(I’ve got a cold, which I am responding to like a baby. As a result, I’m drinking NyQuil like Kate from “Jon and Kate Plus 8″ drinks human blood (I can’t prove that she actually does this, but to date no one has ever argued with me when I’ve made this claim.)
The gooey, doped-up haze that I’m floating around in is the only excuse I have for this post. Let me spoil it for you: It’s 1000 words worth of made-up chess rules. I’m going cross-eyed and even I know that this is a bad idea.
Whatever, help me out and spread the word on these exciting new rules. If there’s one thing that hard-core right wing conservatives have taught me, it’s that if enough people say something on the Internet, it becomes true.
Enjoy.)
About a year ago, my friend Brian wanted to start playing chess.
I hadn’t played a significant amount of chess since I was 11 or 12, against my Dad, who was a gentlemen, but didn’t pull any punches either. He had been on the chess team in high school, and maybe he wasn’t good enough to beat Bobby Fischer, but he was certainly good enough to beat my ass on a consistent basis.
"I can't believe my eyes! A Minotaur!"
Then, in high school, in order to kill time at forensics meets (another of the hip activities I participated in as a teenager), I played a few games against a guy I knew who wouldn’t play games unless he was positive that he could beat you at them. A few rounds of getting beaten up on by a less than gracious peer was my last experience with chess up to that point.
Those experiences led me to believe that
A) I wasn’t good enough at chess to compete against anyone but a 9 year old who had never played before, and as a result
B) I didn’t like playing chess very much.
Brian’s a pretty nice guy, though, and I figured he wouldn’t steam it in when I lost the way my other friend did, so I told him I would give it a shot.
It was pretty rough at first, and I’m still not very good, but I really enjoy chess now. He and I play about three times a week.
Like I said, it wasn’t always easy; I spend the first two months that we played spending ten or twenty minutes per turn and still getting torn apart. Even now, when we play timed games, I consistently run out of time. Brian and I are about 50/50 when we play now, though, making it more fun for both of us, I think. We’ve also both gotten better in the process – I know a few openings now, I’m familiar with forks, skewers and gambits, and I don’t find myself in checkmate three moves into the game nearly as much as I used to.
There’s only one conclusion to draw from this: Brian and I have completely mastered the game of chess.
So what do you do to keep a game fresh when you’ve accomplished everything that you can possibly accomplish in it?
Simple, really. You start making up your own rules.
The next step, of course, is to mix up those rules with real ones and then put those rules on your blog in an attempt to use the Internet to convince everyone that they’re real.
Let’s begin.
Pieces:
The Minotaur: As even the greenest chess player knows, if a pawn is advanced to the opponent’s back rank, the piece can be promoted to a Queen, Rook, Bishop or Knight. Only the true chess aficionado, however is aware of the piece promotion required to achieve a Minotaur. The Minotaur is a difficult piece to obtain, to be sure, but well worth the effort.
First used in the now infamous Sarkifsky-Lumbaugh match of 1906, obtaining a Minotaur requires that the player advance three pawns to the opponent’s back rank. The pawns must sit on the back rank until all three are advanced, and if even one is captured, the Minotaur cannot be summoned. If the player is able to obtain the Minotaur, however, his opponent’s fate is all but sealed. The powerful Minotaur (which is represented by a Knight sitting on top of a Rook) can move in the same fashion as a Knight OR a Queen, meaning that, if placed correctly, it can attack more than half the squares on the board. The most famous use of the Minotaur was in an unforgettable battle between Johhny “Two Pawns” Jackson and Alfred Mackleby. Mackleby had an almost eighteen point advantage late in the match, but ignored Jackson’s advancing pawns until it was too late. It is said that once Jackson advanced his third and final pawn, the only sounds that could be heard were the shocked gasps from the crowd and the dulcet tones of Mackleby forcefully soiling his pants in a deliberate display of rage.
You kind of have to use your imagination for the electric guitar.
The Wizard: Another piece that only the savviest chess players utilize. Acquired by the same means as the Minotaur, the Wizard, which is represented by a Bishop sitting on top of a Rook, is unable to move. This lack of mobility is countered by his extremely powerful attack – Capable of summoning a mighty lightning bolt by wailing on an electric guitar atop a mountain, the Wizard is able to destroy any piece on the board but the King for every move that it is left untouched. Although when used correctly the Wizard can wreak havoc on an opponent’s pieces, one must be cautious when using the Wizard; since it cannot attack the King, the chances of a stalemate increase exponentially as more and more pieces are removed from the board. This piece was used frequently during the 1700′s, but didn’t find it’s way into the modern game until it was popularized by Franklin Blumenkurtz during his run at the 1942 International Chess Championship. Blumenkurtz cruised into the semi-finals with ease, but his run was cut short in his match against Hanz Schliken. Blumenkurtz appeared to have won the game when he aquired the Wizard, but Schliken responded with the Dirty Sanchez (A technique described below). Blumenkurtz immediately resigned.
Techniques:
The Queen’s Gambit: An opening where the player sacrifices a pawn in order to speed up development.
The Clown’s Gambit: An opening that involves losing a major piece in exchange for a minor piece, or, in extreme cases, nothing. If the gambit results in losing to the opponent in a humiliating fashion, all the better. Used as a tactic to imbue the opponent with a false sense of confidence when playing multiple games against them for money. All of the famous Chess Sharks of the 1800′s used the Clown’s Gambit to fleece their opponents and use their ill-gotten gains for the finer things that professional chess players needed hard currency for, namely polio medicine, asthma inhalers and female companionship.
The South Beach: Any number of moves. The only requirement for a combination to be called the South Beach is that when you perform it, you are “Bringing The Heat”.
The Gary Cooper: An opening that Brian and I haven’t figured out yet. We like the name, but the only reason it came up was because we started singing “Puttin’ On The Ritz” one night while we were playing. I don’t really even know who Gary Cooper is. Help me out on this one. I’m never going to get it into Wikipedia if I can’t make something up.
The Dirty Sanchez: A nuanced maneuver where the player inserts their index finger into the opponent’s rectum and subsequently runs it across their upper lip, giving them what appears to be a thin mustache. Primarily used as an intimidation tactic, and an effective one at that: There are no recorded instances of a competitor performing the Dirty Sanchez on an opponent and losing the game. I swear that this is true. Google it.
There. That should do it. It’s only a matter of time before these techniques find their way into the modern game of chess, AND YOU CAN TAKE THAT TO THE BANK, MOTHERFUCKER.
Just a little bit more proof that chess is super cool:
Yup. That’s pretty much what it’s like.
I get MY kicks ABOVE the waistline, sunshine.