Gods Unchained: The Card Game That Made Me Think I Was a War Strategist (and Also Ruined My Weekend Plans)

Yes, it’s a crypto card game. Yes, I’m level 277. And yes, I’ve willingly sacrificed social interaction to worship the God of War like it’s a side hustle that pays in ego.

“Just one more match,” he whispered, three hours before forgetting to pick up his kid from daycare.

What Even Is Gods Unchained, and Why Am I Emotionally Invested?

Imagine if Magic: The Gathering and a blockchain had a baby — and that baby was raised by a bunch of sweaty Reddit users who love shouting “rekt” during battle animations. That’s Gods Unchained.

It’s a free-to-play tactical card game on the blockchain that lets you build decks, outwit your opponents, and pretend you’re a Greek deity who moonlights as a data hoarder.

But here’s the real twist: you own your cards. They’re minted as NFTs. This means you can sell them, trade them, or hoard them like the emotionally unavailable wizard you are. You can lose a game and still feel smug because your death priest card just sold for $4.78. I know this because it happened. I lost. Then made lunch. Then got paid. Is this what winning feels like?

Why I Play the God of War (And What That Says About Me)

Each deck is tied to a god. There’s a God of Light (for the wholesome crowd), a God of Deception (for sociopaths), and a God of War — which is who I pledged allegiance to after realizing I enjoy smashing things over developing long-term strategy.

War decks are like a drunken brawl in a philosophy class. There’s no subtlety. You enter, fists swinging, proud of your brute-force solutions like some ancient gladiator who forgot his password to nuance.

Also, I have trust issues — so I avoid the God of Deception. If I wanted to be lied to while being destroyed, I’d just open Instagram.

It’s Like Magic (The Card Game), But Now With Fewer Rules and More Existential Despair

Gods Unchained reminds me of Magic: The Gathering, the 90s game that required three things:

1. A backpack filled with cards you couldn’t afford.

2. A friend group that didn’t play sports.

3. The willingness to lose 6 hours of your life to an elf with flying.

But Gods Unchained is the evolved, more toxic cousin. Now the elf has a crypto wallet and trades black market spells on the weekend.

The best part? Every match ends with you either feeling like an unstoppable genius or questioning your purpose. No in-between. Just full-on ego inflation or quiet shame eating hummus in the dark.

The Game is Actually… Fun?

I can’t believe I’m saying this — but it’s a genuinely stimulating game. You have to think. Like, actually think. You plan, counter-plan, and anticipate what your opponent will do four turns from now. This isn’t Candy Crush for crypto bros. This is tactical warfare in a robe.

Every god has unique powers. You don’t “sort of” win — you either outmaneuver your opponent like a caffeinated chess master or die in public shame.

It scratches the same part of my brain that’s convinced I could’ve gone to law school, but without the debt or disappointment from my parents.

Diabolical Card-Buying: A Slippery Slope to Glory

You can play for free. But you’ll start browsing the marketplace at 1 a.m. like a crypto-obsessed raccoon.

Because if you just had one more spell that does 3 damage to all creatures, you’d win more, right? Just one more. You whisper this while checking out with $30 in shiny skeletons like you’re buying emotional validation from a sketchy god.

But let’s be honest. The cards are fun to collect. It’s part Pokémon, part gambling addiction, part 7th-grade fantasy nerd trying to buy his way into relevance.

How Blockchain Is Involved (And Why It Doesn’t Ruin the Fun)

Don’t worry — you don’t need to write smart contracts or pretend to understand gas fees.

The blockchain just means:

• Your cards are yours.

• You can trade them outside the game.

• There’s a weird sense of “financial dignity” when you win a match with a $12 Death Touch Minion.

Also, there’s something oddly comforting about knowing my virtual warlock is stored forever on a decentralized ledger. If that isn’t legacy, I don’t know what is.

Why This Game Might Be The Only Thing Keeping Me From Full Existential Collapse

Level 277. That’s how far I’ve spiraled. And I’m not ashamed.

There’s something strangely comforting about spending a Sunday decimating strangers from Finland while wearing a bathrobe and eating dry cereal. The chat is mostly emojis, the pace is just fast enough to keep you stimulated, and the moment you pull off a perfect combo — it’s as euphoric as solving a Rubik’s Cube during a breakup.

I’ve had losses that haunted me for days. I’ve had wins that made me believe I could run for office.

It’s everything I want in a game: strategic, chaotic, rewarding, and just the right amount of cult-y.

The Emotional Arc of Playing Gods Unchained

Let me break it down.

Phase	Emotion	Real Life Comparison
Matchmaking	Optimism	Like swiping on a dating app
Early Game	Confident aggression	Like arguing with someone dumber than you
Mid Game	Panic and recalculation	Like realizing the dumb person had a point
Late Game	Regret or glory	Like checking your crypto wallet at 2 AM

And you keep going. Because nothing makes you feel more alive than repeatedly dying in the same way you promised you wouldn’t.

So… Should You Play?

Yes — but only if you:

• Enjoy strategy games that reward both thinking and blind rage.

• Want to actually own your in-game assets.

• Think emotionally bonding with a card deck is totally fine.

• Are prepared to explain to your partner why you screamed “BURN IN HELL, DEMON!” from the couch at 11:48 p.m.

Final Thought: Why I’m Still Playing Gods Unchained the Card Game

Because it’s good. Because it’s weird. Because it makes me feel smarter than I am — until I lose, and then I blame lag.

Gods Unchained is the most honest game I’ve played in years. You win because you earned it. You lose because you didn’t. Or because the matchmaking system hates you — which I’m convinced it does.

Either way, I’ll be back online tonight. God of War, level 277, ready to attack with a flaming ax and questionable emotional stability. I love Gods Unchained the Card Game.

Level 277. I shit you not.

Want More Chaos?

If you liked this descent into card-based madness, check out a few of my other spirals:

• I Accidentally Joined a Gay Pride Parade and Now I’m Wondering If Straight Pride Is a Cry for Help

• Early Morning Kitchen Jobs: The 4 A.M. Wafle House Delusion That Haunts Me

• The Dumbest Life-Changing Moment in History (Mine)

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