The Perfect Game

Chess is the only game, perhaps the only thing, that has held my interest throughout my entire life. But what's so attractive about it? What's the secret ingredient that has captivated thinkers for centuries?

And why can't I escape it?

Family game night has always frustrated me. We play the classics: your Scrabbles, your Monopolies. But I've never been a great fan of games that hinge on luck. I just can't see the enjoyment in having an outcome dictated by a roll of the dice. That's not fair, I protest, if I had (pulled, rolled, picked up) those (tiles, numbers, cards), I'd be winning! Of course, family game night isn't really about winning, and this might suggest an unhealthy fascination with victory; let's leave that can of worms unopened for now. 

My point is that if the purpose of games is a test of skill, those based on luck fail miserably. If the point of games is to derive simple pleasure from an evening playing a game of chance with those you love, well, that just doesn't sit right with me. 

Chess is considered a "perfect information" game, a phrase that refers to sequential games in which both players always have full knowledge of everything that has previously occurred. Consider the implications of the perfect information game: with uncertainty removed, players are forced to use the same information to create advantages. The only variables in any given game are creativity, ingenuity, and previous studying. 

AMERICAN CHESS DAY - September 1, 2020 | National Today
Variations of chess date back to the 6th century

In chess, your success is entirely up to you. There's no luck to protect you against a better player, no excuse to be made when you fail. It's pure skill. 

Another benefit of chess's nature is that improvement is obvious and demonstrable through the elegant rating system. Explained simply, beat a player to gain rating points, lose to see your rating fall. This system is alluring to the improvement-obsessed because of its unfeeling logic. 

Sure, I might wish that I had gained more points or lost fewer after a match, but I always understand my rating. And watching it increase is life-affirming. You're doing things right, it says, don't worry. 

I love chess, and I bet I always will. I'm not particularly good at it (nor bad, but only slightly above average for competitive chess players), but this just doesn't matter. The satisfaction in promoting a pawn or launching a successful attack is unmatched. 

I live for this beautiful game. 

Thanks for reading
-TWTD



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