Here in Maine, I'm attempting for something like to the tenth time in my life to become a "gamer" in the only sense that has enough snob appeal to seem worth pursuing: by learning to play chess. Going at it in my usual slow-grind fashion by reading a book on the subject. Soaking up just enough jargon to be able to b.s. about the game, if not actually play it. Which has been my approach, pretty much, to every field of knowledge I've ever explored. Luckily, writing is one of the few professions the practice of which is actually enhanced by the magpie accumulation of superficial knowledge. A chicken and egg problem that probably shouldn't be squinted at too closely.
UPDATE: It's snowing!
"Alan Turing loved chess and played all the time, though he wasn't nearly as adept on the chessboard as he was on the chalkboard. At Bletchley Park he was fortunate to be surrounded by accomplished players, and the chess pieces were always handy. The onetime British champion Conal Hugh O'Donel Alexander was Turing's deputy. Future British champion Harry Golombek was also on the staff. Golombek's chess superiority over Turing was such that he could overwhelm Turing in a chess game, force Turing's resignation, and then turn the board around to play Turning's pieces against his own original position--and win."--from The Immortal Game.