Infinite Analysis?: How to Avoid Technological Tilt

Beware of the obsession with finding “the perfect move” with the engine...

Chess engines have transformed the game. Stockfish, Lc0, and other engines allow us to analyze games with surgical precision, uncover hidden ideas, and verify lines in seconds. However, this near-unlimited access to knowledge has brought a troubling side effect: analysis paralysis. And even worse: technological tilt. Before continuing, let’s name the enemy.

What is "tilt"?

The term "tilt" comes from the world of poker and refers to an altered mental state where emotions —frustration, anger, anxiety— take over and cause a player to make systematic errors. In chess, the term has been adopted to describe the negative effect of continuing to play (or study) after a blunder, loss, or frustrating session, without mental clarity.

When we add technology to the equation, tilt takes new forms: obsession with finding “the perfect move” according to the engine, rejecting our decisions just because the evaluation isn’t +1.20, or being unable to finish a game because we feel the need to check every possible line.

Instead of helping us improve, technology is —subtly— pushing us to distrust our own thinking.

Where does technological tilt show up?

1. Where does technological tilt show up?
After a loss, many players rush to the engine to “see what happened.” But what begins as a review turns into torture: you see your “human” move wasn’t the best, you lost half a point by missing a hidden resource… and the analysis stops teaching —it starts punishing.

2. In opening preparation
With ChessBase and online databases, you can review a thousand games, twenty variations, and let Stockfish evaluate each line. The problem: the next day, you don’t remember what you were actually going to play. Or worse: you don’t trust any line, because “everything leads to equality with precise play.”

3. In engine-based training
Many players turn their tactical or strategic practice into an impossible exam: if you don’t find the engine’s move, you get frustrated. You stop appreciating human ideas —good moves, even if not “the best.” You lose instinct.

How to fight technological tilt

1. Use the engine as a second coach, not as a judge
Before turning on the engine, analyze the position yourself. Ask: What do I think of this position? What lines did I consider? Then compare with the engine. That way, you keep your thinking alive.

2. Set limits on your analysis
Set a number of lines or a time limit to review. For example: “I’ll analyze until move 25 and check no more than three defenses.” Endless analysis is sterile.

3. Accept that human chess is imperfect
Sometimes, a move that’s not “best” by engine standards is still the best for you —in a practical setting, under time pressure. Competitive chess is not a precision show, it’s decision-making under stress.

4. Work with qualitative evaluations, not just numbers
Instead of obsessing over “+0.30,” think in concepts: “I have the better structure,” “my pieces are more active,” “I have an initiative worth the pawn I sacrificed.” Human evaluations often have strategic depth the engines don’t prioritize.

5. Disconnect the engine when not needed
Not everything has to go through Stockfish. Solving studies, reviewing classic games, or simply playing without help will rebuild confidence in your intuition and remind you that chess is also art, not just science.

The engine is a tool. A powerful one, yes —but a neutral one. It all depends on how you use it.

Let’s see an example of how absurd it can become to blindly trust the engine while ignoring our natural instincts:

In the diagrammed position, White to play. It was taken from the game Colbow, Collin vs. Gukesh Dommaraju, played in February 2024. It’s clear that Black has launched a very dangerous attack: the bishop on c6 is dominant, the black queen is far better placed than her white counterpart, and although the open f-file can’t be used immediately, the queen pin from a2 limits White’s defense.

The international master playing White blundered and soon lost:

27. Ne2? Nf6! (with the idea of ...Kh8 and ...Ng4)
28. Ng3 g6! (not 28...Ng4? due to 29. Rh5! +–)
29. Be2 Kh8, and ...Ng4 is coming, devastating the position.

But what was the correct move in the diagram?

If we blindly trust the engine —Stockfish 17.1 with depth over 50— it suggests 27. Rc5! as the best move by a significant margin.

But is it realistic to find such a move in a real game? Not really. It goes against the natural logic of human chess thinking, even at the highest level.

A more realistic and strong human move would be 27. Ne4!, blocking the dangerous bishop and neutralizing Black’s threat of ...Nf6. White’s chances remain intact.

That’s a human decision —realistic and easy to understand— and far more valuable for improving our chess.

Don’t lose sight of this truth:
Victory on the board doesn’t come from a +2.00 you see at home. It comes from the calm and judgment you apply when it’s your move