Лекция по "Психологии"

Valle does not accept the notion that his opponent has a fixed, unchanging ability to see the moments. Valle does everything he can to fluster and confuse the opponent, reducing the opponent’s ability to see the moments. If something really weird happens in a game, the player can be caught in a moment of “what the hell was that?” and he’s momentarily blind to the passing moments. During this time, he might get hit by something he’d ordinarily see every time. Valle makes you lose focus and lose that sense of time slowing down.

It’s interesting to see how effective abandoning the textbook play really is for Valle. Not only is he able to sneak in things that should never work once the enemy is “blinded to the moments,” but in order to blind them in the first place, he has to do weird stuff that confuses and hypnotizes the enemy. If you analyzed his choices on paper, you would say “this move is unsafe, this other move does nothing, this sequence is totally inefficient compared to this other one that always does more damage.” His choices are often seemingly illogical and suboptimal, but he is the master and I am the student, not the other way around. When you are facing high level opponents who are more skilled at seeing the moments than anyone you have ever faced, it becomes that much more important to break out of the textbook mold and throw some figurative sand in their eyes. If you can blind them to the moments they would normally see, you then have access to the large repertoire of intermediate moves and tactics that you thought you couldn’t use on the experts.

Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.

—Sun Tzu, The Art of War

 

Play Styles

by Sirlin

Every gaming community is a weird mirror image of every other gaming community. The same personalities and the same play styles seem to repeat themselves, ad infinitum. While reading about the personalities throughout the history of chess, I was struck by how similar it all was to the personalities I grew up with playing Street Fighter. I will now relate to you some of those personalities, and I will also take a very controversial stand: I believe that there is one style of play that is superior to all others. The upper echelons of gamers always seem to show a similar mix of varied play styles, but the one true style has its way of coming out on top. This is certainly not the style I am known for, but I’m working on it. Perhaps you will recognize these players in your own gaming communities.

The Turtles

Chess Player: Tigran Petrosian, The Turtle (1929-84)

Petrosian was often criticized for his “boring” play. He paid careful attention to his pawn structure and rarely exposed himself with any kind of pawn weakness. He would stop his opponent’s attacks before they even started.

With the initiative Petrosian often played like a python, squeezing and squeezing the victim until he was almost happy to resign. When the chances were balanced, Petrosian was like a mongoose deflecting every thrust.

—Larry Parr, Outspoken Chess Player

My circles have a different animal-term for such a player: a turtle. The turtle takes no risks, and engages in no unnecessary action, much to the dismay of the spectators who always hate a turtle. Petrosian had these responses to his critics:

Some consider that when I play I am excessively cautious, but it seems to me that the question may be a different one. I try to avoid chance. Those who rely on chance should play cards or roulette. Chess is something quite different.

—Tigran Petrosian

 

They say my chess games should be more interesting. I could be more interesting—and also lose.

—Tigran Petrosian

His second response goes to the heart of the matter. Petrosian, and nearly all turtles, are simply trying their best to win given the particular situation and their own knowledge and skills. Petrosian did not win many tournaments, usually taking second or third place, but he was still regarded as nearly impossible to beat. Even turtles have their day, and in 1963 he won the World Championship from the top Soviet player Mikhail Botvinnik.

Street Fighter Player: Ricky Ortiz, The Turtle

Ortiz is an unusual little fellow: dainty and effeminate, he often changes his hairstyle and hair color, and he occasionally wears glitter on his face. Like Petrosian, he is widely criticized for his “boring” play, yet he is also considered almost impossible to beat.

Although I am known for my patience in tournament matches and my tendency to annoy the opponent, Ortiz has taken these methods to entirely new heights. He plays a nearly zero-risk game, and is content to eke out a small advantage in life totals over his opponent. He then shamelessly “runs away” for the rest of the match. (This prevents the opponent from being able to hit him, and when the timer runs out, the game awards victory to whoever has the most remaining life.) His infinite patience upsets even the most solemn opponents as they become more and more desperate to even things up while the time ticks down. Ortiz is a slippery fish that’s hard to catch.

His other skill is his ability to hover just at the “sweet spot” range: the range where his moves are most effective and his opponent’s moves are least effective. He baits his exasperated opponents into attacking at the wrong time, and uses his excellent reflexes to punish them for it. Gaining a lead allows him to run away even more, further angering his opponents and the crowd.

The Attackers

by Sirlin

 

Chess Player: Frank Marshall, The Attacker (1877-1944)

Marshall was from an earlier era in Chess history than Petrosian, the so-called romantic era. Marshall, like all romantics, lived for the brilliant combination and the fiery excitement of battle. He played for complicated positions with little regard for defense so he could pull out an amazing brilliancy for the win. His ability to trick his way out of troubles on board earned him the title “the Great Swindler.” He played at least as much for the crowd and for the thrill of the attack as for actually winning. Marshall held the US Championship from 1909 to 1935.

I have always liked a wide open game and tried to knock out my opponent with a checkmate as quickly as possible. I subscribe to the old belief that offense is the best form of defense.

—Frank Marshall

 

Some of Marshall’s most sparkling moves look at first like typographical errors.

—William Napier, Chess Player

 

Probably no American champion took more pleasure out of playing chess, as opposed to winning games, than did Frank Marshall. He would rather lose the game than lose the chance for brilliancy.

—Andy Soltis, Chess Grandmaster

 

Street Fighter Player: Alex Valle, The Attacker

Valle is a formidable man in every sense of the word. Of Peruvian descent, he is strong, carries himself with confidence, and can be physically intimidating. Valle is known for his offensive style, often “rushing down” turtles and overwhelming them with pressure. His style has also proven impossible for other players to copy; things that work for Valle work incredibly well for him, but they often only work for him. He does a lot of unusual things at unusual times and it can be very uncomfortable to face that in a match. He is renowned for his reflex speed and willingness to take risks often. You never know what is going to come out of him next, or when it will come. Even the technique he uses to physically press the buttons is intimidating and disconcerting. Valle’s play style and physical presence often allow him to psychologically beat opponents long before the game is over—sometimes before it starts.

But I will now reveal what I believe to be Valle’s great secret: his offense and his risk-taking are often illusions. This is no slight on him at all—in fact, it is a compliment. While Ortiz shamelessly avoids fighting, Valle appears to be doing quite a bit. He does lots of moves and he maneuvers around close to the opponent. It feels like he is attacking, but often he is merely doing an elaborate dance that keeps him mostly safe and lures the opponent into attacking. While he certainly does take more risks than most players and has better reflexes than most, many of his apparent risks are nearly a “sure thing,” because he has conditioned his opponent to respond in a certain way at a certain time. One does not need fast reflexes or excessive risks if one can be virtually sure that the opponent will do (or fail to do) a certain thing at a certain moment.

Valle cleverly mixes his “fake attacking” with actual attacking. He mixes real risk-taking with simply capitalizing on people’s bad habits. His unpredictability gives him one of the strongest “fear auras” of any fighting game player.

The Obsessed

by Sirlin

 

Chess Player: David Janowski, The Obsessed (1868-1927)

This grandmaster was completely fixated on one aspect of the game: the two bishops.

He had little foibles about the kind of game he liked—his weakness for the two bishops was notorious—and he could follow the wrong path with more determination than any man I met! He was also something of a dandy and quite vain about his appearance.

—Frank Marshall, on his good friend David Janowski

Janowski loved the bishops and his opponents knew it. He surely developed numerous lines of play and board positions that exploited the strengths of his pet pieces. It is the fate of the player obsessed with a certain facet of a game to know that particular facet better than almost anyone—even better than the best players in the world—but to be somewhat lacking when out of his element. Janowski’s opponents learned to offer him situations that would allow him to keep his precious bishops in exchange for losing considerable other material. For many years, US players called the two bishops “the two Jans.”

Street Fighter Player: David Sirlin, The Obsessed

And now I get to talk about myself! I am known secondarily for some of the same traits as Ortiz: my patience and ability to annoy opponents. But I am primarily known for my obsession with doing the same move over and over again. I try to find moves that are 100 times harder to stop than they are for me to do. If I can find something I can do over and over and over without fear of retaliation, then I am at my happiest. When I do discover such things, it doesn’t say much for the game’s design, but that isn’t my problem as a player, and I have no obligation to anyone to play a game “as it was intended” or in an “exciting” way. Janowski caused the two bishops to be called “the two Jans,” but I have caused myself to be called “low strong” after Rose’s move in Street Fighter.

The theory is that if an opponent can’t stop a certain move, then I don’t have to bother with the sticky business of predicting what they will do next. I also don’t have to worry about them predicting what I’ll do: we all know what I’ll be doing! As long as whatever I am doing isn’t making me lose, I’m content to continue doing it and make the opponent prove that he can beat it.

I am also notoriously lacking in dexterity and “technical skill” at games. I’ve always had to make up for this with my good sense of timing (exactly when to do a move). When it comes to tournament performance, I was able to dominate the scene in a particular version of the game called Street Fighter Alpha 2. I won national tournaments, and could consistently beat any opponent in the United States, save for Valle and Choi. In other games, I have reached the upper echelons, but other players have overshadowed me.

The lesson to learn from my play style is that while it can get extremely far, obsession with a single aspect of a game just can’t go all the way. Even in my most successful showings in Alpha 2, my secret was that at the highest level of play against Valle and Choi, I had to abandon my “same move over and over” tactics in favor of using my backup characters, which I played with a much more well-rounded style. After realizing the superiority of Choi’s style, I have attempted to change my focus and “use all the buttons.”

The Snakes

by Sirlin

 

Chess Player: Howard Staunton, The Snake (1810-74)

Many would say my epithet for Staunton is unfair, as he accomplished so many great things in his life. In fact, the standard physical design of chess pieces today is known as the Staunton design, which he commissioned and endorsed. He was the chess columnist for the influential Illustrated London News for twenty-nine years. He played the first game of chess by telegraph, ever. He was even the leading Shakespearean scholar of his day, and he wrote an annotated edition of Shakespeare’s plays. He was unquestionably a man of position, importance, and influence.

However, he proclaimed himself the “Chess Champion of the World.” He abused his editorial powers and engaged regularly in what today we would call flat-out trash talking, both in print and verbally. He was rude and hostile toward those who beat him. It is said that he would use any advantage possible outside of the game, such as making his opponents sit facing the sun! Most famous of his underhanded exploits was his controversy with American champion Paul Morphy. When players challenged Staunton’s self-proclaimed title, he made up excuses that he should not be expected to travel the globe because he had no time to take off from work. Paul Morphy took this as an invitation to travel to Europe and beat Staunton on his home turf. Morphy went to Europe and finally met Staunton and challenged him to a game (Morphy almost never directly challenged anyone, by the way). Staunton made more excuses and put the game off day after day after day. Morphy pressed him and he asked for a month to study his openings. Morphy agreed, yet Staunton never ultimately granted the match. Staunton went on to publish in his paper that Morphy hadn’t showed up on this occasion, hadn’t brought the necessary money to wager on the match on that occasion, and other bold-faced lies. For better or for worse, this type of personality seems to show up in every gaming community, and can be counted on to make blood boil and spur others into action!

Street Fighter Player: Jeff Schaefer, The Snake

Schaefer was in a perpetual state of argument with the entire Street Fighter community. He invented issues to debate, usually centering on how good the other Los Angeles players were, but often about how good various game characters were relative to each other. These character rankings changed every week, and Schaefer regularly took completely insane stances on almost every issue. You couldn’t help but hate him. Most of his attacks were designed to “prove” that pretty much all non-Los Angeles players were no good, and he was happy to stoop to personal attacks to make the flames even hotter. He famously denounced the game skills of one Northern California player, saying he “can’t get laid in a MORGE,” which is the probably the strangest insult I’ve ever heard. Also, he spelled “morgue” wrong.

As a player, Schaefer was good, but not exceptionally so. His main contribution was that he made it practically impossible to sit idle. Schaefer got people’s blood boiling, he made people travel and practice and come to tournaments. He has since left the Street Fighter community and strange as it is to say, I think we are worse off for this loss.

The One True Style

by FMJaguar

 

Chess Player: Emanuel Lasker, The One True Style (1868-1941)

Lasker was polite, a remarkable player, and a remarkable person by all accounts. He held a PhD in mathematics and he happened to share an apartment with Albert Einstein in the 1930s. Dr. Lasker played bridge, Go, and chess. Although he had many interests, he utterly dominated the world of chess. He held the title of World Champion for an amazing twenty-six years, during which time he defended the title seven times. Dr. Lasker’s winning percentage is the highest of any World Champion: 66%. His record was 52 wins, 16 losses, 44 draws for a total of 74 points in 112 games.

But numbers alone cannot convey the genius of Lasker. He was an attacker, but not overly so. He was a defender, but not overly so. His mathematical mind saw solutions on the chessboard that few others could see, but it was not about “finding the solution” to Lasker. He believed chess has a spirit, and that psychology of the opponent was at least as important as chess theory when deciding a move. His style showed a balance of many aspects and schools of thought, and thus he was versatile and adaptable. Like all masters, he made his art look easy. He was also quite adept at making moves that made his opponents very uncomfortable, and at finding his way out of positions that other players called hopeless. The thing that really calls out to me about Dr. Lasker, though, is that others believed his ability to read the mind of the opponent was simply uncanny. Nebulous as it is to “know the mind of the opponent,” that accusation shows up again and again when dealing with the world’s best players of strategic games.

Lasker won so many games from bad positions that he was accused by at least one opponent of witchcraft, by another of hypnotism and by many more as being grossly over-endowed with good luck. In fact, he often deliberately courted difficult positions because he understood the mental stress that can be built up in the mind of an attacker when he meets with a resolute defense. By building up an opponent’s hopes and then placing a trail of difficulties in his path, Lasker would induce feelings of doubt, confusion and finally panic.

—Bill Hartston, Chess Author

 

While both Steinitz and Tarrasch . . . [put] into practice a perfect strategy, playing only the best possible moves on every occasion, Lasker’s approach to the game was certainly more flexible. For Lasker understood better than anyone that the true nature of the struggle in chess was not an objective search for the truth, but a psychological battle against both oneself and the opponent in conditions of extreme uncertainty.

—Bill Hartston

It is remarkable, and deserves special mention that the great masters, such as Pillsbury, Maroczy, and Janowski play against Lasker as though hypnotized.

—George Marco, Chess Annotator

 

Emanuel Lasker was undoubtedly one of the most interesting people I came to know in my later life.

—Albert Einstein

 

Street Fighter Player: John Choi, The One True Style

Choi is polite, humble, and utterly dominating as a player. In high school, he was a champion wrestler, and now he is a champion fighting game player, probably the best overall player in the United States. Choi has good reaction speed, but not the best. He has good technical skills and dexterity, but not the best. He is, however, one of the most adaptable, versatile players around. Choi quickly learns exactly what it is you’re up to, and soon makes you feel a bit silly for thinking you could really get away with it. Like Lasker, he attacks at times, defends at times, and generally plays a balanced game. His style is one of simplicity, and he makes the game look easy. Also like Lasker, he combines the analytical approach of determining the logically correct thing to do in a given situation with the psychological approach of measuring and reading the mind of the opponent. It’s very hard to get such a player “out of his element” since virtually any situation or turn of events becomes his element, just as much as it is yours. In the end, it’s not hard to see why the central style has proven stronger than obsessive styles like my own, or overly defensive styles like Ortiz’s.

Choi has won far too many US national tournaments to even mention.

The Invincible and The Beast

by Sirlin

 

Chess Player: Jose Raoul Capablanca, The Invincible (1888-1942)

If there were ever a player who played to win, it was Capablanca. Throughout his career he refused to study chess books or openings, which would ordinarily not be considered the attitude of a champion, but Capablanca was no ordinary player.

At the age of seventeen, he was one of many players to play simultaneous games against the World Champion Dr. Lasker in an exhibition. Capablanca won his individual lightning game. Three years later, he went on a tour of the United States where he broke records on both speed and results in simultaneous play. He played a whopping 168 games in ten consecutive sessions before losing his first game! His final score was 703 wins, 19 draws, and 12 losses. In 1909, he soundly defeated the American Champion Frank Marshall with a score of 8-1 with 14 draws.

He went on to thoroughly dominate chess with a record of losing only 36 games out of 567 during his entire career. He went ten years without losing a single game!!

By all accounts, Capablanca’s style was direct and flawless. He treated every move as a puzzle with an optimal solution. Content with gaining a small advantage of space or material in the beginning and middle game, he would convert that advantage into a decisive win in the endgame, his known specialty.

I always play carefully and try to avoid unnecessary risks. I consider my method to be right, as any superfluous ‘daring’ runs counter to the essential character of chess, which is not a gamble but a purely intellectual combat conducted in accordance with the exact rules of logic.

—Jose R. Capablanca

 

Poor Capablanca! Thou wert a brilliant technician, but no philosopher. Thou wert not capable of believing that in chess, another style could be victorious than the absolutely correct one.

—Max Euwe, 5^th World Chess Champion

 

I have not given any drawn or lost games, because I thought them inadequate to the purpose of the book.

—Jose R. Capablanca, on his own book about chess

 

It’s entirely possible that Capa could not imagine that there could be a better move than one he thought was good and he was usually right.

—Mike Franett,  
Chess Master and editor of Inside Chess magazine

 

Capablanca was possibly the greatest player in the entire history of chess.

—Bobby Fischer, 11^th World Chess Champion and 
youngest chess champion ever.

 

Street Fighter Player: Daigo Umehara, The Beast

The Japanese call him “Ume,” the Americans call him “Daigo,” and everyone calls him “The Beast!” Daigo is the best overall fighting game player on planet Earth. He is sort of like a Choi raised to the 3^rd power, minus all emotion. When it comes to technical dexterity and deep knowledge of a game’s nuances, Daigo is outclassed by many of his Japanese contemporaries, but when it comes to winning, there is no other. Daigo does not merely win; he utterly destroys. I watched Daigo completely humiliate an American player in a tournament match, just moments before I would face him in the exact same character matchup. Though I was armed with the knowledge of exactly what not to do, Daigo completely rolled over me in a virtual instant replay.

More than any other fighting game player in the entire world, Daigo has the power of yomi: the power to know the mind of the opponent. There is no need to execute difficult combos, or to have deep knowledge of the nuances of a game when you know exactly what the opponent will do next. Daigo throws out “risky moves” left and right, and lands virtually every one, because again, there is no risk when you know what the opponent will do. Going into my match with Daigo, I vowed not to attack at the “correct times” so as to be harder to read, but I found that it is nearly impossible not to attack at the correct times. I have ten years of experience telling me to do so. As soon as you feel the presence of Daigo inside your mind, you have that split-second of second guessing yourself, which is the exact moment he finishes you off. Daigo (and Choi) are both great examples that there is a skill to competitive games more fundamental than the language of the particular game at hand. Daigo doesn’t even need to be particularly “good” at a game to dominate it, he simply is Daigo and wins.