"The Hellenic game polis and the Roman game latrones are both centuries older than chess or chaturanga, so there's an even longer history of strategy board games with aspirations of martial relevance. The trouble is, the skills you learn as a novice player don't transfer very well to things that aren't strategy board games. Even though military theory and chess theory have overlapping concepts like 'initiative' and 'maneuvering', they're not entirely the same thing. Worse, the focal point of player development undergoes a phase change around Class B towards memorizing colossal game trees and figuring out how to navigate the branches as they gradually thin out near the extremities. If you try to assess your commanders using their Elo rating as a proxy, at best you're going to run into collider bias. It took a remarkably long time to invent a reasonably accurate simulation game for commanders to train up their fingerspitzengefühl without getting their hands dirty in the field."
So it's a good thing this hive mind doesn't comprise humans.
There is a growing presence in this room, rippling across the Warp as the silvery cords linking mind to mind continue their process of self-assembly. One that strains against the conceptual bounds of conceptual bounds, yearning to break free into the realm of baryonic matter. One that instinctually lurks at the far edge of perception, detectable only as a trace of apprehension, the lingering absurd fear that a superlatively dangerous phantasm has approached both silent and unseen. Even half-formed it assumes the stance of a confident predator, content to observe until the moment is right from its hiding place in the edges of the graph.
A shadow falls across Hogwarts Castle.
"Practice? We could have a warm-up, if you need one," she chirps. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes.