Monomorphic

Flood-it, a color filling game. This version was made by Lab Pixies for the iPhone, but many others exist.

There’s a veritable torrent of little games constantly being released for the iPhone. One of the more likable ones is Flood-It, which I’ve been playing recently. The premise is extremely simple: you start off with a grid divided into squares of different, randomized colors. You are given a tool that works a bit like the bucket fill in a picture editor. At each turn, the player chooses a color to fill the grid with, starting from the upper left corner. The monochromatic area slowly grows, and the aim is to fill the entire grid with a single color within a limited number of turns.

A recent analysis showed that finding an optimal solution to games like Flood-It is a NP-hard problem. In addition, deciding whether the game can be solved in n steps for some n is NP-complete. The analysis relies on a reduction of Flood-It to an instance of the SCS problem (shortest common superstring). (It’s important to note that what is NP-complete is deciding whether a particular board can be solved in a certain number of steps, not solving the game with a bounded number of steps. This can be done in polynomial time.) For those who need a summary, ACM Communications had an excellent review of the state of the P/NP problem in September last year.

For a NP-hard problem H, there exists a polynomial time reduction of any problem in NP to H, meaning that if we can solve H in P-time, we can solve any problem in NP in P-time. Many optimization problems in society rely on approximate solutions to difficult problems: routing traffic, assembling DNA sequences from partial subsequences, mathematical theorem proving… On the hypothesis that evolution has turned people into efficient solvers of hard problems (i.e. we have good heuristics in our brains from birth and from experience), we ought to pay people to play these games on their phones, but map real problems into game instances, so that people effectively work while they’re playing. We ought to design games that act as front-ends for real combinatorial problems.

A computer game, as we understand it, can be defined as a very smooth learning curve, and if we only “play” very tricky instances of combinatorial problems, the game would probably present too much of a barrier to new players. So maybe the best way of executing this kind of scheme would be that a majority of all game instances do not represent real problems, but mere training or verification of already solved problems — but every once in a while, a real problem pops up. The player should still get paid though.

A double benefit would be blurring the line between work time and  play time, what is useful and what is useless — I think this line is often artificially constructed. Has technology ever before given us the possibility to literally turn work into play?

Acknowledgements. I am indebted to Christian Sommer for showing me the complexity analysis of Flood-it.

The Flood-It game, easy difficulty setting, with the player having made some progress.

A cold, bright morning in Tokyo’s somewhat fashionable Azabu-Juuban district. I’m looking for a clinic, but I can’t find it. I’ve only visited it once before, more than a year earlier. I look for landmarks that I might remember, bring out the map on my phone, pay attention to every detail in the hope that I will recognize something.

The morning has turned into a game. It’s me against the city layout, me against my memory, me against entropy and the temporal degradation of my cognitive faculties. The ludic dimension has entered my life again. And soon enough, I find the place I was looking for.

When we have a sense of competition, that a victory against something or someone is possible, our awareness of life is heightened in every way. We pay more attention, we notice more, we become more here and now. The endless simmering chatter in our heads, nearly meaningless thoughts that usually refuse to yield anything meaningful, gives way to absolute focus.

It occurs to me that a society where everyday tasks can be carried out like they are games, victories to be won, might be a more moral society, with greater happiness and life awareness for everyone. In such a society, even if you lose a particular game, you win something else.

For a long time, the level of comfort allowed us by technology has risen persistently. This trend shows no signs of slowing down. One of two things would have to happen: either we reach some point where a fundamental barrier prevents us from extracting or converting certain natural resources beyond a certain rate, and this becomes a hard constraint on humanity for all time, or physical matter ends up being under our complete control. In this latter scenario, which I don’t view as unlikely, we’d be able to convert trash into useful things at our whim, for instance.

This scenario is sometimes referred to as an age of abundance. It may have a large intersection with the singularity, an idea first championed in 1993 by Vernor Vinge, or it may be a consequence or a necessary prerequisite of it. For now, let us focus on the economic aspect of abundance only.

If these things come to pass, one of the fundamental assumptions of classical economics – scarcity – would be contradicted. I would suggest that we are culturally unprepared for this kind of world.

As countries’ economic productivity increases, we are faced with the choice of whether to work less and enjoy the same standard of living, or work as much and enjoy a higher standard of living. My understanding is that people have always chosen the latter.

In The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, Max Weber puts forth the view that the development of capitalism in Europe was largely influenced by protestant values, particularly Calvinist ones. Even though many European peoples today consider themselves to be secular, it is clear that a Christian legacy has left a big mark on contemporary European culture. Simply put, many people only feel proud when they work and feel that they serve a useful purpose to their country. This is why they cannot choose to work less.

In an era of abundance, people would not be needed for the carrying out of most tasks. If they insisted on carrying out the tasks anyway, they would have to know that they were being costly and useless, thereby depriving them of enjoyment – unless we deluded them!

I see a few ways out of this situation.

• Craftsmanship is considered a uniquely human and artistic activity, and people who turn to art and crafts can continue to feel that they are important.
• Some work is fundamentally centered on human interaction and human meetings, for instance care, psychotherapy, hairdressing and leadership. These roles are unlikely to grow useless even as technology advances (purely materially).
• Culture would have to change, allowing people to rest and feel valuable even without contributing to their society’s affluence. If this is possible or not is an open question.

I should point out that the contribution-as-pride mindset is a feature not just of European protestant cultures, but also seems to be one of Japan – though for different reasons. And probably one of many other countries as well.

Philosophers have long debated whether we can perceive reality in an objective manner, or if there is a multitude of subjective perceptions. I am not qualified to enter this debate on an academic level, but I will offer some thoughts from my current vantage point.

Sensory impressions can probably be said to be objective. I have no reason to contest this. Probably, there’s a certain genetic variation in how sensitive our sensory organs are, e.g. degrees of color blindness or sensitivity to high frequencies, but this can be compensated for technologically; with hearing aids, microscopes and various kinds of sensors we can expand our sensory range far beyond what we are born with.

It’s quite likely that when me and my friend look at an object, we will notice different things about it and walk away with different first impressions. If they contradict each other, we return to the object and try to establish who was right. So these contradictions can be resolved by going back to the source.

We tell ourselves narratives about what we observe. Most abstractions are such narratives. For instance, I have never seen a perfect circle or a perfect line, since such things don’t exist, but I have seen very good approximations of such things in the world. Only by going up extremely close can I see that my perception was an approximation. But even though I know this, I will remember my perceptions in terms of these approximations since it’s the only practical thing to do. However, I can still “go back to the source” and establish the validity of my impression.

So with first hand perceptions, and with concepts that are built from compounded first hand perceptions, there’s nothing really contradicting an objective reality or suggesting that such a reality wouldn’t exist. But many objects of vital importance in society revolve around narratives that can not conveniently be examined in terms of first hand sensory impressions. Objects such as impressions of people, political platforms and ideologies, appreciation of art (which, even though it can be reduced to sensory impressions, seems supremely hard to explain in terms of it), and so on. For this reason, I think that the narratives that are most likely to be told in these fields form a subjective reality that is highly unlikely to be disproven or reduced to sensory impressions. By the very nature of these, precise communication between spectators is impossible and people are likely to carry wildly contradictory stories in their heads.

And in such a world, whether or not we can agree on the objectivity of basic sensory impressions, subjective impressions (narratives that will not be deconstructed or falsified readily) will carry great importance. In fact, we have a basic drive to construct these narratives in order to deal with the complexity of everything we perceive. This might change if we in the future can create a perfect mathematical model of the human mind. In this case, maybe some problematic items such as appreciation of art or the meaning of an ideology might be reduced to an objective and verifiable-from-sensory-impressions concept.

It would be interesting to explore the grayzone between concepts that we easily perceive objectively and concepts that we easily perceive subjectively. Are there ideas whose validity can be reduced to sensory impressions, but only with great effort, so that people do not usually do so?

(This post is partly inspired by recent posts by Carl Svanberg, who blogs about objectivism in Swedish. My philosophical views are still in development, and I don’t want to side with one -ism camp or the other as of yet.)