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Speedrunning and the Scientific Method

In a previous post, I wrote about speedrunning and I asked myself why I found it so enthralling.

Well, I should clarify that. I’ve watched a couple of Pokémon speedrunners grinding runs, which was supremely uninteresting. I watched pokeguy84 swear and reset repeatedly, and dropped in on an Exarion stream right after his main Pokémon died to a critical hit and the very promising run died with it. The only sound on the stream was the Pokémon battle music playing over and over. A viewer typed in Twitch chat, “He’s not coming back, is he?” Exarion did come back, and he did attempt a few more runs, but none of them were as promising as the dead run had been.

Huh, I thought. So this is speedrunning — long stretches of grinding boredom, punctuated by a few flashes of elusive euphoria.

When I wrote my last speedrunning post, there was no real insight to it. Obviously there was a link to be made between speedrunning and competitive sport, but to my mind, they differ in one key respect: there is a very clear reason to play sport besides the simple desire to be elite at something, or even to simply improve at something. Being able to run farther or lift heavier loads or respond faster to external stimuli has clear advantages outside of the arena of sport. I can’t think of any specific skills in speedrunning, whether mental or motor, that are in any way comparable. (Of course, I don’t speedrun, so perhaps there are real mental advantages that speedrunners develop that I can’t see from here.)

I sound like I think speedrunning is a waste of time, which is not the case. It’s worth repeating that my question is not: “Why do people speedrun?” My question is, “Why do I find good speedruns compelling?”

I was still pondering this question when I decided to watch a video by Summoning Salt, about the most infamous level in Super Mario Bros:

4-2: The History of Super Mario Bros.’ Most Infamous Level, by Summoning Salt

Summoning Salt is a real historian of speedrunning, and a really good storyteller, able to carve out the broad arcs of each game’s story while clearly explaining the little details that motivate each breakthrough. I quickly became a fan. I watched his Super Mario Bros video, then his Pokémon Red/Blue video, then his Sonic 2 video, then his Metroid and Super Metroid videos, then his Portal and Half-Life 2 videos, Donkey Kong (which is something special), Mike Tyson, Legend of Zelda

And I started to realise, the real comparison here wasn’t speedrunning and sport, it was speedrunning and science.

The Incremental Nature of Science

As a kid, the stories of scientists that I read about tended to focus on the big breakthrough discoveries. I was especially interested in physics, and the history of early 20th century physics feels like it turns on a few major personalities: Max Born, Max Planck, Marie Curie — wait, how about this:

A photo of attendees of the Solvay Conference in 1927, including Schrödinger, Pauli, Heisenberg, Dirac, de Broglie, Born, Bohr, Planck, Curie, Lorentz and Einstein, among others. Attendees of the Solvay Conference in 1927.

This was my impression of what physicists did: they made earth-shattering, groundbreaking discoveries that altered the landscape of human knowledge.

Only in college, when I was taking classes in linguistics and found myself loving the discipline, did I start to understand that this vision of science wasn’t the full picture. The paradigm shifters in any field get all the glory, but science is primarily incremental in nature: for every scientist whose name goes in the history books, there are a thousand others working on the little advances that make the big ones possible.

Speedrunning as a scientific endeavour

The process of speedrunning is, in many ways, similar to the process of science. It isn’t simply about playing a video game as fast as possible. Most of us, when playing video games, are content to live in the virtual world that’s placed before us and take it at face value, but speedrunners — they want to push their understanding of that virtual world to the absolute limit.

In an interview on the speedrunning podcast My Insane Pace, Pokémon speedrunner Shenanagans divided the Pokémon speedrunning community into three groups: the glitch hunters, the routers and the runners. I’m writing here as a total outsider, but I doubt these are strict categories: I imagine most Pokémon speedrunners will straddle two of these categories to some degree. The glitch hunters find ways to break the game that are useful to speedrunners. The routers are the theorycrafters who use their knowledge of the game (including any glitches that are allowed) to plan the fastest route through the game, and the runners are the ones who actually execute the routes.

Shenanagans was talking about Pokémon, but it’s clear from Summoning Salt’s videos that this is true of all speedrunning communities. The first runs in any game are usually superbly-executed playthroughs by highly skilled players, similar to what a casual player might do except highly refined and nearly error-free. At this stage, the runners are the dominant force. They bring the target time down, until someone does a run that is so flawless, so optimal, that the possibilities of the route are exhausted.

Routers: The Engineers

At this point, the routers take over. They examine their assumptions about what the fastest path through the game is, and work to cut out any parts of the game that are not essential to finishing the game. Depending on the nature of the game, this work can take many forms. A game that is relatively linear, like Super Mario Bros or Metroid, might present relatively few routing possibilities. A game that is relatively open, like the main series Pokémon games, presents a multitude of possible routes, but very few of them will allow for a competitive speedrun.

Of the games that are commonly speedrun, there are only a few that I have completed myself and can talk with any degree of confidence about: Pokémon Generations 1-3, and Jet Set Radio Future (JSRF). JSRF is a relatively linear game, where the goals needed to unlock the next game levels are clear, and the fastest path through the game presents itself relatively quickly, even to a novice player. From a routing point of view, there are a few things you can do to save time: not all the characters need to be unlocked, some fights and races can be avoided, and an entire level (the sewers) can be skipped. However, because the game itself gives you a fairly limited set of permutations to progress through the game, the fastest route through JSRF is straightforward to learn.

The main series Pokémon games, on the other hand, are much more complex and present much more elaborate routing possibilities. A regular Pokémon player wants to maximise the total amount of experience points that the six Pokémon in their party have, and to catch as many Pokémon as possible along the way. This entails fighting as many battles and walking through as much tall grass as possible. This takes a great deal of time and makes up the bulk of a Pokémon playthrough.

A Pokémon speedrunner, however, is not trying to maximise total experience points. They are trying to do the opposite, to minimise the total needed to complete the game.

For a certain kind of gamer, this kind of question is an intellectual playground. What is the least amount of battling needed to get through the game? Six strong Pokémon take too long to train. One strong Pokémon is better than six weak Pokémon. What should that one Pokémon be? The biggest advantages you can have in battle are stats, moveset and type, so this one strong Pokémon should have high base stats, a powerful moveset, and preferably have few type weaknesses.

That narrows the 150 (or more) possibilities down to a much smaller pool of candidates, but the work of really optimising the route has only just begun at this point. Which battles are unavoidable? What Pokémon are encountered in these battles? What stats do these Pokémon have? What moves? Working from this information, what is the minimum amount of damage needed at each stage of the game to get through these battles, and the minimum amount of defense, special defense and health needed to survive? In a way, the game becomes an engineering problem, and all routers are trying to do is to find the most time-efficient solution.

Glitch Hunters: The Field Researchers and Lab Scientists

It is impossible to discuss routing in many games without discussing the glitch hunters. Glitch hunters look for ways to break the game, often as a way to try to understand how the game is built. Think about a child playing with wooden blocks who builds a structure and then removes blocks, one by one, until it collapses: this is not too different from what glitch hunters do. They look at a game as a carefully-constructed structure, and try to find which cornerstones and support pillars hold up the game, and how the structure holds up or falls apart when some of these elements are modified or removed.

(There is some discussion about what constitutes a glitch and what doesn’t, but I’m not going to get into that here. For our purposes, I’m going to group glitches, exploits and level skips together, because the differences are not important in this post.)

I could try to give you an example of how glitches help speedrunners to understand the game better, but it’s easier to let the experts do it. If you’ve ever played Pokémon Red/Blue/Yellow, I urge you to watch Shenanagan’s masterclass in catching all 151 Pokémon in Pokémon Blue from Summer Games Done Quick 2015:

Pokémon Blue 151 Pokémon by Shenanagans in 1:58:56 at SGDQ 2015

Many glitches have effects that are undesirable in normal gameplay, sometimes irreversibly breaking the game. However, glitches of all stripes are of interest to speedrunners because they suggest ways that the game can be manipulated, and therefore open up new routing possibilities that non-speedrunners would not even dream of considering. Some speedrunning communities maintain separate glitched and glitchless categories for speedrunners who prefer their games glitchless, but glitches are still useful discoveries in glitchless speedrunning because discoveries about the structure of the game may alter the calculus of routing possibilities in glitchless speedrunning.

Replicability

Here is where, to my mind at least, the parallels to the scientific method really start to take shape. A glitch is useless unless it is replicable.

In this respect, a glitch is no different from any other software bug. If you encounter a bug in a piece of software, the developer needs to know what you were doing right before the bug happened, because that’s the key to figuring out why it happens and how to debug the code. The critical difference between a software bug and a gaming glitch is how it is viewed. Developers understand how their software works, and bugs reveal oversights in the logic of the software. Glitch hunters do not have that privileged view of the software, and glitches reveal insights into the game logic.

Developers are watchmakers who craft a complex piece of machinery, while glitch hunters are more akin to field researchers and lab scientists, rigorously documenting new discoveries and tweaking experimental variables.

If a glitch cannot be replicated, it might as well be an accident caused by the sneezing of the universe. If it can be replicated, however, routers can add it to their arsenal of game knowledge and look at how this glitch or exploit can help gain time on existing routes.

Tool-Assisted Speedrunning: The Theoreticians

In some speedrunning communities, there is an additional group of speedrunners often critical to helping lower records: the tool-assisted speedrunners. A tool-assisted speedrun (TAS) is a run done in an emulator by a player who has meticulously planned out the game inputs (i.e. button presses) frame by frame, so that routes requiring multiple frame-perfect inputs that might be impossible for human reflexes can be run. In other words, the route is run by a computer.

TASes do not qualify for records, but I noticed that they often feature prominently in Summoning Salt’s world record progression videos. If a route is theoretically possible but very difficult to execute, a TAS is often presented as a proof of concept. Sometimes TAS routes are run, then shelved as being too difficult for a human to run, then revisited when the potential of easier routes is exhausted, as in the case of Super Mario Bros Level 4-2 (this link goes to the relevant TAS section, but you may want to start from the beginning for context). Other times, a difficult route is run by TAS to set a mark for human players to work towards, as in the case of Mario Kart’s Choco Mountain’s Weathertenko (this link also goes to the relevant TAS section, but you may want to start from the beginning for context).

The obvious scientific analogue here is the theoretician, the scientists who work with models and predictions, and whose work helps to advance understanding of what is possible but is not immediately applicable.

TASes are not useful for all speedrunning games. They are useful for testing extremely challenging routes in games with almost no randomness in the gameplay, like Super Mario Bros. In a game like Pokémon with a considerable amount of randomness, however, there are too many moving parts for TASes to be useful. In such speedrunning communities, the routers are the ones who take on the job of presenting these proofs of concept.

The Structure of World Record Progressions

Thomas Kuhn is credited with introducing the idea of the paradigm shift in his 1962 book, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. He argues that “normal science” is punctuated by periods of “revolutionary science”, when existing models of science prove to be inadequate, and a period of tumult follows as new models are constructed to accommodate paradigm-breaking discoveries. These new paradigms demand the re-evaluation of old data, and eventually one will become the basis for the next period of normal science.

Kuhn’s presentation of the idea was controversial, but the concept is nonetheless useful in relation to speedrunning. If we think of a route as a paradigm, then the rest of the analogy falls in place easily.

In the early days of a game’s speedrunning history, skilled players converge on one optimal strategy to speedrun the game, and successive runs refine this route/paradigm until its potential is exhausted. Then, routers start examining assumptions about the best way to run the game, theorycrafting new routes/paradigms and incorporating lesser-known tricks and more difficult manoeuvres. In doing so, they work closely with glitch hunters and tool-assisted speedrunners to figure out how the game is built and what the theoretical limits are. They look at known glitches and explore ways to incorporate them into new and better routes, re-evaluating all their assumptions about established routes along the way.

Then, a breakthrough: either a new glitch is found, or an old glitch is “rediscovered” and successfully incorporated into an improved route/paradigm that might lower the theoretical speed record once more, so that the runners can have another go. The cycle begins again.

Obviously, this is a very abstract and overly simplified picture. The real process of lowering a speedrun record is much more nuanced, and all of the processes I describe in this post — glitch-hunting, tool-assisted speedrunning, routing, and the actual speedrunning — occur simultaneously, not sequentially. If you consider the scientific analogues — engineers, field and experimental researchers, theoreticians — it’s the same thing: progress in each domain happens simultaneously, not sequentially. Theoreticians don’t stop working while they wait for their colleagues in the lab to publish. Nonetheless, I think this division of labour is a useful lens through which to look at speedrunning.

The speedrunners: what about them?

So far, this analogy hasn’t accounted for the runners themselves. The runners are the ones who actually perform the speedruns, so what would their scientific analogues be? Truth be told, I don’t know. The analogy breaks down here, because so much of science is predicated on progressing knowledge through the accumulation of controlled, repeatable experiments, and speedrunning records are, by definition, exceptional. The methods to perform the speedruns may be rigorously documented, but few people on the planet will ever be able to repeat the methods to the required precision, and even then they may not match or beat the speedrun records of any given category. This is antithetical to the idea of replicability.

This is where speedrunning diverges from science and converges with sport. In fact, speedrunning uses the language of speed-based sports: pace, split, personal best, world record.

This is the face of speedrunning, the only dimension that most of us ever interact with twice a year when Games Done Quick rolls around and millions of gamers watch the world’s best speedrunners performing jawdropping feats of gaming. It’s probably why the comparison of speedrunning with sport seemed so natural to me at first.

Every GDQ run includes a commentator’s couch, where other speedrunners explain what the runner is doing and, very very briefly, the underlying mechanics that allow each section of the game to be optimised to such a degree. In a way, the couch commentators represent the real experience of speedrunning — the experimentation, the refinement of each route, and the collective knowledge of the community.

It would be easy to regard speedrunners as the leading edge of the speedrunning community, the ones who push past the limits and establish new frontiers, like the star scientists at the Solvay Conference. Perhaps it is more fitting, though, to think of the star speedrunners at GDQ as the keystone of an arch. Each block, each voussoir, is an incremental step towards the keystone. The keystone is merely the final piece of an architectural puzzle that rests upon all the blocks below it and gives the arch its shape. The speedruns are the raison d’être of the speedrunning community, but the joy of speedrunning lies in the process of discovery and inquiry that makes the speedruns possible.

Additional thoughts

  • Obviously there isn’t a true one-to-one analogy with science here, especially since many speedrunners play multiple roles. This is just a useful way to frame the process of lowering speedrunning records.
  • Kuhn’s paradigm shift model is often contrasted with incremental science. In this post, I have blended the two, just to avoid a long and unnecessary philosophy of science discussion.
  • Another area that’s worth a comparison with speedrunning is speed climbing. I know very little about climbing, having never climbed myself (two half-days of climbing at Outward Bound doesn’t count). What prompted this idea was an article by Kelly Cordes in Outside magazine about the risks of speed climbing. Like other speed-based sports that occur on established routes, speed climbing involves route-based records, a continual search for time saves, and the need for near-perfection on record climbs. What’s unusual about speed climbing — and what it shares with speedrunning — is the use of techniques never used by traditional climbers. Recreational runners, swimmers, cyclists, rowers, skiiers, etc. all use the same techniques as the fastest professionals, just not as fast. Speed climbers and speedrunners, on the other hand, engage in their hobbies in ways that traditional climbers and gamers would never consider doing, or even actively object to.

Learning To Read Science

I’ve been trying, with mixed success, to reduce the amount of plastic waste I generate. Spending months in Freiburg will do that to you.

So imagine my joy at seeing this headline in the Guardian this week:

Scientists accidentally create mutant enzyme that eats plastic bottles (The Guardian, 16 Apr 2018)

Woohoo! I no longer need to feel guilty about all the single-use packaging my groceries are in!

Any images of plastic melting into water and carbon dioxide were swiftly dispelled, however, when I read the article itself:

“The new research was spurred by the discovery in 2016 of the first bacterium that had naturally evolved to eat plastic, at a waste dump in Japan. Scientists have now revealed the detailed structure of the crucial enzyme produced by the bug. The international team then tweaked the enzyme to see how it had evolved, but tests showed they had inadvertently made the molecule even better at breaking down the PET (polyethylene terephthalate) plastic used for soft drink bottles…”

So the enzyme that eats plastic bottles already existed, and was discovered in 2016. What the scientists accidentally did is they accidentally made it better at eating plastic bottles.

How much better is the new mutant enzyme at breaking down PET (polyethylene terephthalate)?

“It is a modest improvement – 20% better – but that is not the point,” said McGeehan. “It’s incredible because it tells us that the enzyme is not yet optimised.”

See, here’s the problem I have. The developments in the article are genuinely exciting, not for their immediate uses but because of what they suggest is possible — that we may eventually find and/or develop enzymes that can break down all plastics (not just PET) in a matter of, say, hours or days — as opposed to the centuries plastics currently take to degrade.

But none of that possibility is conveyed in a sensationalist headline that focuses on the idea of eating plastic bottles.

In fact, the Reddit post on r/science highlighting this article got flagged for a sensationalistic headline.

Screenshot in case the post disappears. Screenshot of the Guardian article posted on Reddit

And the mod response right at the bottom. And the mod response on the Reddit post: “Your submission has been removed for the following reason(s): It has a sensationalized, editorialized, or biased headline…“

Confusogenic Cancer Communications

Let’s visit another bad science headline, from October 2015.

Processed meats rank alongisde smoking as cancer causes — WHO (The Guardian, 26 Oct 2015)

You might remember this one. When the World Health Organisation (WHO)’s International Agency for Research on Cancer (IARC) released its report on the link between processed meats and colon cancer in Lancet Oncology, the news made headlines all over the world. The Guardian’s headline was especially egregious, for reasons I’ll point out in a second, but many major news outlets responded with similar headlines:

Meat Is Linked To Higher Cancer Risk, W.H.O. Report Finds (New York Times)

Hot dogs, bacon and other processed meats cause cancer, World Health Organization declares (Washington Post)

Processed meats do cause cancer — WHO (BBC News)

All of these headlines say that eating meat causes (or “is linked to”) cancer, but the Guardian’s headline says one thing that the other headlines do not: that processed meat is in some way as bad at causing you cancer as smoking.

Let’s take a look at the openings of each of these articles, too. The Guardian:

“Bacon, ham and sausages rank alongside cigarettes as a major cause of cancer, the World Health Organisation has said, placing cured and processed meats in the same category as asbestos, alcohol, arsenic and tobacco.”

The New York Times:

“An international panel of experts convened by the World Health Organization concluded Monday that eating processed meat like hot dogs, ham and bacon raises the risk of colon cancer and that consuming other red meats “probably” raises the risk as well. But the increase in risk is so slight that experts said most people should not be overly worried about it.”

The Washington Post:

“A research division of the World Health Organization announced Monday that bacon, sausage and other processed meats cause cancer and that red meat probably does, too.”

The BBC:

“Processed meats - such as bacon, sausages and ham - do cause cancer, according to the World Health Organization (WHO). Its report said 50g of processed meat a day - less than two slices of bacon - increased the chance of developing colorectal cancer by 18%. Meanwhile, it said red meats were “probably carcinogenic” but there was limited evidence.”

If you look carefully, you’ll notice that the New York Times, Washington Post and the BBC talk specifically about the findings in the Lancet Oncology paper itself, which is a meta-analysis of existing studies and pretty readable even for someone without any college-level medical or biology knowledge:

“A meta-analysis of colorectal cancer in ten cohort studies reported a statistically significant dose–response relationship, with a 17% increased risk (95% CI 1·05–1·31) per 100 g per day of red meat and an 18% increase (95% CI 1·10–1·28) per 50 g per day of processed meat.”

The Guardian, instead, opted to talk about the WHO’s categorisation of processed meat as a class 1 carcinogen:

“Overall, the Working Group classified consumption of processed meat as “carcinogenic to humans” (Group 1) on the basis of sufficient evidence for colorectal cancer.”

Here’s the problem: the IARC’s classification of carcinogens does not classify them by degree of risk of carcinogenicity, but rather by the strength of the evidence that they are carcinogenic. Atlantic writer Ed Yong put it most elegantly in his article, Why is the World Health Organization So Bad At Communicating Cancer Risk?:

“[T]hese classifications are not meant to convey how dangerous something is, just how certain we are that something is dangerous.”

Scientific Literacy, Or Lack Thereof

While it’s true that the WHO’s communications on the carcinogenicity of processed meat were pretty dang bad, I also think the overall level of scientific literacy among non-scientists is pretty poor.

This comment isn’t about how much science non-scientists know — it’s about whether non-scientists know how to read science at all. And to be fair, this isn’t something I knew to seek out for myself either — it was something that I accidentally thrust on myself.

My final semester at NYU, I took a class called Learning To Speak: First and Second Language Acquisition Of Sound. I asked the professor beforehand what the class was like, and she said it was “lots of reading”.

Easy peasy, I thought. I’m a Spanish major, I can do lots of reading. In my imagination there was some kind of textbook of language acquisition, and we’d read a chapter or two every week.

Of course that’s not what happened. Every week, we read two to three papers on how people learn to speak and understand spoken language, and then we critiqued them. We discussed how well or how poorly the experiments were designed, how the subject pools may have affected the outcome, alternative interpretations of the results, and so on. (While discussing one paper with a particularly baffling choice of subjects, our professor said, “You’re all young and like, ‘for the science!’ but maybe he had a publishing deadline and decided the the data was good enough.”)

Honestly, I don’t remember half of the conclusions from the papers we read, but what I took away from the class was much more valuable. I learnt how to read a scientific paper, how to look for and poke at chinks in the armour, the linguistic and statistical sleights of hand that researchers might use to shore up data that is in reality not very conclusive. It was the first time I’d been forced to pull back the curtain and actually look at how scientific knowledge is created — and therefore how solid or shaky that knowledge might be.

This is very different from how science tends to be taught up to high school. At that level, education focuses not on the experiment but on the result. High school science is about showing a grasp of principles that are already well-established, without necessarily exploring how those principles got established in the first place.

It’s no surprise, then, that when we’re watching science being written, we have no idea what to do with it. It’s not that we don’t want to see the sausage being made, necessarily — we’re not even taught what that looks like. Right through high school we’re only shown complete sausages, and given the vague impression that they come straight from the animal like this. (Okay, that metaphor died fast.)

Except maybe don’t eat sausages, because, you know, they raise your risk of colorectal cancer from 4.3% to just over 5%.

Very preliminary thoughts and questions on speedrunning

I’ve only recently discovered speedrunning. It’s a fairly obscure corner of gaming culture, so here’s a quick explanation that Kosmicd12, current holder of the Super Mario Bros. world record, gave to FiveThirtyEight:

The goal of speedrunning is to go fast.

Yup, that’s all there is to it: complete videogames as fast as possible.

Underlying that very simple explanation is a very intricately constructed house of cards, consisting of an incredibly deep knowledge of the game, an insanely high level of skill, an inordinate wealth of patience, and sheer dumb luck.

I’m not all that good at games, but I play them and think about them a lot (as you’ll discover soon). Many months ago, one of my favourite gamers, Quill18, gave a shoutout to Games Done Quick. I dropped in on the Summer Games Done Quick 2017 stream, and it so happened that the speedrun going on at the exact moment I joined the stream was Jet Set Radio Future (JSRF), one of my childhood games. I only managed to complete it once, and it took me all day. I can’t tell you now whether “all day” meant eight hours or 12, because I can’t remember. It wasn’t a very memorable achievement.

The JSRF speedrunner at SGDQ was FingerQuick, who completed the game in one hour, fifty-three minutes, and six seconds.

Months later, I was watching Quill18 play Pokémon Platinum, when he mentioned that he had seen Horn Drill used a lot in Pokémon speedrunning.

Horn Drill? I’ve played a lot of Gen 1 and 2 Pokémon, and Horn Drill is not a move I consider reliable. If it hits, it’s a one-hit knockout, but it is a fairly inaccurate move. I was curious why Pokémon speedrunners would choose to use it.

Off I went to watch a Pokémon speedrun. I found Exarion’s Pokémon Red world record run, and watched the whole thing:

Pokémon Red any% glitchless speedrun by Exarion in 1:50 IGT

I was stunned. I’d never seen Pokémon played like this before, with a total, relentless focus on speed. I didn’t fully understand what was going on, but even with what I did understand, it was clear that this way of playing required a completely different perspective on gameplay than I’d ever thought about.

Most Pokémon players will focus on building a well-rounded team of six Pokémon. Exarion and other Pokémon speedrunners choose one Pokémon to run with, and use it throughout their entire run. This cuts down on the time needed to train a full party of six, and on the time needed to switch Pokémon in and out of battle.

Most Pokémon players will plan movesets with a view to their Pokémon being able to handle any opponent. Pokémon speedrunners tailor their main Pokémon’s moveset to be able to take on specific opponents at specific stages of the game as time-efficiently as possible. For example, Exarion’s guide to speedrunning Pokémon Red has your main Nidoking with a moveset of Thunderbolt, Bubblebeam, Thrash and Mega Punch before Pokémon Tower in Lavender Town. He suggests teaching Rock Slide over Mega Punch before entering the tower, but has you teaching Horn Drill over Rock Slide before you even leave the tower. If you follow the guide, you use Rock Slide exactly four times before Nidoking is made to forget the move. As far as I can figure out, this is because otherwise, Nidoking would have to use Thunderbolt against four Ghost-type Pokémon, and Thunderbolt is not a one-hit against the Ghosts, while Rock Slide is. (I don’t actually know this for sure, it’s just the only logical explanation I’ve come up with!) Rock Slide actually has less power than Thunderbolt, but Nidoking’s base Attack stat is significantly higher than his base Special, which is enough to overcome the difference.

And there, I’ve gone and done it. I told myself I wasn’t going to get into the weeds, and here I am. Well, I guess that ties in nicely with my next few gameplay points: Pokémon speedrunners use in-battle special items (X Attack, X Special, X Speed, Guard Spec.) much more often than regular players, are far more judicious about using stat-boosting items (Protein, Iron, Carbos, Calcium, HP Up), are far more concerned about PP management (to minimise Pokémon Center visits), and pick their trainer and wild Pokémon fights very carefully (fight only if unavoidable or needed for XP). That’s what a casual player sees when watching a high-level speedrun.

Speedrunning is far more complex than that, however. When I first watched Exarion’s run, I noticed that the very first step he took into the tall grass on Route 22 netted him the Nidoran♂that he ran with, and that this statistical improbability passed uncommented on (Nidoran♂’s encounter rate on Route 22 is 35%). That’s when I realised that speedrunners must have some way to manipulate the random number generator. In Viridian Forest, he took a very specific route through the grass, and did not encounter any Pokémon in most of the grass — another statistical improbability.

I was curious enough to dig deeper, and that’s what led me to Shenanagans’s run of Pokémon Blue at SGDQ 2015:

Pokémon Blue (151 Pokémon) by Shenanagans in 1:58:56

That’s when I started to understand that the appeal of speedrunning wasn’t exclusively speed or skill; it was as much an intellectual exercise. It’s a self-imposed logic problem: given this piece of compiled code, what is the fastest way to get from A to B?

Seeing other highlights of speedrunning, such as Shenanagans’s Pokémon Glitch Exhibition at AGDQ 2016, Kosmicd12’s world record Super Mario Bros run, TriHex’s Yoshi’s Island run at AGDQ 2014, and the Tetris: The Grand Master Showcaseat AGDQ 2015 made me start to ask myself: what is it about speedrunning that I find so compelling?

Take a look at this superb breakdown of Kosmicd12’s Super Mario Bros world record run:

Bismuth explains how Kosmicd12 was able to beat Super Mario Bros in 4:56.462

When you look at the amount of planning, skill, and then the luck involved in trying to shave one frame off a 60fps game (i.e. 0.016s), that seems absolutely insane for something that has no evolutionary benefit that I can think of.

Let me make this absolutely clear: this isn’t a judgement about what speedrunners should be doing with their time. This is a question about me: why do I find speedrunning so compelling?

I spilled a lot of ink trying to figure this out, but I don’t have a lot of clear ideas. So here’s a list of questions I have for myself that I’d like to untangle:

  • What is the appeal of sport?
  • What is the appeal of beauty?
  • Must sport have an evolutionary basis to be appealing?
  • Must beauty have an evolutionary basis? (Yup, Richard Prum’s Evolution of Beauty is on my list)
  • Must a speedrun be a world record to make interesting viewing?
  • Watching a speedrunner stream a speedrun attempt is much less interesting (to me) than watching a completed speedrun after the fact. Why is that?
  • What is the function of entertainment?

I make no promises that I will approach these questions in order, or even try and answer them directly. Tomorrow I might sit down and write about something completely different, but the ink I spill on that might eventually lead back to the topic of speedrunning.