING.
            
            And Mon Mothma? She’s a FRAUD. She supported Valorum’s Policies, she HATES the Troops, and frankly — and People agree with me on this — she’s a very NASTY woman. She’s never done ANYTHING for the Galaxy except Talk, Talk, Talk. NO ACTION. Just WORDS. BAD WORDS. TREASONOUS WORDS.
            
            Meanwhile under ME — your STRONG, HANDSOME EMPEROR — the Galaxy has NEVER BEEN BETTER. The Death Star is AHEAD OF SCHEDULE. Crime is DOWN. Jobs are UP. Jedi are GONE. And Morale is through the Roof — I had a Meeting with Darth Vader, and he told me, “My Lord, this is the most SUCCESSFUL GALAXY we’ve ever had.” NOT KIDDING.
            
            SO TO ALL THE HATERS AND LOSERS: STOP LYING. STOP WHINING. THE EMPIRE IS DOING AMAZING. WE’RE WINNING AGAIN.
            
            MAKE THE GALAXY GREAT AGAIN.
            
            Mine sincerely, Emperor Sheev Palpatine

            People saw this and voted for this twice, it’s so unreal.

            Look, having dark side -- my uncle was a great lord of the Sith so powerful and so wise, Darth Plagueis 'The Wise' of CIS; good midichlorians, very good midichlorians, OK, very wise, the Naboo School of Finance, very powerful, very wise - if you're a Sith Lord, if I were a Jedi Master, if, like OK, if I ran as a Jedi Master, they would say I am one of the wisest people in the galaxy - It's true! - but when you are a Sith Lord they try - oh, it's not a story the Jedi would tell you - that's why I always start off: went to Naboo, was a good senator, went there, went there, did this, built an Empire - you know I have to give my credentials all the time, because we are a little scarred and deformed - but you look at the dark side, the thing that really bothers me - it would have been so easy, and it's not as important as these lives of the ones he cared about are - The dark side is powerful, some consider it to be unnatural; my uncle explained that to me many, many years ago, the power, and that was 35 years ago; he would explain the power of what's going to happen and he was right, who could have foreseen? - but when you look at what's going on with the two Sith - now it used to be one, now there are two of them, this is getting out of hand - and even now, I would have said it's all in the messenger; fellas, and it is fellas because, you know, they don't, they haven't figured out that the women and the children too are smarter right now than the men, so, you know, it's gonna take them another millennia - but the Jedi are great negotiators, his apprentice was a great negotiator, so, and they, they just killed us, they just killed us in our sleep. 

            Full Mon Mothma Speech Transcript (Ep. 9)

            Fellow Senators, friends, colleagues, allies, adversaries. I stand before you this morning with a heavy heart. I’ve spent my life in this chamber. I came here as a child. And as I look around now, I realize I have almost no memories that pre-date my arrival and few bonds of affection that cleave so tightly. Through these many years, I believe I have served my constituents honorably and upheld our code of conduct. This chamber is a cauldron of opinions and we’ve certainly all had our patience and tempers tested in pursuit of our ideals. Disagree as we might, I am hopeful that those of you who know me will vouch for my credibility in the days to come. I stand this morning with a difficult message. I believe we are in crisis. The distance between what is said and what is known to be true has become an abyss. Of all the things at risk, the loss of an objective reality is perhaps the most dangerous. The death of truth is the ultimate victory of evil. When truth leaves us, when we let it slip away, when it is ripped from our hands, we become vulnerable to the appetite of whatever monster screams the loudest. This Chamber’s hold on the truth was finally lost on the Ghorman Plaza. What took place yesterday… what happened yesterday on Ghorman was unprovoked genocide! Yes! Genocide! And that truth has been exiled from this chamber! And the monster screaming the loudest? The monster we’ve helped create? The monster who will come for us all soon enough is Emperor Palpatine! 

            Having to call a judge “your honor” is so cringey and dumb

              Having to call a judge “your honor” is so cringey and dumb
              
              “Your Honor”. I mean gimmie a fuckin’ break, dude. What else do you want me to call you? Your highness? Do you want me to fondle your nuts while I blow you, too?
              
              I’ve seriously seen courtrooms where they’ll say “Sir” and the judge will be like “It’s “Your Honor” young man!!”
              
              Fuck off. How much of an egotist you gotta be to care about some medieval-ass title?
              
              It’s some LARPING I’d expect kids to do. “Oh Billy you have to call me supreme ruler snorlax the magical wizard!!1!”
              
              Shut up.