Scott Tepper: AI…AI…Oh!

At the end of last year I got a new laptop.  Ostensibly it was to help me submit my columns earlier than midnight the day before they were due by allowing me to get some writing done on my train ride home from work every day.  To some degree, it has helped.  Now I’m often able to finish my columns by 10:00p the night before they’re due.  Back in February, during one of my commutes, as I tried to find some sort of diversion when I didn’t (gasp!) feel like writing, I stumbled across the chess game that had been factory installed on my laptop

As I had been searching for Minesweeper or Othello on my computer, I was slightly disappointed to only find a chess program.  It had been years, (and when I say years, I mean back when my grandmother bought one of the first personal computers, and it was a Tandy) since I had played chess.  In my mind, I thought I had been a decent chess player, but that doesn’t seem to be based on anything other than the recollection that my father was a pretty good chess player.  Mind you, he didn’t play all that much with me, I realize now, because I wasn’t much of a challenge.

But when you’re trying to find a way to procrastinate writing a column, beggers can’t be choosers.  So I fired up a game of Chess against the computer.  On maybe my 5th turn, I took the computer’s pawn, and in retribution, it took one of my knights.  After what felt like only 15 moves or so, the computer checkmated me. Ok.  Not off to a good start.

But it’s just a computer.  It can’t think for itself.  I should be able to beat it, right?

Wrong.

If losing at Chess is an artform, then I became a master artisan.  Sometimes I could make the game long and drawn out, losing slowly and painfully.  Sometimes it was almost as if I was committing speed Chessicular Hari-Kiri.

Over time, I started getting a better feel for the board.  I could sense the ebb and flow of control, and learned when I should hit the “new game” button because there was no point continuing the current game.  After about my 70th loss, I discovered that the program had a “hint” button.  With its use, I could get what the computer suggested was my best move given my current position. 

Armed with the computer’s helpful hints, I was able to start recognizing the little traps it would lay for me.  I also learned that any similar attempts on my part to ensnare the computer would fail.  It simply wasn’t stupid enough to fall for the same traps that entangle me.  I began to play better, and the games would last longer.  But still, I couldn’t manage a win.

Out of frustration, I decided to play an entire game solely by using the computer’s hints.  I figured that if I went first, and moved exactly as the computer suggested, I would win, right? 

Wrong again.

Even using every suggestion the computer made for me, I couldn’t pull off a win. How depressing is that?

But I didn’t give up.  Or rather, I continued to procrastinate weekly on my way home from work.  Finally, in July, I won my first game against the computer.  Sure, I asked for and accepted some hints along the way, but you have to acknowledge that I must have provided some sort of mental fiber.  The win, though, was somewhat anticlimactic.  After all those losses, when I won I was expecting a breakaway scene of the chess program throwing a tantrum, or maybe fireworks.  But I only got the 2 word mess, “You win!”

I was pleased, but it was too soon to get cocky.  It took another 30 or so games for me to squeek out another win, but this time I was able to do it with flair.  Somehow, near the end of the game, I managed to have my king, queen and 3 pawns left, while the AI opponent only had his king left.  I was able to convert all my pawns into queens.  It gave me a perverse sort of pleasure to toy with the computer as I slowly manipulated it’s king into the corner then swooped in for the checkmate.  The only thing that would have made it more satisfying would have been the knowledge that my computer had emotions, so it could feel the defeat.

When I play games with my friends, I’m usually not driven to inflict embarrassing defeats on them, partly because I don’t have that killer instinct, and partly because I don’t win all that often.  So the delight I felt at beating…no, creaming…the computer was foreign and a little unsettling for me.  Was this how Tom felt when he finally beat me at Hera & Zeus after all those losses he endured?

I know there are people who enjoy, or even revel in fierce game competition.  I’ve seen it.  It’s got to be a driving force in most people, otherwise events like the Olympics wouldn’t be the huge, world-wide draw that it is.

So should it be more, or less satisfying when we pit ourselves against a computer and muster a win?  Now granted, a chess program is simply a set of rules and responses programmed by one or more people, but it lacks the susceptibility that humans do to have its performance affected by emotional stimuli.  I’ve noticed while playing the computer that we’ll frequently run into a situation where the computer will just do a cautious move and then take it back and repeat.  The chain is only broken when I get tired of the standoff and risk trying something daring.  Rare is the person that isn’t affected in some way by a psychological assault. 

I have played many computer games (the temptresses Wii & Xbox 360 make me feel guilty for considering leaving my beloved PS2), and feel that most of these games are created so that we’ll figure out how to beat them.  If the games are too difficult to solve, then the publishers will have a decreased chance of selling sequels to their customers.

The chess program, on the other hand, seems to be a different animal.  I really feel, when playing chess against the computer, that I am honing my chess skills.  It’s like I’m getting a logical workout that will improve my gameplay over time.

Don’t worry, though.  It’s not like I’m developing a swagger as a result of my chess triumphs.  Just this past week I learned that I have been playing on the “normal” level. For me to feel any sort of smugness, I’m going to have to defeat the computer on the “crazyhouse” and “suicide” levels. 

Something tells me that my chess game isn’t the only thing that’s going to be refined.  It looks like my procrastination skills are improving as well.

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