I was one of the greats of all time. An international chess champion, famed for my renowned ability to outclass any chess players. I was superb. I gained fame, money, and even all the guys and gals to boot. Celebrities flocked me, and they would tell me that I must be such an intelligent guy- with my master's degree.
Such a degree I earned by reading off the minds of everyone else- the few brainy people that my university had. High school was no different, as was chess.
Think about it. Many people absolutely love chess in this day and age. Personally, I think it's incredibly stupid. Everyone who does thinks themselves to be a master strategist and manipulator, when all they do is make themselves look like pretentious edgelords, their insecurities on intelligence too big to smother.
You see when I play chess, I pretend to marvel about the wonders of the game and I praise it highly. A bit rich coming from me, isn't it? I don't care if I come off as a hypocrite though; my chess games are just chess games within chess games, making moves to fool everyone into believing that I'm good at chess. Me, out of all people. Anyone can play chess.
Even a 100 rated bot.
It's impossible to read a bot's mind. Believe me, I've tried. Algorithms don't have that biological matter or motor or sensory nerves to process that chess information, so I can never tell what comes next. Bots are my greatest foe.
In my late forties, I was fooling about: drunk too, but not too intoxicated to spill my trade secret. Unfortunately, everyone else was drunk too. Celebrating my victory over the chess grand championships will do that to you. It will also spell disaster.
"Jim! Are you really that good at chess?"
Dave sneered at me, a contorted look of arrogance on his face. I took another swig of vodka.
"I'm not just good," I boasted to the crowds. "I'm the absolute best."
"Piss off! Could you even beat a 100 rated bot, while drunk?"
"Yeah." That was a lie, but winning against supposed geniuses will make you say incredibly strange things. "Challenge accepted."
Dave grinned, a smug look of challenge on his face, as he hastily clicked on his phone on something called Chess.com. Damn.
I didn't even know that was a thing. What kind of person would program and maintain that? It was chess.
No one around me had ever played chess so like me, they didn't know a lick of chess.
First move: I moved my pawn to E4. That was the standard move. That's what I figured from all my matches. Everyone wasn't even watching. Only Dave was, and even then, he was too busy chatting people up.
It was only when I moved one of my pawns, did he frown. "Why aren't you controlling the centre?" he asked, intrigued. "You're going to lose if you keep making moves like that."
And then I was down to a pawn and my own very king. If you're laughing at me right now, be warned that I was evenly matched. The fearsome bot had a lowly pawn and its king too. I couldn't tell if I was sweating from the night party, or the people around me belittling me with their scornful thoughts. It really did put me down. I was furious. But I couldn't show it, or I'd be outed as a fraud. Nor could I look like I was concentrating too hard.
David was an idiot, and I only spent time around him because he would give me the latest IPhone every now and then- weeks before official release. Was that why he knew about this strange thing, called Chess.com. It was an abomination. A beast from Hell. I didn't understand how being in the technology market automatically meant forcing me to fight an unreleased bot with a 100 rating. For crying out loud, he didn’t even work with these Chess.com programmers, did he? If I had battled the meddling Martin with his powerful 250 rating, I would have been crushed. Later I learned that canonically in this Chess.com universe, Dash the Reindeer is an "avid chess player and the Vice President of the North Pole Chess Club." He's a reindeer, not Magnus Carlsen.
Actually, maybe they were interchangeable.
But the 100 rated bot was dumber than the fictional reindeer- and to be perfectly honest- so was I. The match had a time limit that sickened me horrifically. I had one minute left. The bot had seven minutes left.
"Why won't this move," I muttered furiously. "Just move. Stupid AI!"
As it turned out, I was more audible than I realised- and not slurring too much. I was actually very articulate that night apparently. Not very bright though.
"Are you really trying to sacrifice your king?" someone shouted incredulously.
"It's all part of my master plan," I forced myself to smirk, but my features melted into a grimace. They could see it. I could feel it- my own wilting confidence. "It's what grandmasters use to beat others. That's why there's a Netflix series named after it: The King's Gambit."
"Wait, but you're not doing an opening…"
No, she was quite right. I was being what I have always been: a failure.
Deep breath. You can always say you had too much to drink.
. . .
Accidentally posted this from my alt first time around, my bad.
QueenOfMystic t1_j1rr3ov wrote
Reply to [WP] You’ve just won the chess grand championships, and as a joke, someone bets you can’t win against a 100 rated bot. You, as a mind reader, don’t know a lick of actual chess. by EvilNoobHacker
I was one of the greats of all time. An international chess champion, famed for my renowned ability to outclass any chess players. I was superb. I gained fame, money, and even all the guys and gals to boot. Celebrities flocked me, and they would tell me that I must be such an intelligent guy- with my master's degree.
Such a degree I earned by reading off the minds of everyone else- the few brainy people that my university had. High school was no different, as was chess.
Think about it. Many people absolutely love chess in this day and age. Personally, I think it's incredibly stupid. Everyone who does thinks themselves to be a master strategist and manipulator, when all they do is make themselves look like pretentious edgelords, their insecurities on intelligence too big to smother.
You see when I play chess, I pretend to marvel about the wonders of the game and I praise it highly. A bit rich coming from me, isn't it? I don't care if I come off as a hypocrite though; my chess games are just chess games within chess games, making moves to fool everyone into believing that I'm good at chess. Me, out of all people. Anyone can play chess.
Even a 100 rated bot.
It's impossible to read a bot's mind. Believe me, I've tried. Algorithms don't have that biological matter or motor or sensory nerves to process that chess information, so I can never tell what comes next. Bots are my greatest foe.
In my late forties, I was fooling about: drunk too, but not too intoxicated to spill my trade secret. Unfortunately, everyone else was drunk too. Celebrating my victory over the chess grand championships will do that to you. It will also spell disaster.
"Jim! Are you really that good at chess?"
Dave sneered at me, a contorted look of arrogance on his face. I took another swig of vodka.
"I'm not just good," I boasted to the crowds. "I'm the absolute best."
"Piss off! Could you even beat a 100 rated bot, while drunk?"
"Yeah." That was a lie, but winning against supposed geniuses will make you say incredibly strange things. "Challenge accepted."
Dave grinned, a smug look of challenge on his face, as he hastily clicked on his phone on something called Chess.com. Damn.
I didn't even know that was a thing. What kind of person would program and maintain that? It was chess.
No one around me had ever played chess so like me, they didn't know a lick of chess.
First move: I moved my pawn to E4. That was the standard move. That's what I figured from all my matches. Everyone wasn't even watching. Only Dave was, and even then, he was too busy chatting people up.
It was only when I moved one of my pawns, did he frown. "Why aren't you controlling the centre?" he asked, intrigued. "You're going to lose if you keep making moves like that."
And then I was down to a pawn and my own very king. If you're laughing at me right now, be warned that I was evenly matched. The fearsome bot had a lowly pawn and its king too. I couldn't tell if I was sweating from the night party, or the people around me belittling me with their scornful thoughts. It really did put me down. I was furious. But I couldn't show it, or I'd be outed as a fraud. Nor could I look like I was concentrating too hard.
David was an idiot, and I only spent time around him because he would give me the latest IPhone every now and then- weeks before official release. Was that why he knew about this strange thing, called Chess.com. It was an abomination. A beast from Hell. I didn't understand how being in the technology market automatically meant forcing me to fight an unreleased bot with a 100 rating. For crying out loud, he didn’t even work with these Chess.com programmers, did he? If I had battled the meddling Martin with his powerful 250 rating, I would have been crushed. Later I learned that canonically in this Chess.com universe, Dash the Reindeer is an "avid chess player and the Vice President of the North Pole Chess Club." He's a reindeer, not Magnus Carlsen.
Actually, maybe they were interchangeable.
But the 100 rated bot was dumber than the fictional reindeer- and to be perfectly honest- so was I. The match had a time limit that sickened me horrifically. I had one minute left. The bot had seven minutes left.
"Why won't this move," I muttered furiously. "Just move. Stupid AI!"
As it turned out, I was more audible than I realised- and not slurring too much. I was actually very articulate that night apparently. Not very bright though.
"Are you really trying to sacrifice your king?" someone shouted incredulously.
"It's all part of my master plan," I forced myself to smirk, but my features melted into a grimace. They could see it. I could feel it- my own wilting confidence. "It's what grandmasters use to beat others. That's why there's a Netflix series named after it: The King's Gambit."
"Wait, but you're not doing an opening…"
No, she was quite right. I was being what I have always been: a failure.
Deep breath. You can always say you had too much to drink.
. . .
Accidentally posted this from my alt first time around, my bad.