Most people open a Pokémon booster pack looking for one thing:
the “hit”.
An EX card.
A Pokémon holo.
Perhaps a full art, secret rare, or anything else shiny enough to justify the price of the pack.
The one thing that gives them a dopamine rush.
Everything else? Often treated as filler, usually glanced over very briefly before being discarded.
I noticed this again recently after opening a Japanese and a Korean pack back-to-back and laying out all the cards on my desk.
Fifteen cards in total.
If you ask most people what they pulled, they might mention one or two of them. Or maybe, depending on circumstances, they might even shake their head in disgust or disappointment.
Some might only remember the EX card. Others might not even count the commons at all.
But looking at that spread, I realized I was seeing something different.
I wasn’t just seeing cards.
I was seeing fifteen individual pieces of Pokémon artwork.
Fifteen different compositions, styles, and interpretations of the Pokémon world.
And behind each one of those cards — an artist. A human being who put in their time and effort to bring something to the world for people to enjoy.
Fifteen artists contributing to 2 booster packs, opened and gone through in a fraction of a lifespan.
It’s an easy detail to overlook.
When you’re focused on rarity, value, or resale potential, it makes sense to filter things down. Not all cards carry the same monetary weight. Not all of them are equally “desirable” in the traditional sense.
But from a creative perspective, every card matters. Maybe not fundamentally, but it’s significance cannot be undersold either.
A common card still had to be designed, illustrated, approved, and printed.
It still represents someone’s work, someone’s pride and joy. That is not something to be glossed over or thrown to the side.
There’s another small detail I noticed, too.
In neither of these Pokémon packs, there was a single energy card.
It’s something I hadn’t actively thought about before, but it stood out once I did. Different regions and sets structure their packs differently, and those choices subtly change the experience of opening them.
Even the absence of something becomes part of the design. In this case, a change of pace many card opening enthusiasts might want to see become a global standard.
None of this replaces the excitement of pulling a rare card.
That moment — when you see something unexpected, something valuable — will always be part of the appeal. And that is perfectly valid and OK.
But it’s not the only way to look at a pack.
Sometimes, it’s worth slowing down.
Looking at all the cards, not just the rare ones.
Noticing the artwork.
Thinking about the people behind it.
Because in the end, a booster pack isn’t just a chance at a “hit”.
It’s a small collection of creative work, assembled into a single experience.
And depending on how you look at it, there’s more there than most people realize.
It’s a small shift in perspective, but it changes the way I open every pack.
