“You see, this profession is filled to the brim with unrealistic |||||||||||||. |||||||||||||| who thought their ||| would age like wine. If you mean it turns to vinegar, it does. If you mean it gets better with age, it don’t. ”

-Marsellus Wallace, Pulp Fiction

:: The Turtle || IdrA and Francois-Andre Danican Philidor :: In life, it often seems there are actions–events so unique and powerful that they cannot be understood in relationship to anything else–and then there are reactions to that original event that can only be understood within the parasol of context. Action. Re-action. Newton explained it well. It is the proverbial rock thrown into the lake and the ripples that flow ever outward on the tides of time. Francois-Andrew Danican Philidor was one such ripple that became a tidal wave, immersing the entire world of chess in his strategic deluge–forever. Philidor hailed from a prominent musical family. According to legend, it was while awaiting a royal visit at court that Philidor learned to play chess, which was often done to pass the time before a visit from the king (who enjoyed listening to the choir, hence Philidor’s presence). A generation or so after the Modenese era of chess, Philidor’s style is a direct response to the period that preceded him. By this time, the process of knowledge filtration (academic Reaganomics) had ensured that a majority of his opponents were using the Italian style, in much the same way that players like BitByBit would succeed to Kyrix’s throne. In this era of constant aggression, Philidor’s route to success was clear: defense. It was not the most impressive, exciting, or flashy style, but, he contended, it was the best. This style advocated a strong, self-sufficient pawn structure (akin to droning hard) and to use that structure to hold the center of the board (akin to expanding a lot). Put simply: Philidor developed the small, seemingly insignificant stuff for long-term advantages which reminds this author of a certain Zerg superstar met many moons ago: Greg “Idra” Fields. Throughout his StarCraft 2 career, even in his hayday at the top of his game, Idra received complaints about his playstyle being “boring” or “repetitive.” He focused on essentials, which for a Zerg player is drones, drones, and then, some more drones. Idra so advocated droning, to the utmost extreme at the end of his career, that he would oftentimes bait cheese out of otherwise-passive players due to his tendency to cut so many corners in the early game. This drone advantage exagerrated an already-significant production perk of Zerg: an ability to produce seven workers per hatchery per cycle in comparison to the one worker per base of other races. By quickly flooding three bases of drones, Idra made himself a tempting target for those seeking a quick victory. If he survived, Idra could quickly remax again and again, eventually overwhelming his enemies in true Swarm fashion. Idra enjoyed a period of much success, living in Korea while competing in the GSL for many seasons, but such a safe playstyle became way too predictable for those dastardly Koreans who exploited this well-known weakness. In theory, Idra’s playstyle was textbook Zerg; in practice, however, as with any book, once you have read it cover-to-cover, the book slams shut. Before his death, due to the political atmosphere of the time, Philidor’s familial wealth was either in decline or inaccessible to him. His final years were spent in England as a direct result of the French Revolution. He was forced to play chess to sustain his lifestyle instead of focusing on music that he loved but with which he was never very successful. He would often comment as to how he felt suppressed as a composer. This is an oddly reminiscent scenario, as at the end of his career, Idra was quoted as saying much the same thing. Like Idra, Philidor was criticized for being more “instructive than correct,” but this was after his death, at a time he could clearly no longer accept this challenge, so we may never know. This could perhaps be attributed to the jealousy great men inevitably inspire. Or perhaps the Turtle, like his namesake, simply took too long to get where he was going.  

“For the last two months, Philidor had been kept alive merely by art, and the kind attentions of an old and worthy friend. On Monday last, Mr. Philidor the celebrated chess player, made his last move, into the other world.”

–Howard Staunton

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