Shove strips, and what each is worth
A shelf of positions with the value the recursion returns beside each. Every one is a number: Shove has no hot positions at all, which is unusual for a partizan game and is the first of the essay's three claims.
12 essays call
shove-row. The drawing above is what it returns with no arguments at all; every
call below passes it something, because a placement that passes nothing draws whichever
member of the family the generator happens to default to rather than the one its essay argues
about.
The positions it draws
44 distinct positions, harvested by running this generator again at the options each essay passed it.
Where it is called
Changing this generator changes every one of these figures.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
The criterion that cannot exist
The rung below asked for a quantitative version of its condition — turn 'the reading survives mixing three quarters of the time' into a statement about the strip. Three strips of four squares settle it. `.LLR`, `.LRL` and `.RLL` have the same length, the same reading, the same coins and the same single run, and their readings are wrong by 1¼, ¼ and ½. The error is a fact about the order of the colours, and 207 of 805 statistical classes carry more than one of them.
What the class does not buy
Dead-ending is the hypothesis several modern misère results are stated under, and the rung below sorted this site's games into it without running the comparison those results are about. Running it: a quarter to a half of ordered pairs compare inside a ruleset's own universe, which is a great deal — and the ruleset that is not dead-ending sits in the middle of that range. Ten comparisons are lost when a universe is enlarged, and every one is lost to a dead-ending company.
A numeral in the empty squares
The rung below ruled out a quantitative criterion for Push and asked for a numeral over the coins combined with a count over the gaps. The two ingredients are the right way round: the colours pick a fraction — −1, −1/3, −1/7, −1/15 — and the empty squares give the binary precision, so a run of k coins before one of the other colour with g gaps is worth exactly (1 − 2^(−kg)) ÷ (2^k − 1). And it does not compose: a strip of two runs is not the sum of them, on any pair tried.
The cliff a cut invents
The rung below asked for a correction term in the gap between two Push runs. There is none, because the gap's contribution vanishes: widen it and the strip's value converges geometrically, at a rate set by the back run's length alone, to a limit that is not the sum. And Shove — whose reading is exact everywhere — fails at the same cut, which says the broken thing is the cut and not the game.
Read from the back forwards
The rung below found a two-run Push strip converging at a rate set by the back run and asked what a third run does — whether the rate is still the rearmost run's, or whether the rates compound. It is the rearmost run's, and for every gap: widen the front gap of a three-run strip, two whole runs away, and the value still dies at the last run's rate. Shove, the game one clause away, compounds.
Two strips that end the same way
If a Push strip's sensitivity is governed by its last run, then two strips agreeing at the far end should behave the same however different their fronts. On 78 of 80 tails they do, exactly. On two of them a single empty square in the prefix reaches across a gap that grows without bound and halves the rate — and the run reading turns out to be sound in one direction only.
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.
The whole library · The position index · The figures that play back