Lab Report 018: My Boss is the Worst Therapist Alive

Signed, MaD SaXXon aka Tibalt’s Apprentice

So, let’s talk about my mentor for a second. You know, the one who thinks empathy is for cowards and pain is the purest form of expression? Yeah. That Tibalt.

Born on Innistrad—a plane already crawling with nightmares—Tibalt started off as your typical bitter intellectual: an alchemist obsessed with understanding suffering. Problem was, the “understanding” part fell away pretty fast. His methods? Let’s just say... peer review wasn’t an option once he started torturing people to learn about agony firsthand.

When his colleagues understandably tried to cancel him with fire, he pulled the ultimate emo move: performed a ritual that fused his soul with demons. That burst of raw emotional trauma (and hellfire) ignited his Planeswalker spark. Poof—Tibalt 2.0: half-devil, full-tilt psycho.

Since then? Chaos tourism. He's been hopping from plane to plane like a twisted art critic, using pain as his paintbrush. Sometimes he's working for villains like Nicol Bolas. Other times, he's just vibing—lighting matchsticks and watching the world scream.

Is he the strongest Planeswalker? Nah. But power's not the point. Tibalt doesn’t want to win. He wants everyone to lose. That’s how he gets his kicks.

So why do I call myself Tibalt’s Apprentice? Because in a game full of pristine white knights and righteous fireballs, someone has to study the value of unhinged chaos and sharp-edged irony. Someone has to ask the uncomfortable questions. Someone has to laugh when the board wipes hit.

Besides, have you seen that hair? You don’t not take notes from someone who can rock devil horns and a sadistic smirk with that much flair.

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