Note: for my own convenience, I will address characters from the Yu-Gi-Oh! manga and anime with their original Japanese names. However, I will stick with the localized names for the trading cards.
Thanks to AShadowLink and Hamada for helping with edits.
Several games star avatars who we, the players, are meant to project ourselves on to. Sometimes they’re customizable, sometimes they’ll sport personalities, and other times they’re total blanks. Depending on a game’s needs, any of these can be a great approach. Today, we’ll briefly discuss a mute avatar who has grown into a surprisingly prominent fixture in his franchise.
The Vagabond, as Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Links dubs him (Image: Shueisha/Konami)
In most Yu-Gi-Oh! video games, you play as yourself and duel characters from the series. Early games never draw much attention to you, at most only displaying your opponents’ portraits. Game Boy Advance titles Sacred Cards and Reshef of Destruction are a touch more elaborate, showing you physically traverse their settings through an avatar. Then, in 2006, Konami would stabilize our Yu-Gi-Oh! surrogate…
The Vagabond’s History
Yu-Gi-Oh! GX Tag Force stars you, a freshman student attending the prestigious Duel Academy. Unsurprisingly, you name yourself at the start of the game and can team up with characters from Yu-Gi-Oh! GX. Tag Force saw a console re-release, Yu-Gi-Oh! GX The Beginning of Destiny, and two direct sequels, Tag Force 2 and 3. Once GX ended and Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D’s began, Tag Force graduated to it for its fourth, fifth, and sixth entries. 2015’s ARC-V Tag Force Special, a crossover incorporating characters from every iteration of Yu-Gi-Oh! at the time, is the series’ final installment. Although continuity across Tag Force isn’t especially emphasized, they share their hero and later games sometimes make nods to their predecessors. Assuming the Placido (Primo) route in Tag Force 5 carries canonical weight, our stand-in is a time-displaced robot, explaining why he never physically ages.
Where contemporaries like Pokémon, Minecraft, and Fire Emblem offer their avatars in male and female varieties, the Tag Force series bizarrely doesn’t. (Image: Shueisha/Konami)
This globetrotter transcends Tag Force. His clothes are an unlockable in Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D’s World Championship 2010: Reverse of Arcadia and 2011: Over the Nexus. Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal: World Duel Carnival also stars an incarnation of him, and a color-swapped one briefly cameos in an episode of the show. The red and blue varieties of this player adorn Konami’s Remote Duel initiative. Mobile game Duel Links features both, respectively, as the Vagabond and the Vagrant, powerful wanderers “steeped in legend and shrouded in mystery.” Finally, a featureless Vagabond is the default profile picture for players in Yu-Gi-Oh! Master Duel.
So, what’re my thoughts on the Vagabond?
One of my favorite characters in this medium is Red, the protagonist of Pokémon Red, Blue, & Yellow (and their 2004 remakes, FireRed & LeafGreen). While playing those monochromatic role-playing games, I lived vicariously through him — I was an underdog who became champion, carving my own legend. Tag Force, conversely, thrusts a blank slate into reworked versions of Yu-Gi-Oh!’s narratives. That’s still fine, though. Obviously, I’m not friends with Duel Monsters champion Yusei Fudo, nor do I duel demons, monster spirits, or time travelers. But there’s silly fun to be had in pretending through Tag Force. Here, everyone in Yu-Gi-Oh! of import adores me and I happily, reliably get them out of jams.
The Vagabond’s GX, 5D’s, and ARC-V-era outfits resemble those of Judai Yuki (Jaden Yuki), Yusei, and Yuya Sakaki, their respective protagonists. His hat from the GX games sits in his apartment during the 5D’s games, too. (Image: Shueisha/Konami)
And the Vagabond resembles Red. Both are silent protagonists, though their passion for their respective sports is very palpable. Visually, the Duelist takes after the pioneering Pokémon Trainer; both wear predominantly red clothing, baseball caps, and confident, sly smirks. And their enigmatic natures elevate their encores, when the heroes appear as bonus bosses in later games. Seeing Red in Gold & Silver and the Vagabond in Duel Links is exciting, challenging veterans to best shadows of themselves.
Still, one critical difference exists between the two: Red represents Pokémon’s raison d’être, the sense of exploring, earning others’ respect, and collecting and raising monsters. Underneath the cynical merchandising, questionable card balancing, and mostly poor fillers and spin-offs, Yu-Gi-Oh!’s idealistic core is of forging friendships. It’s about bonding with others through games, pushing each other to improve and have fun. Consequently, this romanticized self-insert can’t represent me, not really; our histories are entirely different. And mine means so much more to me than his.
So, what’re my thoughts on the Yu-Gi-Oh! Trading Card Game?
If you’ve been following me since my Nerd Underground days, then 1) thanks for sticking with me, and 2) you’ve heard this spell before. (Image: Shueisha/Konami)
Discussing the Vagabond was admittedly a trojan horse, a vehicle through which I had an excuse to segue into a topic that’s dear to my heart. So, now, let’s chronicle my experiences playing the Yu-Gi-Oh! Trading Card Game. This will be long, thorough, and slightly embarrassing — but if you’re curious to learn a bit about my history, please join me.
Although I can’t remember exactly how I discovered the multimedia franchise back during 2002, I was in middle school at the time and within Yu-Gi-Oh!’s target demographic. I started watching 4Kids’ awful dub, which naturally made me curious to try the card game. Knowing this, a friend gave me a damaged copy of “Reverse Trap.” Soon, I bought both starter decks and a pack of the new Metal Raiders set, pulling a “Magician of Faith” in the latter (some of these cards would maintain secure positions in my deck for years). I began playing with friends during recess, one of whom would mentor me, and I even began competing in tournaments. I, officially, had become a Duelist.
If you want to know more about the metagame during this nascent era of Yu-Gi-Oh!, check out Roobindale’s excellent retrospective. (Image: Shueisha)
No matter how good a mentor may be, though, it means little if you discard his advice. I simply didn’t grasp the art of deck building, keeping a lean, focused one. Instead, I lugged around an unwieldy stack of sixty (or more!) cards, most of them dead weight. If I was in dire need of, say, “Monster Reborn,” I rarely drew it. And though “Dark Magician” looked cool on TV, significantly more practical options existed. Oh, but I had an excuse: “I’m losing because I don’t have all the expensive, rare cards everyone else has!” Though that did, in fairness, place me at a disadvantage, owning them ultimately wouldn’t have mattered much.
By the time I entered high school, my usual haunts, a local card shop and Toys “R” Us, either closed or stopped hosting tournaments. Only one outlet remained active, and I spent many a Saturday and Sunday there. Some colorful characters frequented here, too. Chief among them was the ironically nicknamed Angel, a leather jacket aficionado who once took out a pocket knife, threatening to use it on anyone who dared touch his precious cards. Still, I was a regular, a proud member of this weird but mostly wholesome group.
Alas, declaring an unwavering belief in your deck does not statistically increase your odds of drawing something useful in real life. (Image: Shueisha)
It’s here where I slowly started changing how I approach the game. Have you ever sat with a “brick hand,” few Life Points, and an empty, vulnerable field, meaning everything hinged on what you drew next? I’ve been there, and one particularly crushing loss came about during a tag match because I drew “Buster Blader.” Although it was my favorite card, it sadly never proved itself an asset, and drawing it then made for a frustrating loss. But I needed that experience. I finally had an epiphany: if a card isn’t effective, then it shouldn’t be in my deck, and I spent that night reassessing mine. For this effort, my win record slowly started improving, and a lucky placement in a subsequent tournament earned me a booster of the newest set, late 2004’s Dark Crisis. I pulled “Vampire Lord,” one of its most sought after cards. Once the next set, Invasion of Chaos, hit the following March, I bought a few packs and was gifted “Chaos Emperor Dragon – Envoy of the End,” one of the most comically overpowered cards to ever grace the game. Actually, I pulled two, so I traded the spare away. In return, I got some of the staples I was missing, helping close the gap between me and my rivals.
Still, some drama began stirring. Something was coming, something that would forever alter Yu-Gi-Oh!: its first ban list. Honestly, despite the complaining I heard, this was necessary for the health and longevity of the game. And thankfully, it helped me. Sure, I lost access to a few of my strongest cards, but so did everyone else. Plus, we were all adapting, trying to make sense of this new playing field. And I rose above most of my competition; I now had a clean forty card deck, which was at its peak. My loose “beatdown” deck matured into a “Chaos” one, which incorporated an effective gimmick: use “Scapegoat,” and then use “Metamorphosis” to summon “Thousand-Eyes Restrict,” locking my foes’ monsters down. I lost the “Envoy of the End” and still lacked a “Black Luster Soldier – Envoy of the Beginning,” but I did have “Chaos Sorcerer.” The “poor man’s Chaos” usurped “Buster Blader” as my favorite card, and I ran as many as I was permitted.
This jerk was so notorious that its banning is even a plot point in GX. Today, “Chaos Emperor Dragon” is no longer on the forbidden list, since its effect was nerfed considerably. (Image: Shueisha)
Though I wasn’t the best player, I won or was the runner up in plenty of tournaments. I even graduated into a mentorship role myself, helping newer players, and ran most of the tournaments. By this point, I even taught harsh lessons to those in need of them. One day, a newcomer entered the store, walked up to us, and boastfully said he wanted to challenge “the best player here.” I smiled, casually explaining that, since the two best players weren’t there that day, he’d have to settle for me. I thoroughly, utterly destroyed him, rendering him completely speechless. I also sympathized with him, having been in that position myself, so I helped reconstruct his deck and suggested some strategies. Then he undid my changes, left, and we never saw him again. Oops?
Unfortunately, this humble hobby shop was not long for this world. All of the remaining stock was generously given away during the final weeks, with almost everyone getting something. The last weekend was bittersweet, one rife with multiple matches going on as we said our goodbyes — though not before exchanging contact information. Other stores were still hosting tournaments, none of which were situated near me. Also, the latest ban list neutered my deck, and though I respected why (that “Metamorphosis” combo was pretty busted), I wasn’t eager to effectively rebuild it from scratch. That was it, then. After three or so years of making and playing with friends through Yu-Gi-Oh!, I shelved my cards and retired…
Shortly before I quit, I bought a “Black Luster Soldier – Envoy of the Beginning,” figuring I might get to use it someday. And, as if by the grace of the legendary Pharaoh Atem himself, I did. (Image: Shueisha)
…That’s what I thought, anyway. After our high school graduation, my former mentor and I reconnected for a nostalgia-filled rematch. I won, finally, irrefutably surpassing him. And a pleasant surprise awaited me. I was hanging out with a friend in college later that year, one day following him to the campus lounge. Upon entering, I saw a bevy of people playing a card game I knew all too well. Though one era had ended, another had begun!
This comeback did come with another change in my mindset, however. For one thing, I wasn’t interested in catching up with the metagame, learning every viable card and archetype. Plus, though I didn’t quite notice it during my original run, a major element of how Konami balances Yu-Gi-Oh! began irritating me: how fast summoning “boss monsters” had become (though the warning signs were present since at least the fourth core set, Pharaoh’s Servent. In the manga, “Jinzo,” whose then-invaluable ability negates traps, requires two tributes, which Konami reduced by one. Plus, it was introduced alongside “The Fiend Megacyber,” a “beatstick” who can potentially special summon itself for free, ignoring its tributing cost). Xyz Summoning was the hot new mechanic, and I actively disliked it. Using Fusions, Rituals, or Synchros requires working specific cards into your deck; if you can’t find space for a Tuner, for example, then you can’t Synchro Summon. Xyz Summoning forsakes that basic requirement entirely; if you simply have two monsters of the same level on the field — which is not hard to achieve — you can perform it. So, now, I was purely playing casually.
Behind its namesake hero, Katsuya Jonouchi (Joey Wheeler) is my favorite character in the franchise. (Image: Shueisha)
But whatever, I had fun playing again. This was a less “eventful” period for my card-slinging escapades, though. When I had free time, I’d just visit the lounge and play Yu-Gi-Oh! (or Smash, or Pokémon X & Y, or Puzzle League; multiple activities were always going on). Everyone had a deck unique to them, and though only a few of us could dream of competing competitively, the variety was wonderful. Unfortunately, my pal who introduced me into the group grew into my arch-rival, using a deck whose effects crippled mine. Thankfully, my “Chaos” deck otherwise held up, and I found myself integrating various “Cyber Dragon” cards — “Cyber Valley” and “Cyber Eltanin,” most infamously — into it, yielding a very entertaining (if admittedly inconsistent) combination. I, surprisingly, maintained a respectable record, even winning the one tournament we hosted (if you’re curious, I won $88, which was promptly spent on art supplies and a dinner with my dad).
And that’s it. Though I remain friends with many of my former college cohorts, my deck once again rests in storage. But hey, someday I might dust it off again. And even if I don’t, Master Duel is currently scratching my nostalgic needs.
Congratulations, Vagabond! Thanks for letting me get my game on!
Much like how I covered Dragon Ball’s Android 21, we’re not done chronicling Yu-Gi-Oh! characters. Someday, a forgotten villain from ancient Egypt will be unearthed… (Image: Shueisha/Konami)
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