It's not a game, it's life

Aug 13

chess, games, go, memory 1 Comment

Is it a game of chance or skill? That question runs through my mind as I check my hole cards – pocket aces. Play aggressive to scare off those who might hit a lucky card on the river, or trap my opponents and bilk them for as many chips as possible? I take into consideration the players’ stacks around me, their tendency to bluff, the tells that scream I’m not interested in this hand. All signals that contribute to my final calculation… All in.

The poker analogy has been over-used in the game of international politics. Stanley Kubrick insisted that the War Room table in Doctor Strangelove be covered with the green felt used in casinos: he wanted the actors to convey the sense that the fate of the world was nothing more than a game of cards. It seems that Tal Pinchevsky is tired of the connections drawn between poker and politics, and argues that chess should be the metaphor of choice.

On the surface, the argument makes sense. As a leader with an array of pieces at your disposal, there are gambits you can play to control areas of the board, while sacrificing a bishop here so that you can take a queen there. You need to think 5 or 6 moves in advance to have any sort of success. The strategies at play on the 64 squares can easily be transferred to any sphere in life, whether its global diplomacy, business or sports.

Still, the chess analogy feels limiting. As the game progresses, the more likely a specific outcome arises. Each player starts with 16 pieces of varying strength, and through a process of attrition, reduces their ability their respond to moves. Fewer pieces = fewer moves. Obviously good players avoid the scorched earth scenario, but regardless, you move and you respond. End game quickly reveals itself.

Perhaps its my Asian heritage, but I think go works better. You start with a larger playing surface: a clean 19 x 19 grid. Players take turns placing their stones on the 361 intersections. There are a few simple rules, with the basic goal to establish greater territory. The complexity of each game unfolds with maddening precision – each move changes the terrain and increases the number of possible responses. Add the fact that a professional go game can span over several days, it is an excruciatingly difficult game to master.

I’d argue that go represents the game of life more than chess. We start with a clean slate, each action we take representing a stone on the board. The specific placement is based on the thousands of considerations that came before it, and the possible permutations that follow. Our focus may shift from hobby to education to work to leisure, but it’s the sum total of all our experiences that’s more important. Likewise, go players take an extremely long-term view – my play in this area of the board will be a determining factor in the final configuration.

Maybe I’m thinking too hard about the analogies that all manner of games bring to the table. Of course, this is the domain of game theorists, so there must be some credence to all of the thought that they’ve created.

At the end of the day though, isn’t the point of life to have a little bit of fun?