If Chess Were a Person...

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If Chess Were a Person...

Chess isn’t just a game. It’s a person. And not a nice one.

If chess were a friend, it would hand you a banana peel with a grin and whisper, “Go ahead, trust me,” just to watch you faceplant.

It would never text back when you ask for a simple game... then randomly queue you against someone 2000 points higher, sipping popcorn while you panic.

Chess would forget your birthday but remember every tiny mistake you’ve ever made.

• Move a pawn wrong? Personal.
• Miscalculate a fork? Personal.
• Spend three hours learning an opening only to lose in three moves? Extremely personal.

Chess would be the friend who invites you for coffee, then spills hot tea on your notebook the second you think you’re safe. That G4 opening you trusted? Trap. That Queen sacrifice? Disaster. That “easy endgame” you counted on? Gone.

It would laugh silently when your king gets cornered, then act innocent when your bishop “just happens” to block your own pieces. And somehow, every pawn you move screams silently for help.

Chess would also be the friend who makes promises: “This game will be fun, I promise.”

• Fun? Hah. Fun is losing your queen while your opponent smirks.
• Fun is realizing your best move was literally right next to your face the whole time.
• Fun is knowing your rating just dropped like it’s auditioning for a horror movie.

And yet... somehow, no matter how many times it ruins your day, you come back. You click “Play” again. You know it will destroy you. You know it will humiliate you. And somehow, you love it anyway.

Chess is that friend you hate, fear, and secretly worship all at once. That friend who is terrible for your mental health but you just can’t quit.

And honestly? Maybe that’s the point.