Binary — where it appears
Named by 20 essays across 6 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
Hackenbush is a numeral
Draw a stalk of coloured edges. Read it as a string, blue for one and red for zero, and the string is the binary expansion of what the position is worth. Not approximately — exactly, and the site computes it both ways and refuses to build if they disagree.
Nim, and the nim-sum
Three heaps of counters, take as many as you like from one of them, and the player who takes the last counter wins. The winning condition is not a search, not a table, and not a heuristic — it is the bitwise exclusive-or of the heap sizes, and it was found in 1901.
The simplicity rule
When both players' options are numbers, the position is worth the simplest number strictly between them. Not the midpoint, not the average, and the difference between "simplest" and "middle" is the entire content of the rule.
Cutcake, where every value is a whole number
A partizan game in which no position is ever worth a fraction, a star or a fight. Every value is an integer, the integer is a count of spare moves, and the pattern it follows is decided by binary digits.
A row of coins is already a sum
Everywhere else on this site a sum is several positions side by side. In a coin-turning game it is one row — each coin showing heads is a game in its own right, and the row is worth the exclusive or of them. The decomposition is inside a single picture.
A green edge on a blue one
Blue over green and green over blue are the same two edges in the other order. One is worth 1∗ and the other ↑∗ — a number with a star on it against something smaller than every positive number — so a stalk with all three colours in it stops being a numeral and starts being a position whose value depends on what is underneath.
The digits say which move wins
Wythoff's cold positions are usually given as a pair of golden-ratio formulas. Written in Fibonacci base they are a statement about digits instead — the smaller heap ends in an even number of zeros and the larger is the same numeral shifted up a place — and a rule about digits answers a question about a heap of a trillion.
The other sum, the one that nests
A move in one part wipes the other out entirely. That is the ordinal sum, it is what a Hackenbush stalk actually is — 1 : (−1) is a half, and 1 : (−1) : 1 is three quarters — and it is not an operation on values at all: three positions all worth zero give three different answers under it.
Taking from several heaps at once
Moore's Nim lets a move take from as many as k heaps at a time, and the losing positions are still read off the binary columns — divisible by k + 1 rather than by two. The rule agrees with exhaustive search over 54,264 positions and never disagrees, and it decides every outcome while supplying no value at all: reading the same columns as a base-3 number gets the Grundy value right on 42 of 330 positions.
The code names the move
If the lost rows of a coin-turning game are a linear code, then a won row is a codeword with errors in it and the winning move is whatever turns the errors off. Over all 256 rows of Mock Turtles on eight coins: 16 codewords, 240 won rows, none more than two coins from a lost one — and 64 of them whose cheapest winning move has to turn three coins anyway.
No two heaps alike
Welter's game is Nim with one extra clause — no two heaps may be the same size — and the clause is fatal to the nim-sum, which gives the right answer in none of the 120 three-coin positions. What replaces it is a function of pairs: ⟨a | b⟩ = (a ⊕ b) − 1, exact on all 55 two-coin positions, and nim-added over every pair it is exact on the whole board provided the number of coins is even.
Nothing worth fighting over
Shove is a strip of coins beside a cliff, and both players have completely different moves. Every one of its 728 positions is worth a number, so nobody ever wants to move; the winner is the owner of the coin furthest from the cliff, in all 728; and the number the board is worth is not the sum of its coins — that reading is exact on 126 strips and wrong on 588 of the other 602.
A tree is still a number
A Hackenbush string spells its own value in binary. Put a fork in it and the numeral has nothing to read — there is no leftmost anything. The value is still a number, in all 10,066 forests up to six edges; it is still computable, by the ordinal sum, in all 3,238 single-trunk trees; and the reading is right on 762 of them, of which 126 are the strings it was written for.
The criterion that cannot exist
The rung below asked for a quantitative version of its condition — turn 'the reading survives mixing three quarters of the time' into a statement about the strip. Three strips of four squares settle it. `.LLR`, `.LRL` and `.RLL` have the same length, the same reading, the same coins and the same single run, and their readings are wrong by 1¼, ¼ and ½. The error is a fact about the order of the colours, and 207 of 805 statistical classes carry more than one of them.
A numeral in the empty squares
The rung below ruled out a quantitative criterion for Push and asked for a numeral over the coins combined with a count over the gaps. The two ingredients are the right way round: the colours pick a fraction — −1, −1/3, −1/7, −1/15 — and the empty squares give the binary precision, so a run of k coins before one of the other colour with g gaps is worth exactly (1 − 2^(−kg)) ÷ (2^k − 1). And it does not compose: a strip of two runs is not the sum of them, on any pair tried.
The cliff a cut invents
The rung below asked for a correction term in the gap between two Push runs. There is none, because the gap's contribution vanishes: widen it and the strip's value converges geometrically, at a rate set by the back run's length alone, to a limit that is not the sum. And Shove — whose reading is exact everywhere — fails at the same cut, which says the broken thing is the cut and not the game.
Read from the back forwards
The rung below found a two-run Push strip converging at a rate set by the back run and asked what a third run does — whether the rate is still the rearmost run's, or whether the rates compound. It is the rearmost run's, and for every gap: widen the front gap of a three-run strip, two whole runs away, and the value still dies at the last run's rate. Shove, the game one clause away, compounds.
The obvious cut is the wrong one
Maundy Cake's rule was proved by restating its lemma so the short side vanished. Cutcake's collapses the same way — into a binary length instead of a multiset of primes — but the cut the argument needs is not the one the ladder predicted. Halving is wrong on a third of all cakes, and the smallest counterexample is six squares by two.
A set with a short description
Bouton's argument is a closure argument about a set, and every impartial game has such a set — its own losing positions. So the method is complete and proves nothing. What made 1901 a theorem is that his set had a description shorter than the game, and swept over fifty-six subtraction games, exactly seven have one of his kind.
The proof is sixteen cells
Lasker's Nim has a four-clause formula that was checked on two thousand heaps and never proved. The proof fits in a four-by-four table: the last two bits of a split's value are fixed by the last two bits of its parts, so no split can land in its own heap's class — except at 3 mod 4, where it lands exactly on the one value the takes leave missing and pushes the answer up by one.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
HackenbushPartizanDisjunctive sumClosed formExhaustive searchGrundy valueImpartialNim-sumNormal playSimplicity ruleEnumerationInvariant