M: I'd like to do a quick article about the idea, or rather as a disclaimer that I can link to easily. I already know what I'm going to call it, etc., etc. I just need to ramble and then have you help me clean it up. I'd like you to use my words as much as possible, exclusively if you can, although caulking up the gaps is permissible. Exclusively is too restricting, but maybe a step or two below that. I want it to be my words and my voice is my point. It's not supposed to be an essay, it's supposed to be a cleaned up transcription, basically, and one that is specifically on topic. So I might need you to slice off any rambling that happens in the version you give me. The topic is the term game. What I'd like to say is, when I use the word game in a conversation, I want to be clear that I'm using it in the form that implies a contest, or to put it in a contrapositive way. I don't want people to think I am being dismissive whenever I call something a game. And academics agree with me, otherwise it would be called contest theory, not game theory. Yes, childish things can be called games, but they still are contests because they still have rules that need to be followed, and arbitrators, and objective win-loss criteria. I mean, look at professional sports. On one hand, these guys play a game. On the other hand, billions of dollars are one loss traded whatever, and that was before this stupid legalized betting thing made it so that everyone thinks that they know exactly what they're going to win. Anyway, this is a digression. My point is that calling something a game is not childish, and anyone who tries to dismiss any arguments I make when I refer to something as a game is being childish themselves. They are ignoring rules that they don't like, in this case linguistic ones. Psychologically calling it a game can make things easier in terms of removing it. American English allows you to use the term in a way that equivocates between kids playing hopscotch and the final chess match that determines the grand champion or grandmaster of the world, or an election, or anything else equally serious but that follows rules. So when I say something is a game, if you think of that as being dismissive, you're being an idiot. Okay, I think that's all I have to say in an overarching term. I just feel like I might come back here for another pass at it because there's a couple nuances or instances that went through my head earlier that I seem to have lost and probably won't come back until it gets triggered again. But please show me what you think it is that I said after cleaning it up the way I asked you to.
G: Here’s a cleaned, on-topic version that stays as close to your original wording and voice as possible, with only light caulking and trimming of digressions:
When I use the word game in a conversation, I want to be clear about what I mean by it. I’m using it in the sense that implies a contest. I am not being dismissive. In fact, if academics didn’t agree with this usage, it wouldn’t be called game theory—it would be called contest theory.
Yes, childish things can be called games. But they are still contests. They still have rules that have to be followed, arbitrators, and objective win–loss criteria. Look at professional sports. On one hand, these guys “play a game.” On the other hand, billions of dollars change hands on a single loss or win. That was true even before legalized betting made everyone think they know exactly what’s going to happen.
My point is simple: calling something a game is not childish. And anyone who tries to dismiss an argument just because I refer to something as a game is being childish themselves. They are ignoring rules they don’t like—linguistic ones, in this case.
Psychologically, calling something a game can actually make it easier to handle. American English already allows the word to slide between kids playing hopscotch and the final chess match that determines a world champion. It applies just as easily to elections or anything else that is deadly serious but still follows rules.
So when I say something is a game, and you take that as me being dismissive, that’s on you. If your reaction is “this must not be serious because he called it a game,” then you’ve misunderstood the language—and you’ve misunderstood my point.
If you want, we can do another tightening pass later when those missing nuances resurface.
M: Try giving me a version that reduces each of my points to a single sentence in a single paragraph. I just want to see what it looks like. Maybe it'll knock loose some of the stuff that I've left out.
G: Here’s your single-paragraph, one-sentence-per-point compression, still in your voice and order as much as possible:
When I use the word game in a conversation, I mean it in the
strict sense of a contest and not as a way of being dismissive, and the
fact that it’s called game theory rather than contest
theory already backs that up.
Childish things may be called games, but they still have rules,
arbitrators, and objective win–loss conditions, which means they are
still contests in every meaningful sense.
Professional sports make this obvious, because people say the players
are “playing a game” at the same time that billions of dollars rise or
fall on the outcome.
Calling something a game is therefore not childish, and treating it as a
way to dismiss an argument is itself a childish refusal to follow
rules—specifically, linguistic ones.
There is also a psychological utility in calling something a game,
because it can make a serious system easier to reason about without
stripping it of its stakes.
American English already uses the word this way, sliding naturally from
hopscotch to championship chess matches to elections and other
rule-bound, high-consequence systems.
So when I call something a game and someone hears dismissal instead of
structure, that isn’t a flaw in what I said—it’s a misunderstanding of
the language being used.
This keeps your structure but compresses each idea into one clean strike.