And it is now, as of move 10, that we have a completely new game

Chess and improv

My husband and son have entered the chess season of their lives. They play chess, they do chess puzzles, they watch chess videos. Nothing about the game interests me at all.

Knowing a lot about improv, and now a lot about chess, my husband suggested this post.

There’s a chess Youtuber “agamator's Chess Channel” who will talk through chess games while showing them move-for-move on a virtual board. I’ve recently learned that there’s a lot of memorization in chess. People study chess openings, endgames, and tactical patterns. I think this is one thing that makes my eyes glaze over when I think about chess. When it comes to games, I like to learn the rules, then play. When I play Scrabble, for example, I look at my letters, figure out the best words, and where to put them to get a high score. I’ll go so far as to block my opponent from getting a bonus point square, but when it comes to figuring out what letters are still in the bag to be able to deduce what my opponent likely has and what they’ll spell? I’d rather jump off a bridge. It’s not the way my brain works and not my idea of fun.

In addition to memorizing openings and endgames and strategies, chess players also memorize entire games. A chess player is likely to, say, know the Magnus/Gukesh Norway 2025 match. (Bridge…jump.) BUT here’s what’s cool about agamator’s Chess Channel. He’ll talk through the opening of a game, likely all of which has been memorized and planned for. Then inevitably he’ll say “And it is now, as of move 10, that we have a completely new game.” Meaning that this is a chess game that has never been played in the (recorded) history of chess.

There are more possible chess games than there are atoms in the observable universe. And now I’ll draw the link to improv. The rules of improv turn off many improvisors. Expecting to just be able to get onstage and flow, students buck side-coaching to explicitly state the base reality and make statements instead of asking questions. Likewise, game turns off a lot of improvisors, maybe not forever, but most improvisors go through at least a phase where they avoid game. Game feels too mathematical, too restrictive, too formulaic. Improvisors in that phase tend to fall in love with either the fun and freedom of a slacker, or the space for quiet and drama in more character-based work. (I was in the character camp.)

Game-based improv is restrictive and a bit mathematical, but and this is a big but, BUT within the restriction is the space for so much creativity. Even scenes that start in the exact same way are almost immediately unique. Here’s one example, every time I teach backline support I use a couple of the same base scenes. For one scene, I have two improvisors play friends walking through an art exhibit. The backline takes turns walking on and freezing as the art. Those are the base reality and mechanics of the scene, but we discover the game once it starts. This scene is different every single time a new group does it. Sometimes the art is unusual, sometimes the people looking at the art are both unusual or just one of them is. Each and every single way that it’s unusual is either slightly or drastically different. Maybe the improvisors label the art as erudite and the backline freezes in increasingly dumb or crude poses. Maybe the art is just art, but one player can’t stop talking about the guy they used to date 10 years ago. Maybe the friends talk about the size of the art and the backline is challenged to match the use of their bodies with the description of the scope. Every single time, this scene is different.

Here’s another example. In my Wednesday 101, we were focusing on object work. One student would start with nonverbal object work. The next student would quickly observe them then join in with an activity. In this case the first student came out and did something a bit complicated. I wasn’t sure what it was at first, then it felt like she was looking through a telescope. The second student came out and started stacking things next to the telescope. Then the students started to speak. The first said that it was a nice night for looking through the telescope and the second started laughing so hard that she cried. Through her tears she said, “I brought you all these towels."

And it is now, as of move 2, that we have a completely new game.

The student then picked up a towel to dry her tears. She explained that the view through the telescope was so beautiful that it made her cry and that’s why they needed the towels.

I would pay $1,000 for this improv scene.

When I started writing about improv I worried that I was helping to teach AI how to improvise and write comedy. Chances are, I am. I guess we’re all supposed to assume that any and everything we write or film or talk about within recording distance of our phones can all be used to feed the beast. But AI cannot be a person who starts uncontrollably laughing until they cry when accidentally stacking a pile of towels next to a telescope. It doesn’t matter how many openings or endgames or tactical patterns we learn. Our mistakes and our humanity are what make this my game.

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Vacation! I’m going to take a 2 week break. I’ll post the audio version of this post on Monday, then give my brain a little break. Be back 7/18 with the next post.

Upcoming Shows:

Old Yorkers at Second City Friday, 7/11 at 7:00pm

Old Yorkers at Fun and Dumb Improv Fest at BCC Sunday 7/13 at 5:00pm

Asssscat at UCB Friday, 7/25 at 7pm Livestream

Upcoming Classes:

UCB Improv 301 starting Saturday, July 26 11am-2pm

UCB Improv 101 starting Monday, July 28 7pm-10pm