Exhaustive search — where it appears
Named by 312 essays across 9 fields — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The first theorem, and the winner it declines to name
Zermelo proved in 1913 that a finite game with no chance and no hidden information is decided before anybody sits down — every position is a win for one side or a draw, and which one is settled already. The proof is a labelling procedure, and watching it run shows exactly how little it says.
The game in every exercise book
Dots and Boxes is played by more people than every game in this collection put together, and everybody is taught the same rule — take every box available. The rule is wrong. Establishing that takes a solver rather than an opinion, and the solver says how wrong, on which boards, and by how many boxes.
The chains decide it before the boxes do
Under every game of Dots and Boxes there is an impartial game with no score in it, and it settles the question the scoring game keeps asking — who ends up having to open. The rule players learn as folklore falls out of it, and so do the exceptions nobody mentions.
The theorem that needed none of the theory
Bouton solved Nim completely in 1901, with an argument that mentions no value, no sum of games and no Grundy number, because none of the three existed. The argument is two closure properties and it is airtight — and run on any other game it fails at the step that does the work.
The game with the shortest rule is the hard one
Deciding a generalised board game is PSPACE-complete, which is a statement about families and encodings rather than about size. Nim in the same subject is settled by one pass over the input at any size, and green Hackenbush by one pass over the edges — while Domineering, whose rules take a single line, has no shortcut anybody has found.
Toads and Frogs
Toads shuffle right, frogs shuffle left, and either may jump over one of the other. A strip six cells long is worth exactly up. Another six-cell strip is worth exactly down. Nobody has a formula for which.
Start at the end and work backwards
When play can return to where it started there is no bottom for the recursion to stand on. What replaces it begins at the positions where somebody has already lost and propagates outwards — and the positions it never reaches are exactly the draws. There is no test for a draw, and there does not need to be.
A golden ratio thirty years early
Wythoff described the losing positions of his game in 1907 with an argument about partitions of the integers, and no Grundy value anywhere in it. The theory that arrived thirty years later computes the same positions — and has never produced a closed form for the values, which the older argument had for the zeros from the start.
Sprouts, and the game that is not one
Two games played with dots and curves, invented in the same room, all but indistinguishable on paper. One is unsolved past forty spots. The other has no decisions in it at all — the winner is fixed before the first curve is drawn.
A position reached eleven ways is one position
A 4×4 Domineering board has 5,700 positions in it and 6,257,129 routes through them. Three heaps of 7, 11 and 13 have 480 positions and 7.6 × 10¹⁶ routes. The gap between those two numbers is not an optimisation — it is the difference between a search that finishes and one that does not.
A chess problem that turned out to be an octal game
Dawson posed it in 1934 as a puzzle about pawns. It is the octal game ·137, its Grundy sequence is eventually periodic with period 34 from heap 52 — and the word doing the work in that sentence is eventually, because five values below the start disagree with their repeats and always will.
The board falls apart, and the arithmetic changes
A 4×5 Domineering board with a wall down the middle has 2,916 positions in it, and that number is exactly 54 × 54 — the product of its two halves. Solving the halves separately costs 108. Decomposition is the one saving in this subject that turns a product into a sum.
The theorem that names a winner and no move
Strategy stealing proves that the first player wins Hex and wins Chomp, on every board, in about four lines. It exhibits no move, contains nothing a move could be extracted from, and is not going to. The moves have to come from somewhere else, and where they come from runs out almost immediately.
The move that gives counters back
Poker Nim adds one rule to Nim — a player may put counters back onto a heap from a private reserve. It looks as though a losing player could stall for ever. The winner is decided by exactly the same nim-sum, and the reason is the single most useful idea in the whole reduction apparatus.
The sequence nobody has settled
Guy and Smith surveyed the octal games by hand in 1956 and conjectured that every finite one is eventually periodic. Seventy years and a great deal more arithmetic later, some of them have settled and some have not — and the evidence for the conjecture is entirely that nobody has found a counterexample they were looking for.
What counts as the same position, and what that is worth
Folding a 4×4 Domineering board by its symmetries takes the table from 5,700 entries to 1,522 — a saving of 3.75, against a ceiling of exactly 4. An orbit cannot be larger than the group acting on it, so this is the one saving in the subject that can never change an exponent.
A winning strategy that is a spanning tree
The Shannon switching game was sold in a box in 1960 and solved in 1964, and the solution is not a claim that somebody wins. It is a property of the graph anybody can check, and the strategy falls straight out of it — whichever link the opponent cuts, take its partner in the other tree.
A puzzle asks once, a game asks alternately
Quantifier alternation is the whole difference between a puzzle and a game. One chooser is an existential and its answer is a witness somebody can check; two choosers taking turns is a prefix of alternating quantifiers, and the witness stops being an assignment and becomes a strategy.
Three ways to add the same games
A move in exactly one component is a choice, not a law. Move in every component at once and the game is different; move in any set of them and it is different again. The same two positions, added three ways, give three different answers — and only one of the three has values that add.
The game that is a number system
In Sylver Coinage two players name integers and nobody may name a sum of what has already been named. Its positions are not boards — they are numerical semigroups, its termination is a theorem of Sylvester's from 1884, and the question of who wins after the opening move 16 has been worth a thousand dollars since 2017.
Squash every loop to a point
Colour every Hackenbush edge green and the game becomes impartial, so the whole picture is worth a single Nim heap. Two principles find which one without playing anything — fuse the cycles, then run one pass up the tree — and a nine-vertex lattice that costs 1,283 positions to solve costs twelve steps to read.
Comparing two positions means playing a third
There is no way to look at two games and see which is better. The question "is G at least H?" is answered by building G − H and asking who wins it — so the most basic operation in the theory is a decision problem, and every canonical form is built out of them.
Counting at the end changes everything
Go is scored. So are Dots and Boxes, chess and almost everything anybody plays for money — and none of them is the kind of game the whole theory of sums is built for. The simplest scoring game there is shows what that costs — the normal-play theory gives every position of it the same answer, and the answer is useless.
Nim is easy, in binary
Three heaps of a thousand counters take thirty bits to write down and three thousand counters to lay out. The nim-sum does three exclusive-ors either way. Whether that counts as fast depends entirely on which of the two numbers the work is compared against.
"Left wins" has no short proof
A complete solution of Nim on heaps of 7, 11 and 13 is 480 table entries. A winning strategy for the same position — one move of the winner's at each of their turns, and an answer to every reply — has 56,167,022 nodes in it. The answer is smaller than the proof by a factor of a hundred thousand.
A game where nobody can be ahead in moves
A blue stone beside a red one is a move for both players at once. So neither player can run out while the other still has something to do — and every value the game produces is smaller than every positive number, by the shape of the rule rather than by inspection.
Sente is a fact about the rest of the board
A move that must be answered is called sente, and the word is used as though it described the local position. It does not. The same fight is answered while the rest of the board is quiet and ignored once it is busy, and the crossover — measured by solving the whole board at every temperature — sits at the follow-up's own temperature.
Tame and wild
The genus is a Grundy value with a tail — the misère values of the position with 0, 1, 2, … heaps of ∗2 added — and a game is tame when its symbols are the ones Nim heaps have. Computed here for seven games over heaps 1 to 14: Kayles goes wild at heap 5, Dawson's chess at heap 9, the octal game ·6 at heap 7, and heaps 3 and 11 of Dawson's chess are both worth ∗2 under normal play with only one of them tame.
The nimbers multiply
Nim-addition is exclusive-or and everybody meets it first. There is also a multiplication, defined by the same take-the-least-value-not-forced manoeuvre as the mex — and it makes the nimbers below sixteen a field, with every axiom checked here and an inverse for every non-zero value.
A conjecture from hand play
Sprouts was invented over tea and its outcome pattern was guessed from games played with a pencil. Computers have checked it far past where a person could go, and this site's own solver gives out at three spots — so the honest figure states the frontier it reaches rather than the number somebody else published.
Independence is a claim
Splitting a position into parts and adding the values is the whole method of this subject, and the splitting step is a claim about the position rather than a fact about the drawing. Where it is false the two answers differ — and the failures that matter are the ones that keep the same winner and change the value, because nothing reports those.
The class is named after memory, and that is not an accident
A 4×4 Domineering board has 6,257,129 routes through it, 5,700 distinct positions, and a deepest line eight moves long. Those three numbers are three different resources, and the smallest of them is the one that gives games their complexity class.
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 tartan theorem
The nimbers are a field, with a multiplication defined by a mex-style rule that looks like an algebraist's amusement. Lay two coin-turning games on a grid and the Grundy value of each square is the nimber product of its two coordinates — which is the point at which the multiplication stops being a curiosity and starts computing answers.
A move that must be answered
Every argument about sums assumes the parts are independent: a move in one leaves the others alone, and the reply may go anywhere. Top Entails denies it — take the top coin of a heap and the opponent must answer in that heap. The nim-sum then misreads 9 of 36 two-heap positions, and two heaps of two coins are a first-player win, which no impartial game the theory covers can be.
Double sente is not a property of the position
A fight with a threat on each side is called double sente, as though the phrase named a shape. Swept against a rising ambient temperature, one such fight — { {5 | 3} | {2 | −4}} — is double sente up to an ambient of 1, sente for one player only from 3/2 to 3, and gote for both from 7/2, and the two band edges are the temperatures of the two follow-ups.
The losing positions are a code
Turn over one, two or three coins, and the rows a player has already lost turn out to be closed under adding two of them together. That makes them a linear code — and on eight coins it is the extended Hamming code exactly, sixteen words with a weight enumerator of 1 + 14x⁴ + x⁸, produced by a move rule that knows nothing about codes.
The strip nobody has a formula for
Some toads, a gap, some frogs. Two counts and a spacing is the whole description, and the values that come out of it are integers, stars, switches with eighth-point options and a down — four classes inside one two-parameter family, which is why nobody has written the formula.
Three different claims are all called solved
Hex is solved in the sense that the first player provably wins, by an argument that names no move whatever. Nim is solved in the sense that a formula gives the right move from any position at any size. Between them sit strategies for one opening, and databases of a few billion positions. The word covers all four.
When a real board falls apart
Amazons is played competitively, and late in a game the arrows have cut the board into regions no piece can cross. From that moment the position is a disjunctive sum — arrived at by the play rather than assumed — and the territory count every program uses can be measured against what the sum is actually worth.
Four values, and the sequence is settled for ever
The Grundy values of a subtraction game repeat with period 7, and proving it needs a window of exactly four of them — one for each size of move the game allows. Everything past the window follows by induction. A finite computation has settled a claim about every heap there will ever be.
One rule makes it cold, the other hot
Col forbids painting next to your own colour and Snort forbids painting next to your opponent's. Over all 540 colourings of six graphs, not one Col position has anything at stake and 61 Snort positions do — the difference between a game that is a count and a game that is a series of fights, produced by one word.
The period is small and the proof does not say so
Every subtraction game repeats eventually — that is a theorem, and its proof gives a bound of sixteen thousand for a three-move set. Over 112 sets the longest period measured is twenty-two. The proof and the fact are four orders of magnitude apart, and the rule of thumb that closes the gap is broken by one set in the sweep.
When never ending is a win
Retrograde analysis labels a position a win when somebody can force the opponent to be stuck, and leaves everything else blank. Calling the blanks draws is a rule from outside the game — and two other rules are available. The labelling does not change under any of them; only the residue does, and on a three-cycle that residue is every position on the board.
Maundy Cake
Cutcake with one word added: a cut must divide the piece into equal parts. The values are still whole numbers, and the rule this site has been repeating about them is false — over all 1,296 cakes to 36×36 the largest-odd-divisor account has 946 counterexamples. What survives is a count of prime factors, and it says who wins without saying by how much.
A thermograph with two bends
A wall bends where the option holding it up stops holding it up, and most drawn thermographs bend once. { {5 | {3 | 1}} | 0} bends twice, at 1 and 3/2, and neither height is its temperature of 7/4 — every bend lies strictly below where the walls meet. Over a census of 17,255 hot positions two levels deep, a second bend in one wall never happened once.
Equal in every company
Two games are equal when no third game can tell them apart — a quantifier over every position there is, discharged by one finite test. A search over 184 contexts separates all 5,790 unequal pairs it is handed and still calls two different games the same, which is exactly why G − H = 0 is a theorem and an exhaustive search is not.
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.
What a tame heap may be replaced by
Calling a heap tame is only worth anything because a tame heap can be swapped for a Nim position with the same genus in any misère sum. The swap is not always a single heap: Kayles' heap of eight is worth ∗ under normal play and carries the genus of 2 + 3, and substituting ∗ instead gets three of the twenty-eight Kayles pairs wrong.
Cooling by exactly one
Cooling is usually met as a way of reading a thermograph: a tax, and two numbers at the height of the tax. Applied as an operator it returns a position instead — and then the obvious question is whether heating gives the position back. Over the 1,474 values born by day three, 27 survive the round trip and 15 of those are numbers that never moved. Cooling throws away almost everything it touches.
The one outcome that adds
Finite outcomes do not add: two first-player wins can sum to anything. Loopy play has seven outcome classes instead of four and adds even less — of the 28 cells in the table, eleven hold several answers. Two do not, and they are the two worth having: a second-player win added to anything leaves the outcome alone, and a draw added to a draw is a draw. A draw added to anything else is not.
The cost is in the closure, not in the positions
Under normal play, Dawson's chess needs four classes for every heap up to twelve, because its Grundy values stay at three or below there. Under misère play the same game needs six, then twelve, and the number rises with the universe rather than with the position — which is a different kind of expense entirely.
When the ups add
Atomic weight brackets do not add over a sum — they bound it. Over all 120 pairs from a fifteen-game family the sum's bracket came out exactly the sum of the parts' brackets 56 times, strictly narrower 64 times, and wider never; and the rule separating the two is one line long, because every one of the 54 pairs with a pinned part is exact and only 2 of the other 66 are.
A number and a fight
Charge a position exactly what it is worth fighting over and the fight disappears, leaving the mean value — with something still attached to it. Over all 1,122 hot values born by day three the residue is smaller than every positive number, it is a star in 942 of them, and it is never nothing. So a hot game is its mean plus a fight plus a remainder that no number reports, and the remainder is what decides close games.
A token on a graph
Geography is an impartial game whose position is a vertex and a history, so a ten-vertex graph has ten thousand states rather than ten. Take the arrows off and the same game is decided by a maximum matching — first player wins exactly when every maximum matching covers the start, verified on 41 vertices across eight graphs. One word in the rules separates a polynomial criterion from a PSPACE-complete problem.
Amazons on one line
A board one square high is small enough to evaluate completely: every strip from two to ten squares with one amazon a side is 37,886 positions taking 81 distinct values, and every one of them is an integer, a switch, a number plus a star, or a bare star. Not one is a fraction — and forcing the arrow onto the square just vacated, which takes a freedom away rather than adding one, produces 1,196 that are.
Finding the parts
Decomposition turns a product into a sum and is the largest saving in the subject. Nobody labels the regions. The pass that finds them costs the same on every board of a size — including the boards where there is nothing to find — and what it buys ranges from four orders of magnitude to nothing at all.
The values that are their own negatives
Every game satisfies G + (−G) = 0, so a game equal to its own negative satisfies G + G = 0 — it has order two in a group whose elements otherwise have infinite order. The nimbers do. So does ±1, on sight. Over the 1,474 values born by day three there are 30 of them and only four are nimbers, every one of the 900 sums of two is another, and the equality test and a symmetry of the written form agree 1,474 times out of 1,474.
Three players and no answer
Every theorem here is about two players, and the reason is not convenience. With two players the game is zero-sum, so 'play well' needs no further explanation. Add a third and the winner of a Nim position becomes a fact about the convention: two reasonable ones disagree on 56 of the 71 positions swept. The one question no convention touches — can a player force a win against the other two together — is answered 'nobody' in 65 of the 71.
A pass is not a move
Put a single pass token on a Nim board and one clause decides everything. If it may be taken at any time — including as the move that ends the game — the value of the whole is the nim-sum with a one added, in all 120 positions swept: the pass is a heap of one. Forbid it as the final move and the value stops being a function of the nim-sum at all, and 3 and 1 + 2 come apart.
Knowing who wins, and knowing what it is worth
Deciding a winner expands positions. Computing a canonical form expands pairs of positions, because a comparison unfolds as a recursion over one subposition of each and the reduction makes many comparisons. Measured on the same nine positions by an evaluator that starts empty every time, the second costs between 1.3 and 279 times the first, and the ratio grows with the tree.
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.
The same strip without the jump
Delete one clause from Toads and Frogs — the hop over an opponent — and the game is Elephants and Rhinos. Over the same 3,279 strips the values do not become simpler in the way a reader would guess: every value that is a number becomes an integer, against 172 fractions with the jump in, and the count of positions worth fighting over nearly doubles. Removing a move made the game hotter.
Two games in one environment
A coupon stack measures a position: play the whole board out and the coupon the players stop at is the temperature, the score is the mean. Put a second position beside the first and one of the two measurements stops working. Over 36 ordered pairs the contributions still add to the means every time, and the coupon a fight is entered at moves on 13 of them — without either position changing.
When the nested sum only sees the value
The ordinal sum reads the form and not the value: three positions all worth zero, placed under a star, give three different answers. On impartial games it reads the value after all — 72 substitutions of an equal-valued heap from a different game, and every ordinal sum comes back unchanged. That difference is the whole reason a green Hackenbush tree can be collapsed one branch at a time.
Taking from the ends
End-Nim is Nim's board with a player at each end, and it takes one sentence to state. Not one of its 5,460 small positions is worth a non-zero number — the game is all-small, so zero is the only number any of them can reach — and there are 2,693 distinct values between them. The outcome says a great deal more: 4,738 of those positions are won by the same player whoever moves, and on two heaps the rule is that the larger end wins.
A rule with a guarantee
Evaluating a sum of a dozen fights is impossible; following a rule is not. Move where the stake is largest, and over 220 sums of three hot components the rule scores exactly what perfect play scores in 196 of them, is never more than one point behind, and never ends more than the largest single stake below the mean. The rule that is supposed to be different — answer the threat — chose differently in none of the 220.
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.
Nobody has to move
Every convention here rests on one sentence nobody examines — the players move alternately. Replace it with an auction and a position stops having an outcome class and starts having a number: the share of the money the second player needs. The 22 values born by day two collapse to seven of those numbers, eight of them landing on exactly a half; the new number respects the game order on all 179 comparable pairs, and is not determined by the parts under addition on 14 of 49.
What a number does to a fight
Adding a number to a position moves everything and changes nothing: over three thousand translations the temperature never once shifted and both stops moved by exactly the number added, every time. What the number decides is whether the fight is worth having — and the interval where the two players are confused is exactly the open interval between the negated stops, right in all 2,890 cases away from its endpoints and wrong in 110 that are all on them.
Cooling adds and heating does not
The two operators are presented as a pair, and they are not one. Cooling a sum is the same as cooling the parts and adding, on every one of the 1,768 pairs tried, at two taxes and on two pools. Heating fails on 263 — and not for the obvious reason: in every failure neither part and not the sum is a number, so the clause exempting numbers never fires at the top. It fires two levels down, where an option of a sum is one part's option plus the whole of the other.
How rare it is to be bigger
Values are partially ordered, and 'partially' does most of the work. On day two, 179 of 231 pairs can be compared and 13 of the 22 values can be compared with zero. One day later the shares are 60% and 29%, and the largest set of mutually incomparable values found rises from four to at least twenty-three. Comparison is the exception; confusion is what values normally do to one another.
It ends, and nothing says when
The recursion this site runs needs every line of play to reach a position with no moves, and the condition is usually met by an obvious decreasing quantity. The hydra meets it with no such quantity anywhere: the tree grows at nearly every step and the fight ends regardless, because the only thing that decreases is an ordinal. A four-node hydra dies in twenty chops; one level deeper and 279 chops reach forty thousand nodes with no end in sight.
One row of Clobber
Every string of blue, red and empty squares up to eight long — 9,840 rows — carries one of only 111 values, and every one of them is infinitesimal. A third of the rows are worth exactly zero. Six alternating stones are worth zero and eight are worth a form that takes four lines to print, so the values do not simplify as the row grows: they explode, while the row stays trivial to describe.
The values that keep arriving
A Grundy sequence that repeats uses finitely many values and stops needing new ones. Six thousand heaps into ·007 the count of distinct values is 187 and still climbing, and the share of heaps carrying something outside the twenty-two commonest rises from 32% in the first thousand to 85% in the sixth. The rare values a periodicity argument needs to thin out are getting commoner.
An option nobody would take
Every reduction of a form deletes. The gift horse principle adds: a move may be handed to a player for nothing, provided it is one they would never choose. Over all 484 additions to the values born by day two, 283 leave the value exactly where it was and the 201 that move it are precisely the ones the condition forbids — with the boundary at *not better*, which is a weaker demand than *worse*.
Equal in this company
Equality quantifies over every game there is, and the quantifier can be made smaller. Restricted to a company of nine numbers, the twenty-two values born by day two collapse to seventeen; restricted to four games — nought, one, minus one and star — they stay twenty-two, and no three of the four will do. The company that decides equality is tiny, and it has to contain a star.
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.
Splitting is a move
Add to Nim a move that removes nothing — break a heap in two — and the Grundy sequence gets simpler, not harder. Lasker's Nim has a closed form with one clause per residue modulo four, exact on all 2,001 heaps checked: the identity with every fourth pair transposed. Kayles is the same kind of game with the taking bounded instead of the splitting, and it has no closed form at all, settling into a period of twelve only from heap 71 with fourteen values outside it for ever.
The operator chosen for one game
Chilling is cooling by exactly one, and the one is not derived from anything. It is chosen because Domineering mostly runs at that temperature — and measured against this site's whole Domineering catalogue it turns thirteen of fifteen boards into numbers or numbers plus a star, and warms thirteen of the fifteen back exactly. They are not the same thirteen: eleven boards do both, two freeze too far to be recovered, and two stay hot and come back on the nose.
What is left when the small change is thrown away
Canonical form answers a demanding question: which positions are interchangeable inside every sum whatever. A player with a hot board does not have every sum — an infinitesimal difference cannot decide anything against a genuine fight — so there is a coarser question with an exact answer. The reduced canonical form takes the 1,474 values born by day three to 61, with 292 of them collapsing to zero, and it is a homomorphism on all 8,100 pairs tested only when a second pass is made.
Below zero
Temperature is described as urgency and urgency has no obvious bottom, but the scale stops at −1 and only the numbers are on it. The rung above is exactly zero, and the 337 values born by day three that sit there are the ones a number cannot be told from — flat thermograph, nothing at stake, and an infinitesimal that no number can see. Two independent computations agree on the classification for all 1,474.
The heap is not the position
Fibonacci Nim bounds a move by twice the previous move, which puts the state outside the board: a heap of six with a cap of two and a heap of six with a cap of five are different games. So there is nothing to add and no Grundy value to compute — and the game is completely solved anyway. The opener loses on exactly the nine Fibonacci numbers up to 120, and the smallest term of the Zeckendorf numeral is a winning move in all 110 winnable heaps.
The simplest game above both
Values sit in a partial order, and a partial order is entitled to be ragged: two things with no least thing above them. The 22 values born by day two are not ragged at all. Every one of their 253 pairs has a least upper bound and a greatest lower bound among the same 22, and the order is distributive on all 10,648 triples — so it is a lattice, and the join of zero and star is one half.
Two players, two lists
Give each player their own list of how many counters they may take and the impartial theory stops applying. What survives is the outcome: it settles into a repeat, for every pair of lists, and that is a theorem. What does not survive is the value — on four of six pairs swept it has no repeat inside sixty heaps, and the birthdays are still climbing at the edge of the window.
Two ways to end with no bound
Sylver Coinage and the hydra are both guaranteed to finish and neither will say when. The difference is that one of them carries its own bound: every move in Sylver removes at least one gap, the gaps can be counted in a moment, and over ten openings the longest play uses every single one. The hydra has no decreasing quantity a solver can hold — three hydras of five nodes each take seven chops, twenty-one, and a number past two hundred and seventy-nine that this machine never reaches.
What can be struck out
From G + X = H + X it follows that G = H, in one line, by adding −X to both sides. It is the shortest theorem here and the most used: it is what makes comparing two boards region by region legitimate. Over 10,648 triples the hypothesis fires 484 times and the conclusion holds 484 times — and the licence expires in three separate directions, each of which loses the same axiom in a different way.
A period with a constant added
An octal code says what a player may do when removing k counters, in three bits; a hexadecimal code adds a fourth — leave three heaps — and the digits run to fifteen. Over twenty-two codes swept to six hundred heaps, five hexadecimal ones repeat with a fixed amount added each time round and no octal one does. Their values climb for ever and never repeat, so a search that looks only for repetition reports them unsettled.
A rule with no promise at all
Playing in a hottest component comes with a bound: never more than the largest single temperature below the mean of the board. Over 220 sums the bound holds 220 times — and so does the bound for a rule with nothing behind it, which scores exactly what perfect play scores on 205 sums against the hottest rule's 196. The control that shows the bound is doing work is the rule that plays the coldest component, which breaks it 74 times and loses up to eleven points.
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.
How long it lasts
Move in every component at once and the game ends the moment any one of them does. Grundy values say nothing about that game; what decides it is the remoteness, a second number computed from the same tree that measures how long a component can be made to last. Over 2,268 positions the rule is right every time, and the two numbers determine each other in neither direction.
Nobody wants to move here
A position is a number exactly when every move loses ground for the player making it. The test never mentions numbers, it disagrees with the ordinary one on none of the 1,474 values born by day three — and the reason a position fails it is not that somebody wants to move. It is that somebody cannot afford to wait.
The genus of a sum
A genus symbol is meant to be carried one per heap, so that a solver never has to look at the heap again. That is a claim that the pair of symbols determines the sum's, and across nine games and 405 pairs it holds without exception — while the bases alone determine it in only 38 of 50 cases and the superscripts alone in 70 of 74. Both halves of the symbol are load-bearing, and two wild heaps can add to a tame sum.
Topple it from either end
A row of blue and red is the picture this site opens with, and under Hackenbush's rules it is always a number. Knock the pieces over instead of cutting them — everything on the chosen side falls — and 480 of the 510 rows up to eight pieces stop being numbers. The two games agree on sixteen rows, every one of a single colour, and the temperature of the hottest row climbs by exactly a half for each domino added.
The operator that puts the star back
Chilling is not invertible: it freezes, and 400 values born by day three collapse onto 29. Both heating and Norton's warming operator are exact right inverses of it — each lands back where it started, on all 400 — and they pick different preimages, differing on 396 of them and differing by exactly a star on 335. The clause that separates them is one line long and it is about the integers.
The reduction that puts options back
Canonical form is presented as simplification, and half of it is. Deleting a dominated option takes one away. Bypassing a reversible one substitutes the answer's whole option list, so it can leave the form wider than it started — and 60 of 32,428 forms end up with a canonical form wider than they are.
What an infinitesimal does to a fight
Adding a number moves both stops by exactly itself. Adding something smaller than every number moves neither — across 10,318 additions to a whole day of values, not once — and the outcome class changes anyway, 2,622 times. It changes at exactly one kind of position: the ones with a stop sitting on zero, which is where the numbers have run out of things to say.
How cold a sum of hot games can be
The temperature of a sum is at most the largest temperature in it, and the bound leaves the whole interval below it open. Over 1,035 pairs the sums do not use that interval: 864 sit exactly at the maximum, 160 are frozen outright, and eleven land anywhere in between — every one of them with a component whose wall bends.
The other way to move a row
Shove has a cliff and Push has a wall, and that is the whole of the difference. Both games make every one of the 728 strips up to six squares a number, so neither ever has anything worth fighting over — and the two rules do not agree on the value of a single position. The obvious board-reading is exact on 446 strips under the wall and on 140 under the cliff, and 486 strips contain a coin its owner cannot move at all.
The reduction that always shrinks
Canonical form is two reductions and they are not the same kind of operation. Deleting a dominated option removes one option and can do nothing else; bypassing a reversible one substitutes a whole option list. Over the 256 forms born by day two, deleting alone finishes 225 of them and accounts for 480 of the 520 options that come off — and the 31 it cannot finish are almost all the ones with a star in them.
Every group must keep breathing
NoGo is Go with no captures at all: a stone may be placed only if, afterwards, every group on the board still has a liberty. That makes a move's legality a fact about the whole board rather than about the squares it occupies — and a board therefore almost never breaks into independent parts. Of 117 boards here whose empty points fall into two regions, 24 are the sum of their regions and 93 are not.
The values nobody's game produces
The construction hands down 1,474 values by day three. Seventeen rulesets on this site, swept to eleven thousand positions, produce 1,193 — and only 116 of those are on the construction's list. Two of the twenty-two values born by day two are produced by no position of any game here, and 1,077 of the values that are produced are born later than day three. A value's birthday and a value's reachability have almost nothing to do with each other.
What a move nobody makes is worth
If Right's move in a fight has to be answered, then Left's move in the same fight prevents an exchange Right was going to get for nothing. That is a reverse sente, and pricing it is the awkward case: over sixty measurements the gain matches the local temperature once and the follow-up's swing twice, and the band over which the move is worth taking is not the band over which the move it reverses is sente.
How much a list of options can lose
Deleting a dominated option is the reduction with no surprises, and how many options it takes is decided by the shape of the order rather than by the values in it: the survivors are the maximal elements, and the count is the length of the list less the number of them. The essay separating the two reductions closed by predicting that the longest chain would give the number. It is a lower bound, exact on 3,859 of the 7,315 four-option lists and wrong on the rest.
A board that is a sum of its regions
A table of rectangles is a table about the openings. A partly played Domineering board is not a rectangle, and evaluating one means splitting it into pieces no domino can straddle, looking each piece up and adding. The catalogue of 104 shapes does it correctly on every one of the 3,227 positions of a 3×4 board it covers — and among the shapes are two worth an up and a down, which no rectangle ever is.
What is left when the copies pair off
A pile of n copies stays within a bounded distance of n times the mean, and the distance never grows. The difference is a game rather than a number, and what it actually is has a much better answer: for a plain switch it alternates between one fight and nothing at all, and for a fight with a follow-up it is different every time — bounded in size and unbounded in complexity.
The numbers it is confused with
A position is confused with a number when neither is at least as good as the other, and the set of such numbers is an interval. It is exactly the open interval between the two stops: over 36,850 comparisons the rule is wrong nowhere it speaks, and the 2,596 comparisons it declines are precisely the ones at an endpoint, where the position and the number differ by an infinitesimal.
The strip where every number is a whole one
Delete the hop from Toads and Frogs and the halves, quarters and ups vanish completely: over 9,801 strips, every value that is a number is an integer, without a single exception. The guess that the hopless game therefore has a formula reading the gaps is half right and exactly wrong — 1,460 strips of eight squares are switches, and three strips with the same counts of toads, frogs and empty squares are worth 1, {2 | 1} and 2.
How wide a form can get
Bypassing a reversible option replaces it with a whole option list, so a form grows in the middle of its own reduction. Whether it can come out wider than it went in is the question that leaves standing, and over 64,515 forms built from day-two options the answer is no, not once — the growth is real, it is transient, and the widest canonical form reached is exactly as wide as the widest form that reaches it.
When the bracket decides
A Clobber row's value is an all-small game nobody can hold in their head, so the practical answer is the up-bracket: a pair of integers between which its atomic weight must lie. As an approximation it is worth exactly what it settles — 1,585 of 7,875 pairs of rows are ordered by it, every one of those orders is right, and of the 6,290 it declines, 4,222 have no answer either.
What a value costs to write down
The canonical form is the smallest form of its value, and it is smallest in the one currency the reduction happens to spend: options. Counted in symbols it is nothing of the kind — the widest value born by day three is not the longest, the longest has six options rather than seven, and every canonical form on the day except the seven integers writes some position out twice.
Which end of the interval is open
The confusion interval is open at both ends, and the two ends are not the same kind of open. At its own left stop a position can be below the number, confused with it or equal to it, and — over 2,948 comparisons — above it exactly thirty-three times, every one of them a value whose two stops are the same number and whose left end is therefore also its right one.
The birthday of a sum
Two values born by days m and n have a sum born by day m + n at the latest, which is the bound that stops a board made of many small parts from being unboundedly complicated. Over 231 pairs of day-two values the bound holds every time and is exact 163 times — and every pair it misses by three days or more has a sum that is a number or a nimber, so the slack is not noise but a measure of how much cancelled.
When two thermographs can be added
The temperature of a sum is not the sum of the temperatures, and the natural repair is to add the whole diagrams instead. Over every pair of hot values born by day two the added walls always bound the true ones and the mast always comes out right — and the whole diagram is right exactly when at most one of the two components is hot, which is precisely the case a reader has no use for.
How hot a day gets
A day of construction buys exactly one degree of temperature — nought, then one, then two — and the value attaining the maximum is unique on every day: ∗, then {1 | −1}, then {2 | −2}. The distribution underneath is not tidy at all: it peaks at a half, leans to the right of the peak, and has a hole in it at one and three quarters where nothing is born.
A pool built to punish greed
The rung below found a rule with no theorem behind it beating the rule with one, and predicted that a pool of deliberate traps would reverse the result. It does not. The traps miss, because the rule called greedy scores a move by the stop it leaves and a stop already contains the follow-up — and the rule the traps do catch, losing sixteen points where the guaranteed rule loses five, had to be written to make the point.
Nobody comes back
There is a class of games in which running out of moves is permanent, and it is the setting almost every modern misère result is stated in. Nine of this site's eleven rulesets belong to it across 5,334 positions; the two that do not are Toads and Frogs and Amazons, and Toads and Frogs loses the property to a single clause — delete the hop and it joins the list.
What a wider pool rescues
The misère outcome table has sixteen cells, and over a pool of ten positions fifteen of them hold fewer than four outcomes — which looks like structure and might be a shortage of positions. Thirteen values further on there is nothing left: every pair of outcome classes takes every outcome, so the near-misses were the pool, and the prediction the rung below made was right.
What a component has to carry
Three impartial games — Fibonacci Nim, Top Entails and Nim with a held pass — break the sum, and they break it for the same reason: a component cannot say what its own legal moves are. Measured with one instrument — one number per part, exclusive-ored — the failure rate runs from a quarter to nearly half, against a control where the same recipe is a theorem and is never wrong.
The strategy that is a symmetry
A pairing strategy is a symmetry of the board that turns one player's moves into the other's, and it wins without computing anything. Tested by playing it out rather than argued, it wins one of seven candidate symmetries across four games — exactly the Cram boards with both sides even, which is exactly where no domino is its own image.
How long a row a value needs
Add a third colour that either player may topple and a row of seven dominoes reaches 1,047 distinct values where two colours reach 149. That makes the length of the shortest row worth a value into a measure of the value's complexity — one a reader can hold in their hand — and it is not the birthday: 1↑ is born on day three and needs seven dominoes.
When the regions add
The rung below described the NoGo boards whose regions add as the ones with symmetric walls, and said the description was a guess made from six examples. It is wrong: fourteen symmetric boards do not add and sixteen that add are not symmetric. What replaces it is a criterion about liberties — sound on all 117 boards, provable in a line, and complete on only nine of the twenty-four.
A sequence with a rule and no period
The values of the subtraction game where Left takes one or two and Right takes one or three never repeat — thirty-one heaps, thirty-one different values. They are nonetheless completely described: three seeds and the rule v(k + 3) = {0 | v(k)} generate every one of them, which is what a pattern without a period looks like.
The number nobody needs
The compound theory carries a third quantity — the suspense number — computed by the remoteness recursion with both preferences reversed, for the compound that stops as soon as any component stops. It governs that compound correctly. So does remoteness, so does the plain Grundy value, and the shortening does not change the winner on any of 1,176 positions.
How hot a background has to be
The reduced canonical form throws away infinitesimals, and the rung below asked for a bound: how hot must the rest of the board be for the discarded part not to matter? There is no such bound. Safety is not monotone in the background's temperature — an eighth is safe, a quarter is not, two is safe again — and the quantity that does decide it is not a temperature but a stop.
How hot a real position is
Counted one value at a time, a tenth of the subject is hot. Counted one position at a time — every board this site has enumerated, all 11,397 of them — it is a twentieth, two thirds of the positions are worth numbers outright, and ten of the seventeen rulesets never produce a hot position at all.
The answer that starts another fight
A local move is answered while the ambient temperature stays below the follow-up's — and that rule, which this site has carried since the anchor opened, is exact only when the answer ends the fight. When the answer starts another one the crossover is exactly half the follow-up's temperature, on every position tested, and a third level of fight does not halve it again.
The reading that survives too much
Counting the empty squares in front of each coin gets a Push position right half the time, and the rung below said the failures were exactly the positions with two coins of opposite colour side by side. Sixty-six of the 1,072 failures have no such pair, the smallest is five squares long, and the condition that does decide it is not about the board at all — it is about every position the board can reach.
Where the nimbers run out
A single End-Nim heap is a Nim heap and every palindromic row is worth a nimber, so the impartial theory looks as though it might get a long way into a partizan game. It gets one row in thirteen. Five nimbers occur in five and a half thousand rows, the palindromes account for two fifths of them, and the rows worth something else run to 2,693 distinct values.
A compound of two different games
Every rule the compound theory has survives mixing exactly — the minimum-remoteness rule is right on all 5,184 mixed pairs and all 7,560 triples — and the reason is not that the rules are strong. It is that each of them reads one number per component, and a number does not remember which ruleset produced it. The thing mixing damages is the shortcut a reader carries instead.
Looking for the symmetry
Answering every move with its mirror image wins Cram on a board with both sides even, which is the argument everybody meets. Asked of every connected shape of at most eight squares instead of of thirteen rectangles, it wins twelve — and accounts for a sixth of the second-player wins there are, because 852 of the 1,042 shapes have no symmetry to answer with in the first place.
The patch that generalised
Misère Nim takes a one-line patch: play the normal-play strategy until every heap holds a single counter, then invert. Moore's Nim, where a move may take from up to k heaps at once, takes exactly the same patch with exactly the same modulus — and the two rules disagree on six positions out of 923.
What restores the theorem
Fibonacci Nim breaks the recipe every impartial game is supposed to obey: one number per heap, exclusive-ored, gets a quarter of two-heap sums wrong. Index the recursion on the pair of heap size and cap instead and the recipe is exact on every pair and every triple — and the number a heap of nine carries turns out to be five rather than one.
The rule the symbols follow
Two genus symbols make a third by three lines and no lookup table: the base exclusive-ors, the sum is fickle only when every component is, and the symbol follows. Checked on 252 pairs across nine games it is right on 238 — and the fourteen failures are exactly the fourteen pairs with a wild heap in them, which is the boundary the genus is defined up to arriving as a measurement.
The question in the middle
Between knowing who wins each part and knowing what each part is worth sits the question a player actually has: who wins the board. Priced on sums of two it lands between the other two on seven of eight, cheaper than the values by up to eight times. On sums of three, with nothing repeated, it is dearer than the values on five of six — because a component multiplies a search and only adds to a value.
The cheapest way to show a value
Eleven thousand positions from fifteen rulesets reach 1,193 values, and for each of them there is a smallest board that shows it. Set against the birthday the two measures agree hardly at all — until the numbers are taken out, at which point they agree rather well, and the whole apparent independence turns out to be a fact about integers.
The rows that are their own mirror
Four hundred and ten End-Nim rows are worth nimbers and 168 of them are palindromes, so a condition covering the other 242 was outstanding. It is that the row is equal to its own negative — and on this game that condition is not merely sufficient but exact, which is more than the group law promises and is a fact about End-Nim rather than about games.
The symmetry one move away
A pairing argument proves the second player wins and names no move to do it with. Asked of every shape of up to eight squares it settles twelve boards. Asked one move later — can the first player reach a position a half-turn pairs? — it settles 288, and which boards those are is decided by parity before anything about their outline is looked at.
How often a board falls apart
A decomposition turns a product into a sum, so a solver wants to know how often one arrives. Over every position of a 4 × 4 Domineering board the answer is 47 per cent — nought for the first two moves, three fifths in the middle, and nought again at the end. What one decomposition is worth is the other half of the answer and it is a factor of 1.8.
A code that climbs by three
Five hexadecimal codes were known to repeat with a constant added, and every one of the five constants was a power of two — either a fact about exclusive-or or a coincidence over five cases. Sweeping all 255 two-digit codes settles it: seventy-one climb, seventy of them by 1, 2, 4 or 16, and one by three. The exception is ·3f, whose values are 3⌊n/6⌋ + (n mod 3) on every heap to twelve hundred.
The rule a smaller move breaks
Moore's Nim lets a player take from at most k heaps, and its winning condition is the binary columns summed modulo k + 1. Cap the amount as well and the obvious repair — reduce each heap modulo the cap plus one, then read the columns — is exact at every cap when k is one and wrong at every cap when k is two or three. The reason is stronger than a broken rule: at k ≥ 2 the residues do not determine the outcome at all, so nothing of that shape can work.
When the catalogue starts paying
The rung below priced two questions — who wins one board, and what it is worth — and named the third: a program pays for a family of regions once and answers every board over them by addition. The crossover is between five boards and two hundred, depending on how far the catalogue reaches, and it falls as the board grows. The whole catalogue of every region to eight squares costs one part in seventy-six of one undecomposed five-by-five board.
The wider move is the easier game
An earlier essay ruled out every rule that reduces the heaps and reads the residues, and asked for a two-part statistic: the residues plus one more count. Four second parts are tested here and none of them decides. What turns up instead contradicts the premise the request was made under — a move that may reach three heaps is more predictable than one that may reach two, on every cap, every candidate rule, and after the change in the base rate is taken out.
What a strategy has to remember
A value answers who wins and by how much, and it settles neither how many moves achieve it nor whether the best one is unique. Counted over every position reachable inside the catalogue of regions, the gap has a size: 4,269 positions carry 128 values between them, and a player who wants to win rather than to predict has to store 3,308 choices — twenty-six entries for every number the theory supplies.
The third digit
The rung below found 71 of the 255 two-digit hexadecimal codes repeating with a constant added rather than exactly, and asked whether the same share holds one digit wider. It rises. Of the 4,095 three-digit codes, 1,433 climb and 617 repeat exactly — seven in ten of the settled ones — so a saltus is the ordinary way a hexadecimal game settles and the exact repetition the octal survey was built to find is the special case.
Where to stop building
The rung below priced a catalogue of small regions against the search it replaces and found the crossover. What it could not say is how far to build, and the coverage answers that: going from four squares of reach to ten multiplies the catalogue by 860 and lifts the share of regions it answers from 54 per cent to 74. The price of a point of coverage runs from five shapes to five thousand.
A check in front of a search
The rung below found a pairing one move away on 288 of the 767 even first-player shapes, and asked what a solver that tested for one before recursing would save on a real game. On an even Cram board it saves nearly the whole search — a 4 × 5 board takes 17,348 node expansions without the check and one with it — and the depth profile shows why that number flatters: the check settles every winning position at the opening and at the last two moves, and about one in ten in between.
A product against a sum
A company closed under both addition and options licenses a solver to rewrite any subposition, and the rung below found that exactly the nimber groups have both closures. Priced on Cram boards, that licence is the difference between walking a product of position sets and walking their sum — four to twenty-five times on two components, twenty-four to a hundred and sixty-one on three — and it is available to impartial games because their class representative is a heap rather than a form.
A pairing, and the pairing
The rung below repaired the half-turn check and asked whether a reflection would fire where it does not. It does — forty positions of 58,830 on the largest board — and it is sound, and it is worth one node in a thousand to a solver. It can never fire on an empty rectangle at all, which is why the ladder's whole subject is the half turn.
One half multiplies, the other adds
The rung below priced the two halves of a substitution licence on sums of two Cram boards and predicted that the first half's saving would grow with the number of components while the second's would not. It is right, and both halves have closed forms: the component licence saves s^(k−1)/k and the subposition licence k·s over a shape count that never moves.
A pairing that is not a symmetry
Every pairing strategy found so far for these boards is a rigid motion of the square, and the requirement mentions no geometry at all. Searching all 8.8 million fixed-point-free involutions instead of the eight maps more than doubles what a pairing explains — and the smallest new one turns out to be a reflection with its two fixed squares swapped.
The quantity that carried nothing
The rung below proposed predicting a pre-period's length from the saltus and the period. The saltus correlates with it at −0.03, which is nothing; the period correlates at 0.77 with a coefficient of one, so a pre-period is about one period long. The digit that predicts whether there is one predicts nothing at all about how long.
A description, and not a detector
The rung below noticed that the count of shapes attaining the hottest temperature grew across a plateau and collapsed at the step, and proposed it as a way to read a plateau off a single size. The growth is exact — five plateaus, no exception — and the rule is impossible: five orbits precede a rise at seven squares and no rise at eight.
The easy case was not the reason
The rung below found the mobility rule reaching a failure rate of exactly nought near the endgame and named what a proof would need: that a decomposed board's comparable options are ordered by reply count. That statement is false on all five boards, at margins up to two — and split positions go exact two squares of depth before whole ones, so decomposition is the easy case rather than the cause.
A set with three descriptions, and a function with none
Wythoff's cold positions can be written three ways that share no arithmetic — an irrational constant, a greedy rule, a condition on Fibonacci digits — and all three are exact. The same game's Grundy values have no closed form at all. Both facts are about one table, and the gap between them is the subject.
A fraction does not reach
Two Push tails read their prefix when every other tail ignores it, and the previous rung guessed the deciding bit was a shape — whether the prefix's last coin stands alone. The full census says it is a number. The rate changes exactly when the prefix is worth a whole move, and three quarters of a move is not enough.
Three distances too many
The junction descriptor records how far a crossing sits from four ends, and the rung below asked what the value does when one crossing slides along its run. It reads one bit — the offset's parity — and only when the run has odd length. The other three distances reach the value not at all.
Where the numeral stops
A Hackenbush string is a numeral and a tree is a trunk with a forest on it, so the obvious next question is a graph with a cycle in it. Green Hackenbush answers that by fusing the cycle to a point. In blue and red the fusion is right on every three-edge cycle, on fewer than half of the six-edge ones, and the smallest thing it gets wrong has four edges.
A recipe instead of a census
Counting a thousand values in seven dominoes suggests Toppling Dominoes reaches every short game, and a count is not a construction. The obvious construction — lay the two options either side of a Left domino and a Right one — is exact on day one, right on a third of day three, and cannot be applied to nine in ten values at all.
The bend above the top
The chain reading gets three values in 2,403 wrong because it counts bends that the diagram never reaches. Counting only the bends below the position's own temperature fixes all three and breaks none — the first exact reading on this ladder, and it needs one comparison rather than the envelope the rung below expected.
A reduction that reads a graph
The two reductions are defined as deletions from an option list, and the shared form has no option lists — a node is reached from several parents at once. Both restate as rewritings at a node, the rewriting is confluent, and its fixed point is the canonical form. What does not carry over is the sharing: four fifths of the shared nodes need a different answer under different parents.
A second pool, designed differently
One designed pool put the rule's best coefficient between a quarter and a third, and all three board sizes agreed. A second pool, built by the identical greedy criterion from different material, has no cell that is best at every size — so the coefficient is a property of the pool and there is no number to find.
An environment instead of a stack
The guarantee behind playing the hottest component survives one step down a board's sorted temperatures and fails at two. Against a coupon environment as hot as the board it survives all of them — because the rule stops being approximate and starts being optimal, on every sum in the pool built to punish it.
Twenty-six other values
The mex rule accounts for sixty-six of the ninety-six antichains and is silent on the other thirty. Every one of those thirty is worth a self-negative value born by day three — and the same mex, run over that family instead of over the nimbers, is exact on all ninety-six. The nimber rule is this one cut short after its fourth member.
Closing the wild side
The twenty-two wild genus symbols are not closed under addition, and the rung below offered two answers: a monoid nobody had guessed, or no algebra at any size. Neither. Five of the six games with wild heaps close at three or four heaps, with closures of two to five symbols, and the sixth is still growing.
A stopper and how to find one
The class a value theory for loopy games would need is the ones with no infinite alternating run, and the qualifier does the work: seventy-nine of the two hundred and fifty-six two-node loopy games qualify and seventy-two of them have a cycle. Every one has a decided outcome, and under eight tests the seventy-nine collapse to six.
Which games end at which level
Between a game that ends within a computable bound and one that ends with no bound at all there are levels, each corresponding to a strength of induction. This site's games sit at three of them, and which level a game is at is decided by exhibiting its termination measure and checking that every move lowers it.
What it costs to notice a repetition
Folding a 4 × 4 Domineering board by its symmetries takes the table from 5,700 entries to 1,522. It also spends 559,424 square-mappings to work out where each entry goes — seventeen and a half times the entire cost of not folding. The saving has a ceiling of four and the price has no ceiling at all, and knowing which currency each is paid in is the difference between an optimisation and a habit.
The parts are worth nothing and the sum is not
Every chain and every loop in Nimstring, taken alone, has Grundy value nought. So the Sprague–Grundy theorem predicts that every position built from them is worth nought — and ninety-six of the two hundred and seven positions checked here are not. The theorem is not being misapplied; it does not apply, because a capture keeps the turn. What replaces it is smaller and sharper: count the short chains, and one long component of any kind reverses the parity.
A parity with a first exception
Sort every Sylver Coinage position by how many numbers are still unnameable and the game very nearly falls to parity: odd rows are between a fifth and a half positions the mover loses, and the first three even rows hold none at all. The rule has a first counterexample at genus eight, where it is a single position out of sixty-seven, and eleven more at genus ten. It is a tendency wearing away from both ends rather than a law with exceptions.
What computing further has bought
Sprouts has been searched harder and longer than almost any game, and the period-six pattern has survived every extension. This site's own exhaustive search settles three spots; the published results reach forty-seven, and the gap is not a gap in hardware — the gentler of the two measured growth factors puts forty-seven spots at ten to the hundred and twenty-fifth positions. Beside it sits Brussels Sprouts, which has five million positions holding a choice and not one choice that changes who wins.
Three bits of rule
An octal code is three bits a digit. The Grundy sequence it determines costs anywhere from one bit to a hundred and thirty-six — a factor of two hundred and seventy-two across rules that differ by a single digit — or it cannot be written down at all. Of four properties of the rule table tested against that, exactly one holds on every code that never settles: whether a move may leave two non-empty heaps. It is necessary, it is not sufficient, and nine codes carry it and produce answers smaller than their own rules.
Four hundred and seventy steps
The tartan theorem replaces a search with a multiplication. Measured on every grid a brute-force solve can reach, the two agree on all of them — and the ratio doubles with every square added. On the 8 × 8 grid the theorem is normally drawn at, the search would have to value eighteen quintillion arrangements; the theorem needs twenty-six different nimber products, and computing all of them by the rule that defines them looks at four hundred and seventy pairs.
Two clauses and a third question
A component can carry its own rule when two things hold: its moves are a function of what it carries, and a move in it leaves every other component alone. Two rulesets built to fail one clause each are both caught on a named witness. The four real games sort exactly — every one the recipe gets right fails no clause, every one it gets wrong fails one — and the two clauses still miss something, because Fibonacci Nim and a held pass fail the same clause and only one of them can be repaired.
The third point on the curve
Four rungs below this one measure a shared Amazons region's temperature against how far apart its two amazons are, and every one does it on a 3 × 3 board, where the distance can only be 1 or 2. Two points make a direction, not a curve. A 4 × 4 board reaches distance 3 — and cannot be evaluated at all until the regions are cut to five free squares. Restricted that far, the answer is neither a sign that flips nor an oscillation: the rise continues and it is running out, the second step being 36 per cent of the first.
Two ways to count a finished board
Territory scoring and area scoring are both in daily use and they are not variants of one rule. Over seventy-nine small endgames they agree exactly on the thirty-nine with an even number of neutral points and on none of the forty with an odd number — sixteen name a different winner, and twelve are played differently, which is not something a convention is supposed to do.
The second dimension is not the deep end
The rung below says a row of eight reaches every corner of the vocabulary and goes far into none of them, and that the narrowness is a fact about the board. So the obvious next move is a rectangle — and nine squares in a square hold twenty-five values where nine squares in a line hold fifty-eight. The geometry says why before any stone is placed.
The two moves that are not captures
Kōnane begins from a full board and the first two moves lift stones rather than take them, which is the only time in the whole game anybody does. Nothing in the theory of values applies to them, and the choice is not free — on a 3 × 5 board two of Black's eight openings leave a position a whole move worse than the other six, and on a 3 × 3 board none of the five does.
What a pass is worth to a theory
Fifteen of twenty-seven coin rows turn out to be ones where having the move is a disadvantage, and those are exactly the rows Milnor's mean-value theory has to assume away. Allow a pass and the hypothesis stops being a hypothesis — nought violations, on every row in range. What it costs is the convention the rest of the theory is built on.
A hypothesis has to hold all the way down
Milnor's bound is proved by induction over the play, so the condition it needs has to hold at every position the play can reach. Checked on the row instead, ninety-two pairs pass the test and twenty-four of them break the bound. Checked at every subposition, twenty-eight pairs pass and none breaks it.
Nothing to subtract with
Comparison is defined by contexts and computed by subtraction, and the equivalence between the two is a theorem about groups. A scoring game is not one — sixty-six of eighty-one coin rows do not cancel against their own negatives — and the difference test then fails on a row compared with itself, which every context accepts and nothing certifies.
The paper was about how long
Zermelo's 1913 paper is remembered for a theorem it proves in passing. The question it actually asks is how many moves a forced win takes, the answer it can prove is the size of the whole position graph, and the round counter in the procedure is the real answer — a quantity nobody named for another forty years.
What the arithmetic cost in 1956
The rung below ends by respecting a hand computation without pricing it. Priced in the operations a person actually performs, ·137's certificate is 7,919 of them — and the same sweep says ·47's is sixty-three times that, that a splitting move is what makes the cost quadratic, and that seventeen of sixty-four codes have no certificate at any price.
Three complete solutions in nine years
Bouton in 1901, Wythoff in 1907, Moore in 1910 — three airtight solutions of three games, all published before there was any theory of games at all. Asked about each other's games they all fail, and two of them fail by being wrong while one fails by having no form for the question. Only the last kind of failure decides anything.
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 sentence that solved the other convention
Bouton's paper solves misère Nim too, in one line, and it is the only misère result in the subject that fits on one. Transplanted the way the normal criterion is, it fails differently — the normal one calls losses wins and never the reverse, and this one errs in both directions on every game tried, because the clause it adds is about counters rather than about moves.
The first move is a link that is not there
Lehman's criterion answers one question about a switching game — who wins when Short moves second. The other question has the same answer asked of a different graph: add one link from A to B, and Cut is forced to spend its first move deleting it. The trees of that larger graph then name Short's opening, and on every subgraph of seven graphs they name a winner.
Cut is Short on another graph
Everything proved about the switching game is proved from Short's side, and Cut appears only as the player whose moves get enumerated. On a graph drawn without crossings Cut does not need a theory of its own: deleting a link is securing the link that crosses it in the dual, so Cut's game is Short's game on a different graph. Bridg-It is the board that is its own dual — one link short of two trees at every size, which is why its first player wins.
A point with three neighbours
The switching game on links is settled by counting — enough links, arranged as two trees. Played on points instead, it is the game Hex belongs to, and the count is gone. The link game turns out to be the point game in which every contested point has exactly two neighbours; give one a third, and two graphs with the same points, the same links and the same number of separate routes can have opposite winners.
Where the needle has a sentence
Strategy stealing proves the first player wins every Chomp bar and names no square to take. On two families the square can be said in a sentence — a square bar and a bar two rows deep — and in both the sentence is a pairing that names every later move too. Three rows deep the needle wanders, and the observation that every bar has exactly one needle survives ninety-four rectangles and fails on the ninety-fifth.
A board one column wider
Strategy stealing proves the first player wins Hex, and it needs three things: no draws, an extra stone never hurting, and rules that treat the two players alike. Add one column to the board and the third goes. The player whose edges are now nearer together wins whoever moves first — and does it with a table of pairs that names every reply, checked against every line to a board of twenty cells.
Every move closes the largest gap
A census of Sylver Coinage by genus finds a parity that nearly decides the game and asks whether any known property of a numerical semigroup predicts the outcome. One does, completely: a semigroup whose gaps pair off around the largest one is never lost for the player to move — none of 583 up to genus sixteen. The reason is strategy stealing, and it is the same reason the top-right square decides Chomp: every move from such a position closes the largest gap.
What the play keeps coming back to
A draw is what the backward labelling never reaches, and handing every never-ending play to one player turns the draws into wins wholesale. Judge an infinite play instead by what it keeps returning to, and every draw gets a winner of its own: over the 262,144 three-node games, 15,432 send some of their draws to one player and some to the other, which no wholesale rule can do. Finding those winners takes a fixed point inside a fixed point.
One bit of memory
Judge an infinite play by whether one position keeps recurring and every winner can play from a table of one move per position, with nothing remembered. Ask for two positions to keep recurring and that stops being true. At a hub with two spokes a player has to alternate, and a table cannot alternate: over every three-node game, 49,487 position-and-mover pairs are won with one bit of memory and lost without it.
The order a solver tries the moves in
A memoised search asking who wins 4 × 5 Domineering expands 1,125 positions when it tries first the move that leaves the opponent fewest replies, and 30,202 when it tries losing moves first — the same answer at twenty-seven times the price. The ordering that already knows which moves win is not the cheapest. A win needs one move and a loss needs all of them, so the price of an order is paid one level down, in the replies it leaves.
A verdict that changes with the depth
A who-wins search of 4 × 5 Domineering cut at a fixed depth, guessing that the player with more placements wins where it stops, is right about 72.5 per cent of positions at depth 0 and about every one of them by depth 7. On the way, 4,697 positions are right at one depth and wrong at a deeper one. With a guess that knows nothing, going one move deeper makes the search worse — and its errors alternate in kind with the parity of the depth, so that half its verdicts are proofs.
A key shorter than the position
A who-wins table for 4 × 5 Domineering addressed by a 16-bit Zobrist key stores a wrong verdict in 59 runs of 60 and names the wrong winner of the empty board in 19. The pairs of positions sharing a key follow the birthday count exactly while addresses are scarce, and fall away to nothing once the key has more bits than the board has squares, because a Zobrist key is linear. Symmetry and value identify positions that really are the same; a short key identifies positions that differ, at a rate set by arithmetic.
Where a search may stop
A search deepened until two consecutive depths agree carries a proof of its verdict, and on 4 × 5 Domineering it stops before the longest line on 17,589 of 48,670 positions. It also costs three times what the search that simply finishes costs. The rule that pays is the other one. Search on wherever the two players' counts of placements are within one, and at depth 2 the wrong verdicts fall from 2,140 to 86 for about a quarter more work per search.
A check bit halves the average and not the key
Real transposition tables keep a few of a key's bits beside each verdict and trust an entry only when they match. On 4 × 5 Domineering each such check bit halves the average number of wrong verdicts, exactly as the birthday count says. It does not halve any one key's. A Zobrist key confuses positions in families — every pair that differs on one set of squares whose words cancel — and a bit removes a family whole or not at all, so from eighteen bits to nineteen thirty of fifty-eight keys lose every confusion and fourteen keep every one.
Using up the edges instead
Undirected geography is decided by a maximum matching when a move uses up the vertex it leaves. Use up the edge it crosses instead and the matching is exact on every tree — on a tree the two games are one game — and on nothing else. Over every connected graph on up to six vertices it names the winner at 480 of 745 starts once there is a cycle, it gets a four-cycle wrong from every start, and the more cycles a graph has, the more of its misses are wins that are really losses.
The capture that has to be made
Dawson's chess is quoted as the octal game ·137, and the step from a pawn diagram to a row of counters has been taken on trust. Searched as a chess position, the diagram agrees with ·137 on every board from one file to twelve, under both endings, and every exchange it can start is an odd number of moves that lands on one of ·137's options. The whole reduction rests on one rule of the diagram that the octal code never mentions: a capture, when one is available, must be made. Make it optional and the winner changes on two, three, six and seven files.
A potential that names every move
Strategy stealing names no move, and the pairings that do name moves need a board with the right symmetry. The Erdős–Selfridge potential needs neither: Down, moving second in Hex, takes the empty cell through which Across's unfinished chains weigh most. Its guarantee reaches only boards two rows deep. It wins far past the guarantee — on every board of three rows that Down can win — and then, on a four-by-five board that a table of pairs wins for Down with certainty, it answers Across's first stone in a different cell and loses along the bottom edge.
The pairing removes moves it cannot name
Symmetric positions were settled by an argument that names a winner and no move. Turned on the moves instead, the same one-pass test strikes off 27,215 of the 159,728 moves in the census and not one of the 21,234 winning ones — a quarter of a full search — and still names nothing. On 583 paired positions nine arithmetic descriptions of the winning gap reach at most 123, and 367 of those positions have exactly one winning move.
A wall the pawns cannot cross and the rule can
Two rows of Dawson's diagram separated by a file with no pawn on it: 1,616 moves were examined and not one crosses the gap. With captures optional the rows add on every diagram checked. With captures compulsory they do not, because the compulsion is a rule about the whole board — and the game that is a sum is the one ·137 does not describe.
The rule decides who has to remember
Whether a winner needs memory is a property of the winning condition and not of the board, and the property everybody reaches for is the wrong one. Of the 128 conditions on which of three positions a play keeps returning to, 32 demand memory and 19 of those are closed under union. What separates them is measured two independent ways and the two agree on all 128: a condition needs no memory exactly when it can be rewritten as a number on each position.
Two graphs a rule cannot tell apart
The repair proposed for the matching criterion was to read the cycle as well. Over every connected graph with exactly one cycle up to six vertices — 21 graphs, 114 starts — eleven such rules reach at most 91, and the winner is not a function of the matching, the cycle's length, the start's distance from it, its degree and the edge count together: six cells of that table hold both verdicts, the smallest a pair of five-edge graphs.
The winning reply is the fourth choice
The repair proposed for the potential was to weigh an edge chain more heavily. Fifty-five weightings later, none holds the four-by-five board, and an edge bonus costs Down four boards it was already holding. The reason is not the numbers: over 393,660 turns of the pairing that does hold that board, the potential would take the same cell 26.1% of the time, and the winning cell is its 3.7th choice on average and as low as its seventeenth.
The bound names the hottest part and the cost does not
Moving in the hottest component costs at most the largest temperature on the board, and that bound is attained: 100 lines of 4,240 pay exactly it. It is still the wrong quantity. Across four pools and boards of two, three and four parts the cost is nothing on 90.8% of lines and otherwise takes one of two values — half a point or one — on boards whose largest temperature runs to three, and it exceeds the coolest component on 13 lines and twice it on none.
A difference the rows cannot predict
The diagrams that are not the sum of their rows have been counted and never priced. Priced over 50 diagrams and 63,408,981 positions, the difference takes three values and is a function of nothing a reader can see: seven diagrams whose rows are worth ∗ and ∗ split five to two on it, the third value arrives only at the ninth file, and the one rule that survives is a parity — all twenty-one diagrams of three, five and seven rows add, and every failure carries an even number of rows.
Two things to hold at once, or three
Whether a condition makes a winner remember has been settled over every condition on three positions; how much it makes them remember has not. A tree built out of the condition alone, with no board in it anywhere, prices all 128: sixty-one cost nothing, fifty-eight cost two states and nine cost three. It also names the property that was nearly right — closure under union of the sets a condition rejects decides it exactly, where being writable as numbers is sufficient and reaches twenty-six.
A shortlist with nothing at the top
The one-pass test leaves 9.58 moves of 12.27 and names none of them. Seven quantities a scan could compute about the survivors were turned into orders and scored on 583 positions: the best puts a winning move first on 24.9% against 22.3% by chance, and every one of the seven places the winner deeper in its order than chance does. Read as sieves instead, the gentlest keeps half the list and throws the only winner away on 264 positions.
The cheap fights make the rule cheaper
A conjecture stands that playing the hottest part costs at most the coolest temperature times the number of parts sharing it — proposed on a range where that number never exceeds two. Swept to five-part boards over 10,410 lines it is false, and false the other way round: every line costing more than the coolest part has one or two parts at that temperature, and over the 3,230 lines with three or more, not one does.
The restriction that buys the most
Four candidate classes of scoring game, scored on the same two families and the same three questions. The class everyone expects to be tiny — the rows that cancel against their own negatives — is empty on rows of three and the widest restriction on rows of four, where it holds fifteen rows against the hereditary class's twelve and gets all 225 of its comparisons right against 108 of 144. The trade everyone expected does not exist.
A key is a code, and two squares come free
The families of positions a Zobrist key confuses are the words of a binary linear code — the sets of squares whose words cancel — so choosing a key is choosing a code. On 4 × 5 Domineering the textbook choice, a code with the largest minimum distance, confuses more stored positions than a random key at fourteen, sixteen and nineteen bits. The choice that reads the board confuses none at eighteen: two squares of one shade, in rows of different parity, are decided by the other eighteen, and no seventeen-bit key is exact.
Search on in pairs of moves
Deepening until two depths agree gives a proved verdict, and searching on where the counts are close gives a better one; put together the obvious way, they stop on a wrong verdict at 3,231 positions of 4 × 5 Domineering. A guess one move past the cut has the other player to move and flatters the wrong side. Searching on two moves at a time keeps the proof, and the window that suits it is one-sided — but however it is widened, the certificate gets cheaper only by turning into the search that finishes, and on four boards it never gets below it.
A move whose every reply is struck
Read two moves at a time, the Sylver Coinage shortlist is no better ordered than read one at a time: preferring the survivor that leaves the opponent the fewest surviving replies puts a winner first on 24.7% of 583 positions against 22.3% by chance, and places it deeper than chance does. Read as a proof, the same count does what no order could. On 57 positions a survivor leaves no surviving reply at all, and wins by a certificate a few lines long; searched deeper, the survivors prove every position by thirteen moves — at a price that is never below the search that simply finishes.
Twelve turns, and three different prices
The earlier essay prices a universal quantifier at a doubling and leaves it there. Twelve turns with six of them the opponent's cost 6, 63 or 384 decisions to write down, depending on nothing but the order the turns come in — and the cheap arrangements are cheap for only one of the two players. What a claim costs is the number of times the choosing changes hands.
Eleven moves and one decision
A prefix has one quantifier a turn, so a game of eleven moves is eleven alternations. Counted on the boards themselves, a Toads and Frogs strip of eleven moves has twenty-six turns with exactly one move available and one turn anywhere at which the choice changes the answer; a Clobber board has a hundred and fourteen turns and none. Nim, the game everybody calls solved, decides at four turns in five.
Proving a loss means answering everything
A win is established by one move and a loss by every move, so the two verdicts are certified by objects of different shapes. Measured over every position of four games, a loss costs between 1.07 and 2.31 times a win — a small constant, never an exponential. The obvious explanation is the branching and it is wrong: Nim answers six options at a losing turn and pays 2.18, not six.
The opponent stops choosing
Replace one player by a rule with no search in it and the question has one chooser left, which is a puzzle rather than a game. Nim recovers five of its six lost positions that way, and six of seven on three heaps of five. Domineering recovers six of a hundred and twenty-two while the fixed rule throws away a winning move eighty-eight times, and one Clobber board recovers none at all — because on that board no rule can misplay.
A turn is not a bit
The prefix a game is read as gives each player one quantifier a turn, and a turn on a board is a choice among however many moves there are. Nim on heaps of 3, 4 and 5 lasts twelve moves and carries 23.6 bits of choice; a Toads and Frogs strip lasts eleven and carries two. Corrected for that, the model predicts a strategy 539 times too large on one board and 67 times too small on another, and the two failures have different causes.
The auction never gets to the money
The critical fraction is computed and never played. Played out with a countable pool of chips — twelve positions, four pool sizes, every split of the chips, every bid answered — the verdict does not move with the money on a single one of the forty-eight sweeps, and the rule for equal bids settles all forty-eight. The reason is one line long: declining every auction wins, and bidding nothing declines.
A coin needs no tie-break
The same recursion has a second derivation: a fair coin decides who moves at each turn, a player whose turn it is with no move has lost, and both play to win. Written from those rules it comes out identical on every position — and it needs no rule for equal bids, because there are no bids. The number is a probability, it belongs to Left rather than Right, and the empty position is the one where the coin decides everything.
Left always wins, and loses more often than not
Alternating play answers with one of four classes and the coin answers with a chance, and the two do not have to agree. Over the twenty-two values born by day two they never disagree and the margin is exactly nothing — the lowest chance on a position Left wins whoever moves is a half. Over the 1,474 born by day three, seven of them sit at seven sixteenths, and seven mirror them on the other side.
Every chance but a certainty
The coin's number lands on a grid of dyadic fractions, and which points of that grid arrive is a count rather than a guess. Over the 1,474 values born by day three it reaches every one of the fifteen interior sixteenths and neither end — no position is ever certain. The groups sharing a chance run 1, 2, 4, 8 on the small pool, which looks like doubling, and 1, 2, 4, 20 on the large one, which is not.
The coldest position has the biggest swing
How much a flip is worth is the gap between the coin's two branches, and it is a rival to the temperature — both answer how much is at stake. They disagree at once: the empty position has the lowest temperature there is and a swing of one, twice the hottest thing born on day two. On the small pool the two quantities look like a perfect three-way correspondence, and 255 of day three's values break it.
The best chance is the wrong move
Maximising a probability and denying an opponent a reply are different objectives, and on 189 of the 904 day-three positions where Left has a choice and a winning move, the option the coin prefers is one that loses the alternating game outright. The smallest case is two options and one line of arithmetic: five eighths beats a half, and a half is the move that wins.
The endgame theory arrives late
Every component the chain-and-loop theory names has coins of degree two, so a position it can read is one where every surviving coin holds exactly two strings. Over a six-box board that is 1,033 of the 28,028 positions with no free box on the table — 3.7 per cent — and more than half of them only after twelve of the board's seventeen strings have been cut.
A thousand positions and no exception
The parity law was fitted to constructed bags of chains and loops inside a string budget. A board's positions are a different population — the sizes are what the geometry allows, the components come correlated, and a six-box board holds exactly one position that is a loop of six. Tested on all 1,032 of them and all 160 of the four-box board's, the law is right every time, against a verdict computed from the strings by a walk that has never heard of a component.
A coin with three strings is worth something
Every chain and every loop is worth nought on its own, whatever its size, and that is exactly what makes their nim-sum useless. A coin with three strings on it is worth nought, one, two or three depending on its arms — 31 of the 35 measured are not nought, and the four that are are the ones whose arms are all long. A coin with four strings is back to nought every time.
Four boxes for every chain after the first
Nimstring answers who is forced to open and says nothing about the score. The margin has a formula: the controller nets the total less four boxes for every long chain after the first — two surrendered and two not taken, each time control is kept. Checked against the solver on 175 endgames it is exact on 172, never too generous, and exact wherever it promises the controller anything at all. The three it misses are the three where it promises nothing.
Two and four are not conventions
Declining costs two boxes on a chain and four on a loop, and those numbers are read off the geometry rather than chosen: one cut completes the last two boxes of a chain and two cuts complete the last four of a loop. Solved again with the fee changed, 418 endgames give a different winner on up to a third of themselves — so the endgame's law is a law about the fee as much as about the shapes, and the fee is not a free parameter.
The step nobody took for thirty-four years
Bouton's criterion is that the heap sizes exclusive-or to nothing. The 1935 theorem is that the heap Grundy values do. The exclusive-or is the same operation in both and it is his, so the whole of the intervening thirty-four years is one substitution — and run over eight games and 672 positions, the substituted criterion is exact on every one while the original is exact on Nim and nowhere else.
The picture Bouton's proof leaves behind
His argument is two closure properties of one set, and the Sprague–Grundy theorem is the same two sentences with nought replaced by a variable — checked here on five games and every value in range, with no move staying inside a class and no class failing to be reachable from above. What the argument also leaves behind is a picture in which the values descend, and that is false: 99 of 444 moves here raise a value, and none of them is in Nim.
Four thousand nine hundred regions with no name
Two positions give 256 regions and ten names cover every side of all of them. Three positions give 262,144 graphs, 110,934 genuine loopy regions — and 4,931 of those have a side that no name in the two-position vocabulary reproduces, with 3,990 of them named on one side and blank on the other. The count the earlier essay left open comes back in the affirmative.
The names are not built out of the old ones
The guess was that a three-position region's missing names would be sums of two loopy ones — on plus over, and that family. Built and tried, every pair of the six stoppers covers none of the 4,931 regions that need one, and so does every two-position stopper there is, all seventy-nine of them with small games added. Thirteen names have to be invented, and forty-eight cover the whole census against ten at two positions.
One split is enough
A heap of n in Lasker's Nim offers ⌊n/2⌋ ways to split, and the values use at most one of them. Allow only the split that takes a single counter off and every heap to six hundred keeps its value; of all sixty-three sets of split sizes up to six, a set keeps the formula exactly when it contains 1 or 2. Equal halves alone give back plain Nim, because a split into equal parts is a move to nought.
The formula is a limit
Cap the take in Lasker's Nim at k counters and the game is a finite rule table, 4.33…3, whose Grundy sequence repeats with period k + 1 rounded up to even and follows Lasker's formula until the cap bites. The formula is what those periods converge to. And the same column of codes, with a free split in front, holds Kayles itself: the rule 4.4 on a heap of n + 1 is Kayles on a row of n.
Three heaps and a pass
Nim with a single pass that may not end the game is easy on one heap and on two: a heap swaps each odd size with the even one above it, and two heaps lose exactly at (2k − 1, 2k). On three heaps the losses are known only as a list. Fix the smallest heap and each slice of the list settles into a pattern after an irregular start — period 4, 8, 10, then 160 at a smallest heap of ten, and nothing visible from eleven.
What a component would have to carry
For a held pass to be decided by a summary of each component, the summary must separate every pair of components some company tells apart. The Grundy value does not — Nim 1 and Kayles 8 are equal games that a held pass separates beside a single Nim heap of two. Nor does the Grundy value with the component's own held-pass value: Kayles 3 and Kayles 6 agree on both and are split by a company of two Nim heaps. Over twenty-four components, fifteen classes against fourteen pairs, and the gap widens as the pool grows.
Cancelling is not pairing
The coin rows that cancel against their own negatives looked like the rows whose coins pair off as nested equal pairs, and on rows of four they are exactly those. From six coins the description fails in both directions — twenty rows pair off perfectly and do not cancel, and one coin set has a hundred and thirty-six that cancel with no pairing at all — and a row of five coins cancels, though an odd row can never pair off. What does hold, on every row swept, is that the first player in a row plus its negative never finishes behind.
A cancelling pair is a zero
Two cancelling coin rows side by side cancel against their two negatives — all 190 pairs from rows of two, four and five coins, the odd row that cancels without pairing off included. And a cancelling row beside its negative is invisible next to any other row: in 741 tests against every row of one to three coins, neither score of the context moves. A non-cancelling pair moves a score in 452 of 780. Scoring games have no inverses in general; this class has them, and they behave as inverses must.
Even rows always reward the move
Milnor's mean-value theory needs an incentive to move — the player to move must do at least as well as if the opponent moved first. On a coin row with an even number of coins that is not a hypothesis but a theorem: the first player can collect one whole parity class of coins, and one of the two classes holds at least half the total. So the condition excludes no even row whatever the coins, the class the earlier table called 'incentive at the top' was every row of four, and the hereditary condition is a condition on odd intervals alone.
A misère sum is searched, not added
Under normal play the outcome of a sum of heaps is a nim-sum of numbers already known: twenty stored values decide every sum of Dawson's chess with heaps up to nine, however many heaps it has. Under misère play each sum is a new position to search. One outcome costs six positions for a single heap, two hundred for four heaps and over five thousand for eight, and a table of every eight-heap outcome costs a hundred thousand. The misère quotient is the only thing that brings the price back down.
Two heaps of testing are enough
A misère quotient is computed by testing positions against positions, and the universe used to find twelve classes of Dawson's chess was every position of up to four heaps tested against every other — 511,225 outcomes. Varied one size at a time, the count stops growing at tests of two heaps and positions of three: 12,100 outcomes find the same twelve classes. The narrower universe the earlier essay drew did not merge anything; it held fewer positions. And the corner that is enough moves: for Kayles at heap twelve, two-heap tests miss a class.
Twelve classes, seven questions
Twelve misère classes of Dawson's chess were found by testing 715 positions against 715 others. Seven of those tests are enough to tell every class from every other — a greedy choice against a floor of four, since each test is one yes-or-no question. Kayles needs nine of 715 and Nim sixteen. The seven cost almost nothing to use and cannot be found without the whole closure, and they do not carry: the tests found with heaps up to seven tell apart only seven of the twelve classes with heaps up to nine.
A staircase, not a slope
With the misère closure cut forty-fold, Dawson's chess can be classified at heaps far beyond nine. The count of classes is a staircase: six from heap three to eight, twelve from nine to twelve, seventeen from thirteen to sixteen. Normal play steps once in that range, from four to eight at heap thirteen, where a Grundy value of four first appears. Misère play steps there too, and once more at heap nine, where normal play does not move at all — the first wild heap. Heaps eleven, fifteen and sixteen are also wild and move nothing.
Four positions, sampled
Ten names write both sides of every loopy region of two positions, and forty-eight every region of three. Four positions are over four billion graphs and cannot be counted, but they can be drawn. Three thousand regions at each of three densities: the forty-eight names cover between 95.9 and 99.5 per cent, the thirteen names invented for three positions come back at four almost all of them, and the sparsest sample meets thirty-five sides nothing earlier reproduces — a floor of eighty-three names, and a curve that grows by accretion rather than collapse.
The cheapest fight is not the yardstick
Hottest-first play was found to cost at most twice the coolest temperature on the board, on pools whose coolest parts sat at a quarter or a half. Put a fight worth an eighth on the board and the rule costs seven times it. On one board the cost falls as the cool part warms, which is the opposite of a bound in the coolest. The number that holds on all 14,946 lines of seven pools is the second-largest temperature.
Cram with the last move losing
Under misère play every Cram rectangle to twenty squares is tame at the start except 3 × 6 and 4 × 5, and twelve of the fifteen boards two rows deep behave like one counter or none. The pairing that settles even boards under normal play hands the misère game to the first player, who wins by any vertical domino. And the tame boards are not tame inside: wild positions appear on boards as small as 3 × 4, always at ten empty squares, the length at which the strip goes wild.
The same parts, different wholes
Equality is worth having because equal parts make equal wholes: a game may be replaced by an equal one inside any sum and any larger position. The relation that 184 contexts define — no context tells the two apart — is exact on day three and merges a third of a sample of day four. Put 567 of its merged pairs through negation, addition and forming options, and it survives two of the three. Adding the same game to both separates them 1,527 times.
A different question at every depth
A Sylver Coinage proof that deepens over survivors was never cheaper than the search that skips struck moves and finishes. Keep everything it proves and refutes and it gets cheaper — 41 per cent at twenty gaps, and more when the opponent's positions are kept too — and it is still never cheaper, on any of 1,766 positions, and the gap widens with the gaps. Told the right depth in advance it wins on seven. The finishing search asks one question of a position; a proof asks a different one at every depth.
Three pairings and no order
The potential lost four-by-five Hex for Down, and fifty-five re-weightings lost it too, which left the question whether anything that orders the cells can hold the board. The plainest ordering — one fixed list, whatever the position — holds none of the boards the pairing is known for, and on four by five the best it can do is the left column. At the other end, every table of replies that wins a small board is a pairing, and four by five has exactly three pairings, each using all twenty cells.
A rare class exclusive-or respects
The rare values of ·007 were measured by rank — everything outside the twenty-two commonest — and found getting commoner. A sparse-space argument needs a different split: a rare class closed under nothing and a common class closed under exclusive-or, which is to say a parity of bits. Over every parity of every bit, ·007 and ·6 have no class that thins. Across the 79 growing octal codes of up to three digits, one does: ·354, whose odd values fall from 288 in its first two thousand heaps to seven in its last ten thousand.
What survives a coalition
Three-player Nim has no winner without a convention and no sum theory at all. Fix one player against the other two and both come back: every position has a winner, the winner is read off the number of heaps of one modulo three and the number of larger heaps, and forty-five positions fall into six interchangeable classes — fewer than Nim's sixteen. Fix a scoring rule instead and the winner comes back, identical to one of the conventions, and nothing else does: no two positions are interchangeable.
Each size is built from the last
At three positions the sides that needed new names were sums of nothing older: no pair of stoppers, and no two-position stopper with a small game beside it, wrote any of them. At four positions the thirteen names three positions forced are available as parts, and they change the answer. Of the fifty sides the samples met that nothing earlier names, twenty-three are sums of two earlier games — fifteen of them using a three-position name — and twenty-seven are not.
One value more than Nim
Top Entails broke the nim-sum: nine of thirty-six two-heap positions came out wrong when a move could compel the reply. The repair is one extra value. Read each heap off the heap itself, and every heap of Top Entails and of a second entailing game is either a nimber or loony — a win for the mover in any company. One rule then decides every sum of those games and Nim together: 4,016 positions, and it is never wrong. A loony heap is a pass, and the compulsion is what buys it.
What a part would have to report
Outcome classes leave four entries of the addition table open. Give each part its two stops as well and four inequalities settle 176 of the 369 open day-two sums, never wrongly — and every sum they leave has a bound sitting exactly on nought. Used as a lookup table instead, even the whole thermograph with the outcome beside it leaves 96 sums undecided. Four outcomes do what no thermograph can: who wins a day-two position alone, beside −1, beside 1 and beside a star names it, and no three questions do.
The table closes, until heaps of four
Classes that no company can tell apart always combine, so the question left by the held pass is not whether it has an algebra but whether the algebra is finite. Computed the way a misère quotient is, it is: four classes for heaps of one where misère play needs two, eleven for heaps up to two, fourteen up to three, nineteen for Kayles rows up to five. Admit Nim heaps of four and the table never closes — a single line of losses, 2k + 3 heaps of two beside 2k heaps of four, gives every count of twos a class of its own. And at the bottom of every closed table sits the normal-play group, with the loss moved to nim-sum one: on a crowded board the held pass is a heap of one.
The pairs are read from the bottom bits
Some matching of Welter's coins reads the position's value, and usually only one does — but which? The rule is short: pair the two coins whose squares agree in the most low-order bits, and repeat. It reads the value on every one of 3,696 positions of two to eight coins, where no other natural rule manages half. And it has a proof two lines long, because x − 1 flips a number's trailing bits, so a pair's animating value depends on where its squares part on the binary trie read from the bottom. What it is not is a strategy: a move from a lost position can be answered inside its pair only two times in five.
Composition at every size
Twenty-seven of the fifty new four-position sides were written by no sum of two earlier games. Sums of three write sixteen of them — seven plain finite games born after day two, nine built on the names three positions forced — and leave eleven, met seventeen times in nine thousand regions. Run the same test one size down and the story the counts told falls apart: eight of the thirteen names three positions were thought to invent are sums of up to three older parts, two of them just two finite values. Every size composes. What each invents is a residue — five, then eleven.
The hotter residue survives
Charge a hot position its own temperature and subtract its mean, and an infinitesimal is left — its residue. Add two hot positions and the means add, the temperatures do not, and the residues do something stranger than either: on every one of 4,712 pairs whose parts differ in temperature, the residue of the sum is the hotter part's residue and nothing of the colder's. Cooling is additive, and a part cooled past its own temperature is a bare number. Residues add only when two parts are exactly as hot, and even then the fights usually cancel into something colder. The summary forgets; the game does not.
A proof inside a budget
A certificate — two depths of search that agree — was always dearer than the search that finishes, but that compared proofs with answers. Its whole purpose is the board where nothing finishes, so the fair test is a budget: cap the positions a search may expand and count the proved verdicts each method returns inside the cap. On a thousand deep positions of 4 × 5 Domineering, the search that finishes proves more at every budget from sixteen to eight thousand. The best certificate, with a one-sided two-move window, proves at most three positions finishing cannot, at any budget, and plain deepening proves none. Where deepening earns its keep is the guess it holds while it works, not the proof it ends with.
The seven were the order
A Sylver Coinage proof told its depth beat the search that finishes on seven positions of 1,766, and on all seven the winning move came fifth when moves were tried smallest first. Run both searches under five orders and the seven vanish under every other one; try the largest move first and there are fifty-five new ones instead. Give both searches the winning move first, free, and the proof is cheaper on none. The exceptions were never positions where proving is easy. They were positions where one order made the finishing search stumble — and what is left when the order is perfect is the price of asking a proof's question.
The plays do not say who chose them
Every way a game of edge geography can go is a maximal trail, and the parity of each trail says who moved last. So the list of their lengths ought to decide the game, and over every connected graph to six vertices it nearly does — 780 of 810 starts, 108 of 114 on one cycle, where no rule on the matching and the cycle reached 91. It still fails, and the smallest failure is two trees: the same two plays from each start, and a different player choosing between them. Keep that choice one move at a time and the ambiguity falls from eighteen profiles to seven, one and none. The list costs sixteen times the search.
The price of a tie
The second-largest temperature bounded hottest-first play on 14,946 lines, and the pool that should have broken it puts a threat on top. It does not break: over 2,254 more lines the cost never passes the second temperature and meets it on 97. What the pool finds instead is where the rule goes wrong — one move into the game about as often as at its start — and why. Almost every line that meets the bound is a tie: two parts equally hot and the rule taking the first on the board. Break ties well and the lines meeting it fall from 636 to 51 on the earlier pools, and to none on any board with the threat on top.
A coalition counts to three
Three-player Nim with one player against two collapses to six classes, because every heap of two or more is a store of tempo either side can draw on. Put the same coalition on games whose heaps are not all stores and it does not collapse: subtraction {1, 2} keeps five kinds of heap, Kayles six, subtraction {1, 3} ten and {2, 3} twelve, each count settling as the range grows. Past a threshold the large heaps are interchangeable again — and in every one of the five, unlike Nim, a single large heap hands the game to the coalition. The classes neither refine the two-player values nor coarsen them: {1, 3} has two Grundy values and ten coalition classes.
Two rows still reward the move
A single coin row with an even number of coins always rewards the player to move, because the first player can take a whole parity class. Two such rows side by side break that argument, and the conclusion survives anyway: on every one of 16,380 sums of two rows the first player is never behind, and there is a proof — open the row worth more, then answer in whichever row the opponent moves in — that guarantees the difference of the two rows' margins, which is what two switches would give. The sum meets that floor on three pairs in four and beats it on the rest, once by both margins together. At three rows the switch arithmetic stops being a floor. The incentive does not.
The odd values keep coming
·354 is the one growing octal code of up to three digits whose values have a class that thins: 288 odd values in the first two thousand heaps, seven between ten and twenty thousand, the last of those at 18,908. A sparse-space argument needs that class to stop. Taken to a hundred thousand heaps it does not: 48 more odd values arrive after twenty thousand, every block of ten thousand holds some, and the last in range is at 99,600. They keep no schedule a remainder can see, their gaps are spread like arrivals, and most of them are one number, 37 — each one a heap where every split that could have reached 37 misses it.
The pairs stand still and the order spreads
The share of pairs of game values the order can compare falls from 77.5 per cent on day two to 60 on day three and then stops: built twenty times under two recipes and calibrated, day four sits within two standard errors of day three. That looked like a floor under the order. Measured beyond pairs it is not. Chains of three keep falling, triples with no comparable pair keep rising, and the largest set of mutually confused values in a sample of 120 grows from about 20 to about 30 — every one of forty seeds wider than day three's mean. The floor belongs to one statistic, not to the order it summarises.
No number bounds it
Sylver Coinage cannot be given a termination measure in the natural numbers: from {2} the game can last one move, two, or any number the second player chooses. The measure proposed for it — the gap count beside the number of distinct primes the named numbers share — rises on {4} + 6. Count the primes with their repeats and it falls on every one of 42,519 moves checked, and it is exact: the game tree is ω squared tall, and the height of a position is ω times the prime factors of its gcd plus the gaps that are left.
One square for every coin
Nim's strategy has two halves: every heap has exactly one target, the nim-sum of the others, and the heaps carrying the top bit of the nim-sum are the ones that can reach it. Welter's game keeps the first half on every one of 18,470 coins tried — one square per coin makes the value nought, and the winning moves are the coins above theirs — and the square is found by walking up the binary trie from the value of the other coins. It loses the second half. And at four coins it loses nothing: the losses and the winning moves are Nim's exactly, by a two-line proof, while at six coins no Welter loss is ever a Nim loss, because the last bit of a losing position is a count of pairs.
Units modulo three, and one choice
Nim's rule for one player against two has a shape: count the heaps that always last one move, modulo three, allow one heap that offers a choice, and give any second choice to the coalition. Subtraction {1, 2} has exactly that table — ten classes, nine of them a count of ones against nothing, a two or a three — and so do Kayles, where a heap of three is a heap of two with a unit beside it, and Dawson's Kayles. Subtraction {1, 3} and {2, 3} do not: a board with two choices on it can still be the lone player's, and the short key fails. And {2, 3} and Dawson's Kayles give every heap to ten exactly the same menu of game lengths, so what a coalition reads is not how long a heap can last.
Answer where the opponent played
Most of what hottest-first play costs is the choice between parts equally hot, and a search could make that choice well. Six choices a player could make without searching were scored on all 17,200 lines of eleven pools. Answering where the opponent has just played wins back half of what board order loses, and 95 per cent of it on the pools with a threat on top; preferring a part with a follow-up of one's own wins back a fifth; the two together, 71 per cent. Preferring to deny the opponent a follow-up is worse than taking the first part on the board, and denying only an urgent one takes the combination back down to 52. What is left is mostly at the opening move, where there is nothing yet to answer.
Colder exactly when the residues cancel
Add two fights of one temperature and the sum either stays that hot or grows colder, and which one happens is decided by the smallest thing either fight carries. The sum grows colder exactly when the two residues are negatives of each other — on all 3,142 equally hot pairs from days two and three and 3,000 sampled from day three, and by a two-line argument from cooling's additivity. What survives the cancellation is another matter. Group the colder sums by their parts' thermographs and the survivor differs in every group that holds more than one pair: {1 | 0} and {1 | 0, ∗} draw the same diagram and leave different infinitesimals behind. The diagrams fix only the survivor's temperature: nought, or exactly the lowest bend of either part.
Start at four
Every order a program could compute had made the Sylver Coinage search that finishes dearer than trying the smallest move first, and the free oracle that puts a winning move first costs under a third of it. Two orders a game program would actually use do better: a history table of numbers that have won before wins back 27 per cent of that gap, and a fixed order learned on small positions the same on larger ones. Both are learning one thing. Trying the smallest move first, but from four, wins back 31 per cent and beats smallest first on 1,695 of 1,766 positions — because naming 2 leaves a two-generator semigroup, which is symmetric and never lost for the opponent, unless 3 is already reachable.
A machine that knew one theorem
In 1940 a machine of relays played Nim against the public at the New York World's Fair, on four rows of up to seven lamps, and is reported to have won about nine games in ten. Everything it knew was Bouton's theorem, which is three column parities and one test per row. The record is the interesting number, and it is a measurement of the visitors rather than of the machine: against a visitor choosing at random the machine wins 98.5 per cent, and nine in ten is what a visitor earns by playing perfectly once seven lamps or fewer are lit. On the board the game is usually set up on, a visitor handed the first move cannot win at all.
A current through the board
In the early 1950s Shannon and Moore built a machine that played Hex by wiring the board as a network of resistors and reading its move off the electrical potential. There is no theorem behind that rule, and on every Hex board small enough to solve it can be scored against perfect play. On boards to twelve cells it takes a winning cell on more than 98 per cent of the positions where one exists, far above chance. And it loses: every board of three rows or more it has to defend, and four by four moving first, because an opponent needs only one of the two per cent and can steer the game to it.
Two takes, one line
A subtraction game with two legal takes, a and b, has a Grundy sequence that fits in one sentence: cut the heap's remainder modulo a + b into blocks of a, alternate nought and one, and turn every even block at or past b into a two. The proof is three cases long and holds for every pair. Add a third take and the sentence has no successor — but it does not vanish. The period of a three-take game is a sum of two of its takes six times in seven, which sum is decided by the third take's remainder modulo the first two's period, and the long irregular periods cluster on the one arrangement where the third take is the other two added together.
Pieces that can only come apart
Amazons broke the promise that a board once split stays split, because a moving piece can step diagonally between two regions. Clobber keeps it with no walls at all: a move lifts a stone onto a neighbouring enemy stone, so it empties one square and fills none, and pieces of stones can only shrink. Checked on every move from every position of four boards — 16.3 million moves — not one joins two pieces. The promise holds and is worth less than it sounds. A four-by-four Clobber board is in two live pieces a third of the time, against nearly half for Domineering, and most of what a solver saves comes not from the split but from the stones that no longer have a move.
A circuit asked once
The Hex machine's circuit rule loses every board past two rows that it has to defend, and the strategy that holds those boards is a pairing — a partner for every cell, fixed before the game begins. So make the circuit commit: consult it once per cell on an empty board and never again. Its table answers twelve openings with four cells, and loses every board the running circuit lost. Forced to choose a whole pairing, it picks a losing one under seven of eight ways of reading its scores; the eighth finds the winning pairing of three by four by a margin of rescaling and gives up two by four for it.
The same rule on a star
Kōnane turned out to hold the theory's whole vocabulary, and one old game is an anecdote. Mū tōrere, a Māori game on an eight-pointed star, has the same rule for losing — a player who cannot move loses — and is small enough to solve whole. Of its 630 arrangements, not one is a win for whoever moves first or a loss for whoever must move, sixteen go to each side whoever starts, and most are drawn. A random player still loses it every time. The vocabulary was never in the rule for losing; it was in the captures.
Why cooling has to add
Cooling came through a sweep of 1,768 sums untouched while heating failed 263 times, and the sweep's own account was cautious: cooling is not additive in general, and a richer pool would break it. Aimed exactly where that account said to look — infinitesimals hidden under low temperatures, at taxes of a quarter and a half — 107,816 more pairs break nothing, because there is nothing to break. Cooling distributes over every sum of short games. Its freezing clause fires on one side of the equation and not the other in 6,032 of those pairs, and costs nothing every time, because what it hands back is the mean, and means add.
A repetition is a guess
Read an octal game's values one heap at a time and report the first pattern that fits, and the report is a guess that changes. Over the 291 short octal codes whose period can be proved, the guess is wrong 4,684 times before it settles; on ·45 it changes 181 times, is right from heap 538 and cannot be proved until heap 1,038. No false guess ever reaches the window that would certify it — the furthest gets 74 per cent of the way — and no fixed number of repetitions is a safe substitute, because the window asks for as many as the period's late start requires: two on some codes, twenty-seven on ·45.
A universe grows by days, not by sums
A relation built from a sample of contexts can be repaired two ways: allow sums of more values, or allow values born a day later. On a sample of day four the first stalls — 147 pairs of different games stay merged from five summands to seven, through 25,696 contexts — while the 985 values of day three, a seventh as many, separate every pair. The reason is four lines long: the context that tells two games apart is always minus one of their options.
The colour swap pays through a mirror
A Clobber piece with its colours swapped is the same piece with the players exchanged, so a solver could store one and read the other off by negation. On its own that folds the piece table by about a tenth, because a piece's negative is rarely in the table at all. Beside symmetry it nearly doubles the fold on three boards of four, because on a board with an even side a mirror carries every position to the negative of another. And the opening of every such board is worth its own negative — a theorem from the mirror, not a search.
A pairing is checked, not measured
The Hex machine's circuit chose pairings near the winning ones and never at them, which left a finite question: does any score of a pair of cells, computed from the board alone, have a winning pairing as its best? The obvious scores count the chains a pair shares. All four hold two by three; on three by four the plain count cannot choose between a winning pairing and a losing one, and the corrected counts choose the loser; on four by five every one loses. The reason is arithmetic — a sum will give up one chain to cover two others twice. Told which chains it missed, the count finds the diagonal pairing at one rate in three, and by then it is checking, not measuring.
Two neighbours keep a pairing, three lose it
In the switching game on points, Short wins moving second by a pairing when every smallest set of points that cuts A from B holds both points of some pair. On every graph of seven points — 971,104 of them — every Short win has one, at every degree. In random link games, where each contested point has two neighbours, every win has one too, although the winning strategy follows trees that change as the game goes. The first wins with no pairing appear at nine points with four neighbours and at ten points with three: a cubic graph Short wins whoever moves, which no fixed set of answers explains.
The weights were not the argument
A chain count corrected by its own misses held the four-by-five Hex board with the diagonal pairing, the one pairing there with a sentence behind it, and the hope was that its weights were the sentence in numbers. They are not. One rate in twelve holds the board and one start in twenty; the weights it ends on survive five per cent of noise and not twenty; and weighting exactly the chains the argument relies on finds no winning pairing at all. Told which pairing to prefer, a measurement reaches any of the three in a dozen corrections. What chain weights can do is rule a pairing out, and on three by four they rule out one that wins.
A pairing that changes once
The cubic ten-point graph is a win for Short that no fixed pairing explains, and the full strategy that does explain it is a tree of 68 decisions. One change is enough: after Cut's first deletion Short claims a stated point, and from then on a fixed pairing of what is left holds every cutting set. Four such plans, eight pairs between them, answer every opening. Of the 23 pairless wins in the samples, 21 need one change and two need a second, and in both the second is a forced claim. Unless the hard problems collapse, no fixed number of changes can be enough for every graph.
A heap that loses under both endings
The misère classes of Dawson's chess climb in steps, and the two steps to heap sixteen landed on first appearances: the first wild heap and the first Grundy value of four. Run on to twenty, the count sits at seventeen through heap nineteen and then jumps to twenty-four, on a heap worth nought whose genus is tame. Heap twenty is the first heap that loses for the mover under both endings, it behaves like two Nim heaps of two, and most of what it adds is a new way of telling old positions apart. What every step to twenty shares is a genus no smaller heap has. The search that finds this stops at twenty-one, when the positions it remembers outgrow the table that holds them.
The bonus an integer is owed
Heating fails to distribute over a sum where cooling never does, and the repair proposed for it was to change what its exception returns: heat a number into a switch instead of leaving it alone. Run on the same 1,768 pairs, that repair fails on every one of them, beginning with nought plus nought. What adds is a heating that changes which numbers it exempts and pays the bonus on the moves an integer holds in reserve — Norton's product, and heating with no exception at all, which at a whole-number bonus is the same operator. Given heating's exception, cooling stops adding too.
Two reflections and a corner
Hex boards of n rows and n + 1 columns are won by the player with the nearer edges, by a pairing, and the count of pairings that do it ran two, three, three. It is three again on five by six, against 1,225 chains, and three on six by seven, against 16,097. They are the same three every time, and they are not three strategies: one is the classical reflection, and the other two are a reflection across the board's other diagonal, which joins its two far corners, in two versions that disagree about six cells. Each is a rule a sentence long, and each holds on every board out to ten by eleven.
The teacher's game
A machine that weighs Across's chains could be taught every winning Hex pairing on four by five, and on three by four it could never be taught the one pairing another winner covers chain by chain. Whether anything else could hide from it — a winner covered not by one rival but by a mixture of several — is a question about a game between a teacher choosing weights and a rival choosing pairings, and Jean Ville's 1938 theorem of the alternative, written for von Neumann's games, answers it in general. On five by six and six by seven every winner is taught in sixteen corrections or fewer, and nothing hides at all.
The third take is the other two
A subtraction game whose third take is its first two added together was where the long irregular periods of three-take games clustered, and the question was whether that one arrangement has a formula or is where the formulas stop. It has one. Divide out any common factor and look at the heap one short of the middle take: if it would be a loss when only the smallest take is allowed, the period is the smallest take times twice the middle take plus a remainder, otherwise it is short and the whole sequence is two bands of blocks. The formula gives the exact period of every one of the 3,160 games to eighty.
The rows that cancel
Every one of Dawson's diagrams that failed to be the sum of its rows had an even number of rows, and twenty-one with an odd number all added. One file past the edge of that sweep, four files beside three beside one fails: three rows, worth ∗ against ∗3 by its rows. What the parity was tracking is two deletions a sum allows — a row worth nought, and two identical rows — which the compulsory board turns out to allow as well. Each of 44 diagrams is worth exactly what is left after them, and in the fifty-diagram sweep that remainder happened to have as many rows, odd or even, as the diagram it came from.
Growing is not climbing
The octal codes whose values grow were expected to be arithmetically periodic — repeating with a constant added each period — and to fool a reader with false climbs. Read for that pattern, the 220 octal codes of up to three digits with no certified period produce 246,048 readings in 1,200 heaps and not one holds for more than six periods. The false climbs are exactly as short as on the hexadecimal codes where the climb is real; the difference is that no right reading ever arrives, and the largest values grow more slowly than any constant climb allows.
Two losers that average to a winner
On Hex boards to 6 × 7, a machine that weighs the opponent's winning sets could be taught every winning pairing except one, which another single winner covered. Ville's alternative allowed a second way to be out of reach — covered only by a mixture — and the switching game on points, where winners are many, is where it turns up. None in all graphs of seven points or in 4,000 of eight; 35 covers at nine and ten points. Every one is the even average of two losing pairings, and on six graphs Short wins and no weighting can teach the machine any winning pairing at all.
A compulsion that points elsewhere
Top Entails and entailing Nim are decided by one value more than Nim because the compelled reply stays in the heap that compelled it. Point it at a different heap instead and the two games part company. Entailing Nim does not notice — its heaps are worth exactly what Nim's are, because Nim's winning reply was never in the heap just moved. Top Entails loses its loony heaps and then every value of the Nim kind: no assignment of nimbers explains its sums, because a heap of three beside two heaps of one is a win and beside two heaps of two is a loss.
The solution that was a losing set
In 1944 von Neumann and Morgenstern defined the solution of a game by two conditions on a set of outcomes: none overrules another, and each outcome outside is overruled by one inside. They were writing about coalitions. The same two conditions, read with a move in place of an overruling, describe exactly the lost positions of a game that must end. Where play can loop, the same definition gives several answers or none, and three positions are enough to show both.
An odd cycle is the only way to have none
A cycle of two positions has two stable sets and a cycle of three has none. Moses Richardson proved in 1953 that this is the whole story of absence: a graph with no odd cycle always has a stable set. Run over all 9,608 games on five positions, the theorem holds without exception, sits inside a chain of five nested families, and leaves open the larger question its converse invites, since 7,452 of those games have an odd cycle and a stable set anyway.
What a stable set knows about a draw
On a graph with cycles, outcome labelling calls a position lost, won or drawn, and stops. The stable sets go further in exactly one place. On every game of up to five positions they hold every lost position, no won one, and among the drawn positions are exactly the stable sets of the drawn part taken alone. So a stable set is a certificate that the player who keeps returning to it never gets stuck. It can distinguish draws that labelling cannot, and two parts with no stable set can have one between them.
A stable marriage is a stable set
Draw a graph whose positions are pairs of people, with a move from a pair to any pair one of its members prefers. Its stable sets are exactly the stable marriages, on all 46,656 profiles of three men and three women. So Gale and Shapley's theorem of 1962 is an existence theorem of the kind Richardson's was, on graphs where 49 per cent have odd cycles and his hypothesis is useless. The reason it holds is that every clique in the graph is one person's list, and four roommates show what happens when it is not.
A win is not a way of winning
Solve a lone king against a rook completely and every one of 175,168 positions with white to move is won. Now let white play any move the table says keeps the win, and black resist as long as it can: in 400 games of up to 2,000 moves, white never mates. On a graph that loops, staying won is not progress. From every won position in the queen and rook endings white can stay inside the won set for ever, and what wins is a second number, the distance, which the theory of finite games never had to ask for.
Blocking is not enough
Everybody knows noughts and crosses is a draw, and the usual explanation is that the second player can always block. That explanation is false. Against an opponent who can only block, the first player wins, from the centre or any corner. The game is a draw only because the second player's blocks build threats of their own. On fifteen boards solved outright, it is the only one where those two things come apart: everywhere else a draw is a draw because blocking is enough.
Three ways to know a draw
A draw on a board too large to search has to be certified, and there are two standard certificates: a pairing of cells and the Erdős–Selfridge sum over lines. Set against exhaustive search, both miss 4 × 4, and a rule taken from the sum holds there anyway. The sum looks far stronger until pairs are allowed to serve several lines at once. Then across 440 boards up to 12 × 12, the sum certifies no draw that a pairing does not, and a pairing certifies 36 that the sum cannot.
A win priced in stones
Change the rate of play and a yes-or-no question becomes a number. Against a Maker placing one stone a turn, Breaker needs two stones to stop three in a row on every board up to 4 × 4 and six by three, and three on 5 × 4. Against a Breaker placing one, a Maker needs two stones on most boards drawn at one, and three to make four in a row on 4 × 3. The extra stone is enough to erase noughts and crosses altogether, and the biased sum is exact there and high everywhere else.
How strict a rule can be
A repetition rule can be tightened one notch at a time, and each notch either leaves unending games alive or kills them outright. With two moves a block may not come twice, and every game is over by the fourth letter; relax that by a single letter of overlap and unending games appear. Three moves stop dead at 38 letters under a rule that a whisker's relaxation frees. Four stop at 121. Past each boundary the words go on for ever, and the boundary sits at a fraction nobody would have guessed.
The opponent makes it repeat
Euwe's unending game needs both players to keep to it. Give the letters to two players in turn, with one of them wanting the draw that a repetition brings, and the rule of 1929 fires within seven letters on a plan of one sentence: always play A. The word that defeats the rule exists and nobody can be held to it. Add a third round trip and the same player can no longer force anything in twenty-six letters. Existence and force turn out to be separate questions, with separate boundaries.
What counting positions buys
A rule that counts arrivals at a position ends every game, which the rule of 1929 could not do, and it needs no proof beyond arithmetic: with L arrivals barred on n positions, no game is longer than (L − 1)n − 1 moves. What it does not do is change a single result. Over every game on three and four positions and a sample on five, drawing on the second arrival or the third gives exactly the labels retrograde analysis had before any rule was written. The rule pays for the game's ending and for nothing else.
A rule that cannot see whose turn it is
The stable sets a game hands over work by telling the players apart. Forbid that, and read every board as mine and theirs, and the odd cycles come straight back. On Mū tōrere, with rotations and reflections identified too, the 892 drawn positions fall into 33 kinds, and among those there is exactly one stable set. It names sixteen shapes. A player who always hands the opponent one of them holds the draw against labelled play without knowing a colour, an orientation or an outcome, and the opening itself is one of the sixteen.
An exemption that costs nothing below one
Heating that leaves integers alone fails to add at a bonus of one and adds on everything at a bonus of a half, and the natural guess was that a half is where it starts to go wrong, since that is where a fraction's moves become worth fighting over. It is not. Across twelve bonuses nothing fails at any value below one, and dozens of pairs fail at one exactly. The reason is the simplicity rule: below one, the recursion sends every integer to itself, so the exemption is not doing anything at all.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
CounterexampleDisjunctive sumGrundy valueOutcome classNormal playImpartialEnumerationStrategyTemperatureCanonical formCertificateDecomposition