Recently I’ve had another of my occasional flings with NetHack (warning: addictive). It strikes me as a great example of a computer game that teaches about probability, inference and hypothesis testing.
I’m using all the spoilers I can find, and still find it a challenging game. Feel free to mock me. :)
A “spoiled” game of NetHack means you have precise numerical values of the upsides and downsides of various actions, e.g. rubbing a magic lamp. Or reading a scroll that you know from a shopkeeper’s offer can be one of N scrolls, some of which have beneficial effects and others harmful. That definitely requires probabilistic decision-making—indulge in wishful thinking and you’ll die often; play too cautiously (ignoring positive EVs of some actions with nasty downsides) and, well, you’ll die often.
I suppose playing it “unspoiled” is even better, as you’d have to infer the frequencies from observation as opposed to having them delivered on a silver platter, as it were.
Oh, no, I have no problems with people spoiling themselves for Nethack. That’s pretty much the only way to actually win. But if your aim is to improve rationality, rather than to do as well as possible within the game, it might be better to play it unspoiled. After all, Morendil mentioned “hypothesis testing” as something that was taught by Nethack: The spoilt version doesn’t really test that.
What I’ve found that the spoilt version of Nethack tests, more than anything else, is patience. Nethack spoilt isn’t about scholarship, really. You don’t study. You have a situation, and you look up things that are relevant to that situation. There is a small bit of study at the beginning, generally when you look up stuff like how to begin, what a newbie-friendly class/race is, and how to not die on the second floor.
But really, it’s patience. I once did an experiment where players who were relatively new to Nethack were encouraged to spoil themselves as early and often as possible, and request advice frequently from better players. Really, to do anything short of having someone else play the game for you was not only allowed, but actively encouraged. Since I usually put a limiter on how willing I am to spoil myself on roguelikes, I thought this might be fun. (Namely, I’m unwilling to ask for any advice in tactical situations, only strategic ones: Which area should I go to next, instead of “How do I kill this ogre?”)
Conventional wisdom for Nethack states that upon reaching the halfway point of the game, you should win from there if you play correctly. I got about three-quarters of the way there, on my third run, having never gotten past the second floor on my runs prior to those three. I died to a misclick, not to lack of knowledge or poor tactics. So, patience is the true virtue of Nethack: It’s surprisingly easy to win as long as you spoil yourself, get advice, and don’t screw up.
Sadly, the experiment only had the one participant actually try it, namely me, so the evidence shall remain anecdotal.
Recently I’ve had another of my occasional flings with NetHack (warning: addictive). It strikes me as a great example of a computer game that teaches about probability, inference and hypothesis testing.
I’m assuming this only applies if you aren’t using spoilers for NetHack?
I’m using all the spoilers I can find, and still find it a challenging game. Feel free to mock me. :)
A “spoiled” game of NetHack means you have precise numerical values of the upsides and downsides of various actions, e.g. rubbing a magic lamp. Or reading a scroll that you know from a shopkeeper’s offer can be one of N scrolls, some of which have beneficial effects and others harmful. That definitely requires probabilistic decision-making—indulge in wishful thinking and you’ll die often; play too cautiously (ignoring positive EVs of some actions with nasty downsides) and, well, you’ll die often.
I suppose playing it “unspoiled” is even better, as you’d have to infer the frequencies from observation as opposed to having them delivered on a silver platter, as it were.
(ETA May 10th: finally Ascended as a Knight.)
Oh, no, I have no problems with people spoiling themselves for Nethack. That’s pretty much the only way to actually win. But if your aim is to improve rationality, rather than to do as well as possible within the game, it might be better to play it unspoiled. After all, Morendil mentioned “hypothesis testing” as something that was taught by Nethack: The spoilt version doesn’t really test that.
It teaches the virtue of scholarship.
What I’ve found that the spoilt version of Nethack tests, more than anything else, is patience. Nethack spoilt isn’t about scholarship, really. You don’t study. You have a situation, and you look up things that are relevant to that situation. There is a small bit of study at the beginning, generally when you look up stuff like how to begin, what a newbie-friendly class/race is, and how to not die on the second floor.
But really, it’s patience. I once did an experiment where players who were relatively new to Nethack were encouraged to spoil themselves as early and often as possible, and request advice frequently from better players. Really, to do anything short of having someone else play the game for you was not only allowed, but actively encouraged. Since I usually put a limiter on how willing I am to spoil myself on roguelikes, I thought this might be fun. (Namely, I’m unwilling to ask for any advice in tactical situations, only strategic ones: Which area should I go to next, instead of “How do I kill this ogre?”)
Conventional wisdom for Nethack states that upon reaching the halfway point of the game, you should win from there if you play correctly. I got about three-quarters of the way there, on my third run, having never gotten past the second floor on my runs prior to those three. I died to a misclick, not to lack of knowledge or poor tactics. So, patience is the true virtue of Nethack: It’s surprisingly easy to win as long as you spoil yourself, get advice, and don’t screw up.
Sadly, the experiment only had the one participant actually try it, namely me, so the evidence shall remain anecdotal.