Your life is like those little squares. Small, bite-sized blocks of black and white, no shift, no drift, no blurring of lines. Your strategies are bound by the rules already defined. It's an age-old game. It's like being a Luthor.
Your father broke the rules. Your father took his castle and moved it diagonally across the board. You understand why – sometimes those squares are just too neat. You'd appreciate some grey, a little shading to make the flat morality interesting.
Sometimes you'd like to smash the board and cut people with the shards. The Luthor in you likes it bloody.