Archive for the ‘Creativity’ Category
Not All Draws are Boring…In Retrospect
Among elite chess players, most games end in draws. Whether these outcomes are the result of a tense struggle that ends in a dynamic equilibrium neither player dares disturb or a “grandmaster draw” where the competitors tacitly agree to take a day off, the outcome is neither a win nor a loss.
When a player is awarded one point for a win and zero points for a loss, “splitting the point” (earning half a point each) for a draw can seem like an unsatisfying result. Of the major American sport leagues, only Major League Soccer and the National Football League allow ties—the NFL doing so only after a full period of overtime. Some chess tournaments encourage risk by awarding three points for a win, one point for a draw, and zero points for a loss, but they are the exception.
The advent of computer analysis that goes well beyond human capability adds to chess’s drawish nature. As John Gapper notes in his November 25, 2021, column in the Financial Times, “[p]layers always arrived for tournaments well prepared, but they now use software as well as human analysis to predict lines long past the opening.” While it’s true that I, a moderately-skilled amateur player, can see better moves using an app on my phone than the world champion sees over the board, there is still significant room for invention.
The first two games of the current World Championship match ended in draws, but neither was boring. What’s more, in Game 2 world champion Magnus Carlsen deviated on move 8, which is quite early in the game. While the move he played was known, it is uncommon and offered chances for an advantage. Rather than searching for an innovation on move 25, well within the preparation in deeply analyzed openings, Carlsen and his team found an opportunity to sidestep popular lines in pursuit of a meaningful imbalance.
After mutual inaccuracies—suboptimal moves identified by the computer but invisible to the likes of me—the game ended in a draw that was anything but peaceful. The struggle was compelling and the potential for any of the three possible results for each player added excitement.
Is chess the sort of game that can be presented successfully to broad audiences? Perhaps not. I agree with Gapper’s additional point that chess lacks the broader visual appeal of soccer, video games, or even poker now that players are required to expose their hole cards to cameras for the benefit of viewers at home. (Years ago, before hole-card cameras were implemented, a friend said he would rather watch a tournament on the Paint Drying Channel than a televised poker game.) The drama of the Cold War-era Fischer-Spassky battles or the bitter conflict between old-guard Soviet stalwart Anatoly Karpov and upstart Garry Kasparov in the 1980s are missing, but the intellectual and agonizingly human struggle to find the best moves over the board remains.
As a chess player I understand that a draw is not always a bad result, just as splitting a pot is better than losing at poker. Even if chess isn’t destined to be a popular sport for real-time viewing, I hope players and commentators find ways to bring the joy and excitement of the game to the public after the fact. They’ve made good progress so far and I have high hopes for what’s next.
Resilience is not a consolation prize
I don’t get angry at online writers, or headline writers, that often, but a tweet from Wired regarding the go match between AlphaGo, the computing engine built by the DeepMind section of the company formerly known as Google, and world champion Lee Sedol, pushed my buttons.
Lee lost the first three games of the match, but all five games were to be played regardless of the outcome. The Wired tweet that ticked me off referred to Lee’s win in Game 4 against AlphaGo as a “consolation win”. Cade Metz, the author of the piece referenced by the tweet, said that Lee “clawed back a degree of pride for himself and the millions of people who watched the match online.”
No, he didn’t. Not because Lee couldn’t regain his pride after having no hope of winning the five-game series, but because he never lost it. Lee admitted to playing a loose opening in Game 1, but based on the AlphaGo games he’d seen from previous matches, he didn’t think the program was strong enough to take advantage of the situation. It was. At no time, the world champion said, did he think he was ahead. In Games 2 and 3 he played better moves, but AlphaGo still forced resignation. Part of the problem was that AlphaGo didn’t use as much of its allotted two hours for early moves as Lee did, so the computer was way ahead on the clock for most of the game. Early moves create the framework for the rest of the game, so players must weigh them carefully.
Lee was clearly frustrated by his inability to win any games in the first part of the match, but he came into Game 4 ready for the struggle and played a surprising, powerful move in the middle of the board after not getting much out of the opening. Expert commentator Michael Redmond, a 9-dan professional player (the highest rank awarded), said he didn’t see Lee’s wedge move coming, but as the game progressed he realized its power. Despite running very low on time, Lee was able to maintain his momentum and take advantage of aimless play by AlphaGo to secure the win.
The Wired story should have centered on the theme of a human player beating a go engine for what might be the last time. The best computer chess programs are favored to beat even world champion Magnus Carlsen in 99.9% of their games. AlphaGo’s improvement over the past five months, when it played well enough to win 5-0 against a professional rated in the top 650 players in the world but made clear errors, is astonishing. AlphaGo trains its neural nets by playing against itself at high speed, earning decades of play experience in months. I don’t doubt it will be unbeatable by humans in a very short time.
Lee stepped up under extremely difficult and very public circumstances to secure a brilliant win. The advances in machine learning behind AlphaGo’s abilities in a game thought to be too complex for computers to manage are notable, but Lee Sedol’s play and fighting spirit are the real story.
To Be a Beginner Again
When I think of what it means to “be a beginner” at something, I think of learning a new language or trying a new sport. I didn’t expect to rediscover the joys and struggles of being a beginner as a writer.
I had just finished Microsoft Excel 2016 Step by Step for Microsoft Press, my sixth Excel Step by Step book, when the publisher approached me to take on Microsoft OneNote Step by Step. I looked at my schedule, swallowed hard, and agreed to do it. I’d worked a bit with OneNote as part of my Office Online Essential Training course for lynda.com, so, while I wasn’t an expert, I wasn’t coming in completely cold. Besides, I’m a writer and course developer—my job is to tease out a program’s intricacies and make them clear to the reader or viewer. How hard could it be?
I’ll pause until you stop laughing.
You can write a book about anything if you do enough research, develop a few ideas of your own, and quote liberally from other sources. I just read a business book, Everything Connects, that did exactly that. The main author probably wrote a great proposal based on his experiences as a serial entrepreneur and meditation practitioner, took his advance, and wrote down everything he could about those subjects. My guess is that he produced about 150 pages for a planned 250-page book, so the publisher brought in (or had already hired) a professional writer as co-author.
I also turned to the supporting literature on OneNote for guidance, but there’s not a lot out there compared to the vast, rich resources on Excel. That said, I wrote what I could and discovered a lot as I went along, but I didn’t have an experienced user’s feel for the program. I’m fortunate Microsoft convinced Ed Price, formerly a member of the OneNote product team, to be the book’s technical editor. Ed knows the software in depth, both as a user and someone familiar with the broader customer base’s needs and desires. He added a lot of material I’d considered not important enough to include, changed the emphasis of certain sections of the book to improve its usefulness, and became, in all but name, a full co-author.
I’m grateful for the substantial help Ed provided and hope to make him a full co-author, with cover credit, when it comes time to refresh the book. As a writer it was good, though incredibly frustrating, to write about a program I hadn’t worked with extensively. I had 20 years of skill and discipline to power through a first draft we could use as a basis for critique, but I had several flashbacks to when I was just starting out and lacked the tools I have now.
I survived (with the help of Ed and others), the book will provide good value to OneNote users, and I was reminded how difficult a thing it is to produce a manuscript from whole cloth. I’m glad I agreed to help out, but I’m sure glad we’re done.
Reasons for Playing Chess
Chess is a rewarding but maddening game. You can build up an overwhelming position for the first 40 moves and then make a simple tactical error that lets your opponent back into the game or, in extreme and highly embarrassing cases, even win on the next move.
Interviewer: So, tell me…does throwing away a win hurt?
Curt: Yes. Yes it does.
You see golfers going crazy over their rounds, alternating between self-loathing over the short putts they missed and self-praise for the 150-yard shot that ended up a foot from the hole. I played golf occasionally for a few years and can testify to that effect. Some of my friends play 18 holes just so they can feel the satisfaction of hitting one good shot.
Some days they have to play 36 holes.
A golfer having a bad day still gets in some physical exercise. What about chess players? As with many endeavors, it depends on why you’re playing in the first place. You always get to exercise your brain and look over the consequences of your moves, which keeps you sharp and might fight off the effects of aging, but what else?
If you’re playing with someone who’s about your own strength, you get the benefit of an equal competition and, very likely, enough wins to keep things interesting. Playing someone stronger than you helps you learn and winning every so often helps keep you going. Playing a weaker player lets you win more often and teach the game, even if only indirectly.
What’s often overlooked is that chess can be a social game. If you play blitz chess, where players have to make all of their moves within three or five minutes, you can get in a lot of games and try many different types of positions. Playing a longer game lets you think more deeply, and playing without a clock lets you approach the game more casually.
You can also take time to analyze your game with your opponent. Serious players often try to identify the move where the winner got an advantage and what the loser missed. When done with a spirit of exploration and sharing, post-game analysis can be fun and helpful.
Chess as metaphor
Games have long played a part in literature, representing a competition between humans or supernatural beings. Chess features prominently in many stories. The game’s intellectual nature lends itself to such depictions, with the idea being that if you can beat someone else at chess, you are the better man.
Other games, both real and invented, serve similar roles. For me, the best example is the game Azad from Iain M. Banks’ book The Player of Games. The game of Azad is a vast undertaking, with high-level matches often taking a month to play. There are several boards, a combination of team and individual play, and so many pieces as to nearly defy description.
In the story, the game was developed as a metaphor for the structure and values of the Empire of Azad. It was part pastime and part civil service exam. The Azadian home world held a tournament every so often, with the winner crowned emperor. The better you did in the tournament, the higher your position in the government.
The premise of the story is that another civilization, the Culture, sends its best game player to compete in the tournament. Banks was known for a political bent to his stories; The Player of Games is no exception. On its surface a simple diplomatic exchange, our player’s participation and continued success brings the conflict between the two civilizations and their values into sharper relief.
It’s telling that the Culture’s hero only starts to play at a high level when he takes on aspects of the Empire’s philosophy in his own play. Banks manages that conflict magnificently.
Chess is an abstract game with arbitrary but well-balanced rules that allow for a wide range of successful strategies and tactics. Though it doesn’t approach the (admittedly fictional) resolution of a game like Azad, it has long played a role as a metaphor for accomplishment and brilliance. As such, it provides a terrific instructional base.
Chess as a game (among many)
Chess is often called “the queen of games”, at least in Western culture. The game’s austere appearance, when combined with its tactical and strategic depth, provides an air of challenge and mystery.
In many ways, chess is the prototypical Western game. Strategies and tactics are direct, with little progress to be made unless you directly confront your opponent. Chess is also a perfect information game, meaning there is no element of chance. You might not know your opponent’s next move, but there’s nothing hiding it from you. If you didn’t see what was coming, you can only blame yourself.
Although chess has increased in popularity in Asia, the traditional strategy game of Japan, China, and South Korea is go. Unlike chess, where the goal is to create a position where your opponent’s king is under attack and cannot move to a safe square, go players place their stones in an attempt to surround territory on the board. Chess boards are 8 x 8, with 64 squares, and the pieces stand on the squares. In go, the board has 19 x 19 lines, with 361 intersections, and players may place a stone on any unoccupied intersection (with a few exceptions).
The complexity of go far outstrips that of chess, at least in terms of the computation required to analyze and evaluate a position. Computers have conquered humans at chess…their calculating speed and positional evaluation let them beat even the strongest carbon-based players regularly. The most advanced go programs can only beat top professionals if they are given a substantial head start. That said, the gap is closing.
I said that chess is the prototypical Western game, but it’s mostly thought of as a European (and even more specifically, Russian) game. In America, the game of choice is poker. Poker is a gambling game, with a significant element of chance involved. You can do everything right but still lose if your opponent decides to fight the odds and draws the cards they need. Ironically, the better you play, the more of these “bad beat” stories you’ll have to tell. If you’re always in the lead, the luck of the draw means you will get chased down on occasion.
I hope I don’t sound bitter. But I am.
Do the Russians play chess, the Chinese play go, and the Americans play poker? If you look at our cultures and practices, you’ll see there’s a fair amount of truth to that statement. How well that metaphor translates to actionable intelligence is debatable, but it’s an interesting way to start a conversation.
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