From Dojo to Deck Building: Teaching martial philosophy through the Futura trading card system

“The Puritan card represents the path of self-purification, much like O-Sensei taught in Aikido,” William explained to a newer student during a recent training session. “But in Futura, it’s channelled through the story of the Aori and the Selbeth prophecy.” The student’s eyes lit up with recognition – not of the Aikido reference, but of the science fiction narrative that had inadvertently led him to explore classical martial philosophy.

As both a traditional martial arts instructor and head of a lightsaber combat school, I’ve witnessed a fascinating divide. My Aikido and Kenjutsu students often train for self-defence or fitness, viewing martial arts as a method of increasing their physical skill but with little interest in the deep history, culture and martial philosophy that underpins the techniques. Meanwhile, my lightsaber students arrive steeped in Star Wars lore, knowing Shii Cho and Makashi forms or various sabers, characters, worlds and history but have no idea about the real martial arts stories, techniques and traditions they are derived from or attempt to emulate.

In my view, the sportification of lightsaber combat has only served to widen this gap. Tournaments standardise rules, competitive rankings replace philosophical growth, and the rich storytelling tradition of martial arts fades into mere point-scoring statistics. Even martial arts styles like BJJ and Judo have moved more towards a science, with young students overlooking the every-day accounts of legends such as Carlos Gracie, Mitsuyo Maeda, Jigoro Kano or Masahilo Kimura. But the reality is, traditional martial arts thrive on stories – not just for their technical lessons, but as living connections to the generations that came before us. My old instructor used to tell me about Tony Smith Sensei’s infamous encounter at a local pub in the 60s. A particularly aggressive patron, unaware of who he was dealing with, grabbed Smith’s shirt and threatened to punch him. The story goes that Smith sensei applied a sankyo technique, causing a spiral fracture before proceeding to clear the entire twenty-foot bar, glasses and all, using his antagonist as an impromptu cleaning implement. Such tales don’t just convey technique or even wisdom – they connect us to the raw, often spectacular reality of martial arts history and the characters who shaped it. For me, hearing these kinds of anecdotes filled me with the same awe and wonder about Kyushin-Ryu Aikido as when I was 5 and watching the trash compactor scene in A New Hope…. And capturing that awe has been my primary focus for creating the Futura Card system and the Extended Universe of Hyperion.

Much of the inspiration for using trading cards to achieve the Futura system came from both my own childhood love of 90s Marvel and Topps basketball cards as well as being completely blown away with how Gen Z have taken to Magic the Gathering. In the early 1990s, Magic: The Gathering revolutionised competitive gaming by combining strategic depth with rich storytelling and mythology. It showed how a card game could create deep engagement through both mechanics and narrative. At the same time, sitting down at a table and playing card games beyond a casual evening has never appealed to me. Still, the parallel between MtG’s mythology and that of traditional martial arts struck me as something important. The ways in which players strategise their decks, consider their opponent’s motivations and take in the art and significance of the cards doesn’t seem too far removed from Sun Tzu’s Art of War. Could a TCG framework be applied to a physical sport? At the very least, maybe a trading card game could help preserve these anecdotes, characters, legends, philosophies and martial principles? Perhaps.

The core mechanics of Futura emerged from this vision. In the armoured combat version of Futura, teams share a single deck of 60 cards, with each player drawing five cards and carefully allocating resources within an 800-point team limit. The system’s depth comes from its five card types, each serving a distinct role in both gameplay and philosophical teaching. Armour cards, divided into Heavy, Recon, and Adept categories, provide armour points and contextualise the very real (and often boring) armour that players need to compete. Saber cards provide damage points which chip away at their opponent’s armour and give players the opportunity to imagine wielding other weapon types. Item cards encourage creative combination of tools, weapons and techniques. Here, more experienced students tend to take on leadership roles, identifying their team mates’ relative skills and assigning more powerful cards to compensate for any skill gaps for offense or defense with Armour, Saber and Item cards.

But it’s the Sigil and Ability cards that carry the deepest martial arts teachings. Each Sigil represents a fundamental philosophical approach to the Martial Arts: the Emperor sigil reflects psychological domination in either the battlefield or the arena, as well as concepts such as authority and power from the individual to the political. The Paladin sigil represents honour and the warrior’s code, whether that’s bushido or Chivalry. It’s Nietzsche’s Why to endure any How, which serve us to endure hardships faced in both martial training and life in general. The Puritan’s quest for self-perfection, is echoed in the need for ritual purification of the self, advocated for by Ueshiba but it also represents the purity spiralling we can often fall into when we seek absolute perfection of form, often quarrelling with others over the minutiae of kata. The long history of developing weapons of war, technique and strategy or developing a keen sense of cunning and innovative spirit are reflected in the Strategist card. Lastly, the Primal sigil reflects the animalistic nature of physical violence and aggression which cannot be divorced from the human condition. These aren’t just game mechanics – they’re entry points into ancient martial wisdom, reframed for a new generation.

As I mentioned previously, I loved the art and short stories conveyed through the old classic 90s Marvel cards, and its in this spirit that I envisioned each of the Ability cards. Here, powerful martial principles could be distilled into simple science fiction scenarios. From Seneca’s concept of ‘Might Makes Right’, to Sun Tzu’s teachings about knowing the enemy. Ability cards are also about expressing valorous and epic moments in battle. Here, the “Temple Crawler” ability provides a fighter the opportunity to increase their damage points at the risk of taking on damage if the attack is unsuccessful. At the same time, the story behind the Temple Crawler card reflects the chances we need to take in the arena to pull off an effective attack, counter attack or feint. The card simply exaggerates this principle and brings it to the fore.

The competition structure of Futura also deliberately breaks from the individual focus of most modern martial arts competitions. While lightsaber combat typically follows the solo competitor model, our team-based formats create opportunities for the kind of collective experiences found in team fencing or buhurt. Splintercell matches, with their 3v3 structure, force students to think beyond their individual performance. Teams must carefully manage their shared deck of cards, coordinate their strategies, and support each other through successive matches. This format has proven particularly valuable for integrating newer students, who benefit from both the tactical guidance and emotional support of their more experienced teammates.

The Crucible format pushes these dynamics even further. Last week’s match perfectly demonstrated this fusion of philosophy and play. Max, one of our younger students, took on the heavily-armoured defender role – a rare break from our usual dynamic where my daughter Beatrix dominates the arena. Henry and Chester huddled with Beatrix, strategising their rotation as the attacking team. “Remember,” Beatrix coached her teammates, “we need to coordinate our Sigils. Max is using an Emperor card on his armour, so we want to use any Puritan cards to give us an edge.” The match unfolded like a tactical puzzle, three 11-year-olds working together to systematically challenge their friend’s defences. What struck me wasn’t just their grasp of the game mechanics, but how naturally they discussed concepts like tactical withdrawal, resource management, and the interplay of different combat philosophies – concepts that might seem dry in traditional teaching but came alive through play.

In the extended universe of Hyperion, even old stories find new life. Students playing the full TCG version of the game might recognise elements of Smith’s encounter in the character Garris Greyson, whose backstory involves a skirmish in a seedy Mori club, where he ends up destroying a clan member’s arm and forcing them across the bar before being detained. The setting changes, but the anecdotes, principles and sense of wonder remain intact.

Taking inspiration from Magic: The Gathering’s comprehensive design philosophy, we’ve also developed Futura into a standalone trading card game for times when physical training isn’t possible. Integration of the digital versions of the cards with Saber Academy platform also lets students unlock digital rewards and content whenever they progress through belt levels or achieve training milestones. The Kyu system of coloured belts seen in almost any dojo was designed for this reason; to provide a sense of progress to Westerners who are often motivated through immediate feedback and peer recognition. In this light, Futura’s digital rewards aren’t just gamification for its own sake, but rather a natural evolution of martial arts’ long history of adapting to different cultural paradigms. For a generation that has grown up with achievement systems and digital progression as their primary framework for measuring growth, these elements serve as familiar bridges to the deeper levels of physical training.

Perhaps what’s most intriguing about this intersection of traditional martial arts and modern gaming culture is how it challenges our assumptions about both. We often think of martial arts as requiring a choice between preservation and evolution – either we maintain traditions exactly as they were passed down, or we risk losing something essential in the pursuit of innovation. But systems like Futura might suggest a different possibility: that the core wisdom of martial arts might actually be better preserved through transformation than through rigid adherence to form. Consider how the trading card format mirrors the way martial knowledge was traditionally preserved and transmitted. Just as classic Kung Fu masters would pass down not just techniques but stories, principles, and philosophical insights using myth and metaphor, each card in Futura carries multiple layers of meaning – tactical, narrative, and philosophical. The system doesn’t simply transpose martial arts concepts into game mechanics; it creates a new language for exploring these ideas, one that resonates deeply with a generation raised on digital narratives and gamified learning.

But this raises provocative questions about the future of martial arts education. If we can successfully translate martial wisdom into new formats, what other innovations might be possible? Could virtual reality dojos one day offer experiences that capture not just the physical techniques but the spiritual and philosophical dimensions of training? How might artificial intelligence transform the way we understand and teach martial arts principles – or bond with an instructor? But the question I am perhaps most concerned with these days is, how do we ensure that in embracing these new tools, we don’t lose sight of the fundamental human connection that has always been at the heart of martial arts transmission?