Learning how to improve my templates wasn't exactly easy. At first, I had no clue how the system worked. I assumed having the "Tal" template meant I'd be some kind of mini chess god—like I'd just sit across from someone and boom, I'd be seeing six moves ahead, sacrificing pieces like it was 1960 in Bled. Yeah… no. Reality hit me the first time I played chess with Alex.
It was the second time we met. I casually asked if she wanted to play a game, and to my surprise, she agreed immediately. I had no idea that 4-year-old Alex Dunphy already knew how to play chess. In my arrogance, I figured with Tal's template—even at the beginner level—I should at least beat a kindergartener, right?
Wrong.
She beat me. Easily. And she flaunted it. Her smug little smirk and the way she casually flexed her intelligence? Yeah, it rubbed me the wrong way. For the first time, I truly understood what Haley must go through on a daily basis.
That was the wake-up call I needed. Just because I had a legendary template didn't mean the knowledge came installed like some downloadable content. If I didn't even know the rules well, how was I supposed to play like Tal?
So, I swallowed my pride and asked Mitch to buy me some chess books. He was actually thrilled—I was a pretty quiet kid most of the time, so he saw it as a bonding moment. Soon enough, I was poring over openings: the Ruy Lopez, the Sicilian Defense, the French Defense—you name it. But here's the thing: just studying them didn't increase my experience.
I learned that only mastering openings, like being able to play multiple variations from memory, gave me +1 EXP. Weirdly enough, just learning the rule of en passant gave me a point, but slogging through the King's Indian Defense? That took effort.
Eventually, I realized that the most consistent way to gain Tal EXP was simple: win games. Every win gave me +1 EXP. I beat Cam first. He was going easy on me, but it still counted. Then I started improving. I took a few losses against Alex—each one a lesson. And finally, I managed to beat her.
I noticed something strange starting to happen. No, I wasn't magically playing like Tal. But in the mid-game, when things got messy, I'd feel this strange pull—like a deep instinct to attack, to sacrifice, to tear through defenses with reckless precision. I think that's Tal's influence, subtly awakening. Maybe once I hit the next tier, I'll unlock more of his style.
Meanwhile, life kept moving.
Mitch and Cam enrolled me in kindergarten. They didn't really have time to go hunting for fancy schools—unlike with Lily in the show—because they adopted me just before the academic year started. I ended up in the same kindergarten as Alex. Surprisingly even back then, she didn't talk to many kids. I was one of the few exceptions.
Me? I got along fine with people. I'm not sure if it's Jane's influence or just Cam's dramatic genes rubbing off, but I love listening to gossip. And let me tell you—kids have prime gossip. Like, did you know there's construction happening near the park? Or that a cop dropped ice cream on his pants during a chase? Or that our kindergarten teacher was spotted holding hands with a guy?
Day one was wild. I talked to a bunch of kids, made some fast friends, and confirmed a few rumors. Like the teacher? Definitely dating. Fresh nail paint, a slightly giddy glow, and that smile that says "I'm texting him during lunch." I don't know if that's her default vibe, but I'm calling it: she had a great date.
All of that came from observing. Quiet clues, small details—the kind of stuff Patrick Jane picks up on. That template is slowly, slowly activating in me.
And then there's rock-paper-scissors.
I challenged a bunch of kids in kindergarten, and I am undefeated. I could close my eyes and still win. I'm the undisputed GOAT of the playground when it comes to this game. But I didn't stop there.
I played with Claire and Phil too, when Mitch and Cam took me to visit. After demolishing both Alex and Haley, Claire got competitive. Mitch warned her not to bother—told her I wasn't kidding. She didn't listen. After about 30 games, she gave up.
Phil? Oh, Phil's a trooper. He kept going. 70 games in, still losing, still hopeful. At one point, I even tried to lose. I delayed my throw, picked the wrong one intentionally—but Phil also delayed, and somehow I still won. It was honestly heartbreaking. That Kazuma luck? Way too strong.
Eventually, I had to tell Phil he could beat me at any other game. We played basketball, and yeah—he crushed me. That cheered him up. Luke was still a baby, so in a way, I was Phil's practice son. Our pre-Luke bonding moment.
By the time we went home, the day had been full of new lessons and subtle wins. I could feel myself slowly evolving. So, I opened my status screen again.
[Status Screen]
Current Templates:
Mikhail Tal – Beginner (110 / 10,000) [+10]
Kazuma Satou – Beginner (300 / 10,000) [+220]
Patrick Jane – Beginner (20 / 15,000) [+5]
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Comic Strip: Phil vs The Phenomenon
That weekend, we visited Claire and Phil again. The moment I stepped onto their porch, Phil swung the door open like he'd been waiting for hours.
"Rock. Paper. Scissors. Now."
I blinked. "Phil, it's been three days. Are you still on this?"
His eyes were bloodshot. "I watched fifteen YouTube tutorials. I studied statistical patterns. I'm ready."
Mitch tried to intervene. "Phil, maybe—"
"No, Mitch. Let the boy answer. One round. Winner takes pride."
I sighed. "Okay. But this is the last time."
We squared up. Claire peered in from the kitchen with a wine glass, muttering, "This is why I drink."
We played.
Rock. Paper. Scissors—Shoot.
I went with paper. Phil hesitated mid-throw and did scissors, then panic-shifted to rock at the last millisecond.
My paper smothered it anyway.
Victory. Again.
He froze. His hands dropped to his sides. He slowly sank to his knees on the doormat and stared at the sky like he was in a war movie flashback.
"He's not a kid..." he whispered.
"He's a phenomenon."
Luke started crying in the background. I gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
"Don't worry, Phil. You'll beat me... in Monopoly. Maybe."
Phil didn't respond. I think he needed a moment.