It all started when a few close friends of mine introduced me to a trading card game. I had never taken a card game seriously before, but this one hooked me. I was soon joining them at local card shops, participating in tournaments, and immersing myself in the game’s vibrant community. It was here that I noticed something fascinating: everyone had their own unique deck boxes for their trading cards.

My friends were meticulous about choosing their deck boxes. They prioritized sleek designs, high-quality materials, and practicality. In contrast, I was using a cheap, flimsy plastic case that barely held a single deck. One day, as I looked at my humble deck box and compared it to the elaborate ones around me, I thought, “Why am I using this? I can just print one!”

Fueled by inspiration, I set out to create a deck box that was unique yet simple and practical. I teamed up with a friend from my 3D printing business, and we decided to work on separate designs. His first prototype was incredible—clean, functional, and themed around the card game, which gave it a natural appeal. We added a hinge mechanism for the lid and magnets for a satisfying snap closure. After printing a prototype, we realized its potential wasn’t limited to trading cards; it could be a versatile storage box. So, we marketed it that way, and the online listing took off!

While his design was a hit, I wasn’t done yet. My inspiration came from a common pain point among players: existing deck boxes didn’t have a way to display the game’s “Leader Cards,” which were central to gameplay. Nor did they offer intuitive storage for the dice used during matches. That realization lit a fire in me. I wanted to create a design that solved these problems, but I kept overthinking it, searching for the “perfect” solution.

Then I remembered some advice from my friend, Brian: “There’s never a wrong way of doing something, but there’s always the longer or shorter way.” Those words snapped me out of analysis paralysis, and I got to work.

My first prototype, Proto 1, featured a two-part design. The main body stored the cards, with rails at the top to connect a sliding lid. The lid had slots for dice and magnets to hold everything in place. There was even a dedicated slot for a Leader Card, housed in a mini snap holder. The concept looked great, but the execution had issues.

Back to the drawing board. I reimagined the design with hinges and magnets for easy access. The dice holder moved to the bottom for better accessibility, with a threaded twist-off mechanism. Proto 2 was promising but not without flaws—the threading was tricky to align, and the circular shape wasted space inside the dice compartment.

The first print was a disaster. I had to use a mallet to connect the parts, and once they snapped together, they wouldn’t come apart. Adjusting the tolerances fixed the fit, but the rails were too weak and prone to breaking. On top of that, aligning the pieces required too much precision, making the box inconvenient to use.

For Proto 3, I scrapped the threads entirely and switched to magnets for the dice holder. The magnets provided a satisfying snap and kept the holder securely attached. After countless tweaks and a lot of trial and error, this final design was everything I had envisioned.

The deck box was easy to use, sturdy, and versatile. It showcased the Leader Card prominently, offered smooth access to dice, and was compact enough to carry anywhere. Seeing the finished product in my hands—and knowing how far it had come—was immensely rewarding. What started as a fun way to enhance my card game experience became a labor of love that solved real problems for players like me.

And now, every time I hear the satisfying click of those magnets, I’m reminded that there’s no “wrong way” to create—just a journey to find the right one.