Both seats in the marble game average a dollar a play, and that arithmetic stays true to the last line. Seat A carries variance 3/2 against seat B's 1, and seat A's law turns out to be seat B's law with one prize smeared outward, so every concave utility prefers B without variance ever being mentioned. Once both players stop flipping coins, seat B is ahead on the average too, at 1 against 3/4.
Going in and winning are different events: the short shot clears two hurdles and wins 0.35 of the time against the long shot's 0.40. The article prices how wrong the reflex is in two currencies, a break-even overtime rate of 4/7 and a break-even make rate of 80 percent at a coin-flip overtime. It also names the objective under which the reflex is right, since the short shot scores 1.40 expected points against 1.20 and still wins fewer games.
Four settlements in five come back below the 1.50 outlay, and the average payoff is still 1.80, an edge of 0.30 a contract or twenty percent of the money at risk. The reflex is not bad arithmetic, it is the mode standing in for the mean. The article carries the tally over one full cycle, the threshold saying you need the large outcome more often than one time in eight, and the reason waiting longer can leave you less likely to be ahead.
One chance in sixteen needs fifteen to one to break even, so a ten-to-one ticket is priced as though the calls came right nine times in a hundred rather than six and a quarter. The fair payout doubles and adds one with every leg, which is why multi-leg tickets run away from any quote a seller offers. The article carries the noise that hides the loss, 2.663 of spread against 0.3125 of edge, and the five-point edge per leg that would flip the verdict.
The fraction that maximises long-run growth is exactly the edge, 2p-1, which is 0.2 on this coin, and one derivative gets you there. Double it and the growth rate is -0.0024469 a flip, negative on a game that leans your way three hundred times in a row, and the crossing happens at 0.3894 rather than at 0.4. The article carries the exact median over 300 flips, 25 dollars to 10504.19 at the optimum and to 12.00 at double, the reason about 48 percent of overbettors still finish ahead anyway, and the place where the textbook approximation mean minus half the variance returns the opposite sign.
A die is rolled up to three times and you are paid the face you stop on. The reflex answer of 3.5 is the value of the same game with the right to stop deleted, and the real value is 14/3, reached by computing the game from its last roll backwards. The thresholds move as rolls run out, which is why a four is worth keeping late and worth rejecting early.
Every family averages exactly one girl and contains exactly one boy, so the ratio of expected counts is exactly one half and a large town splits evenly. The expected share inside a single family is not one half but ln 2, and it is still 0.5249 across ten families, with the excess falling off like one over four m.
The pile really does average exactly one dollar, which is why almost everyone answers one dollar and why the trap is a correct calculation of the wrong quantity. The play is worth two thirds, because the roll that ends the game pays on two of its three faces and that roll is independent of how big the pile grew.
A pebble climbing four boxes on coin flips needs 18/5 flips on average, and the two-line renewal argument that gives 4 is wrong. Its premise is true, since half of all games really do end on flip two, but the non-finishing half is two different states: tails-tails sends the pebble home while heads-heads leaves it on box 3, one flip from the exit and worth only 14/5.
Three and a half is the exact average of a plain die, which is why it survives being double-checked. The rule does not reweight six outcomes, it deletes one, leaving a uniform payoff on five faces and an answer of four. The procedure costs 1.2 rolls on average, and the version where the reroll is your choice is a different game worth 4.25.