Practice English Speaking&Listening with: Game Theory: Can Chicken Nuggets SAVE YOUR LIFE?! | Kindergarten

Hello, Internet. Welcome

to Nugget Theory, where only those most

deserving of Nugget's wisdom are permitted to watch. All others will FEEL THE WRATH of the mighty theory Nugget!

(MatPat) Who're you? What are you doing in my recording closet?

Nugget will not forget this! Nugget away!

("Game Theory" Theme)

Hello, Internet! Welcome

to "Game Theory," the show that teaches you high school math by offing a school full of

Kindergarteners. "But MatPat," I hear you saying, "I've never even heard of a game like that.

Do you mean you're doing another episode on haunted animatronics?" And to that, I say NO! Not today!

Probably two episodes from now... No, today we're not killing kids in a haunted pizza restaurant. We're killing them on a family-friendly

playground. Truly, "Game Theory" is expanding its horizons. Loyal theorists, welcome to the world of

"Kindergarten," one of the best games of 2017 and

hands-down one of my favorite games we have ever covered on "GT Live."

Now, in case you missed it, shatter that "i" button in the upper right-hand corner of the screen

because there's a link to watch our play-through. To give you context though,

"Kindergarten" is the ultimate replayable child murder masterpiece of our time, an 8-bit "Life is Strange"

where you relive the same Monday over and over and over again,

attempting to figure out the right series of events to complete each

character's storyline.

Are you going to try to be the best boyfriend ever to popular girl Cindy by dumping a bucket of blood on another

classmate's head? Will you fall victim to Mr.

Sweepy as the Janitor tries to dispose of suspicious-looking bags in the bathroom?

Or are you going to unravel the mystery behind your fellow classmate Billy's disappearance?

Nugget misses Billy.

And then there's Nugget,

That's me!

the friendless weirdo who definitely smells like last night's pizza and kills off the class bully with a poisoned, processed chicken ball.

We all know a kid like this growing up, the one who eats the paste or, in the case of our game, digs a hole

behind the school that leads to a Satanic worship pit.

It is not for the worshipping of Satan! It is the Nugget Cave, reserved only for those who have proven their friendship to Nugget!

Well, whatever it's called, the giant hole in the ground dug into the school sandbox,

but here's the kicker--depending on how you played the game you'll either survive your jump into the Nugget Cave or (chuckle) not so much.

You want to find out? Sure. Are you going to kick me in--?

(thud!)

Jeez.

WHAT?!

The difference between you breaking your little kinder-head on the bottom of the Nugget Cave and actually surviving is this--

What's that? (laughs) (Steph) Poop a bunch of chicken nuggets.

Don't adjust the resolution of this YouTube video, you're seeing that right. That's a small child emptying his pants of

hundreds of chicken nuggets to break your fall when you jump, and it's moments like that, ladies and gentlemen, that make

"Kindergarten" one of the best games of 2017.

But now for the real question, and I bet you all know where this is headed--

Is this actually possible?

Can a giant pile of chicken nuggets actually make the difference between

surviving and not surviving a fall. Yes, loyal theorists,

that's what you clicked on this video to find out today. Forget Xbox 1x

and what framerate its games are going to be at, coming off of E3 THESE are the crucial questions

plaguing the gaming industry. So empty your pockets of processed chickeny goodness because we're about to dive headfirst into this theory

That sounds unwise, but Nugget will not stop you.

Thanks, Nugget. To get started, any falling object, unsuspecting Kindergartner or otherwise,

experiences acceleration due to gravity,

just like you learned in eighth grade physics. Accelerate too much, and when the ground suddenly comes up to meet you

you're going too fast to stop

safely. When you hit the ground, you're going from some speed to zero in a

fraction of a second, and the force of that stop is too much for your body to handle, so it breaks.

It's the classic saying of--

"It's not the fall that kills you, it's the sudden stop"

But that being said if there's something there to catch you, then you have a better shot of surviving.

That's why stuntmen land in giant airbags. Those airbags stretch out the time it takes to stop a body's momentum

to zero. The longer the period of time used in changing the momentum of the falling human, the less force that's going to be released

on the impact. Airbags work because they slow down the impact of the falling body by allowing the body to

displace a large volume of air. The greater the displacement, the slower the final impact and the less chance of injury. So, theoretically,

a similar principle could work with chicken nuggets. If you're landing on a big pillowy pile of processed chicken parts, the air,

moisture, and inherent

sponginess of the meat is going to spread out your force and give you more time to slow down than, say, the rock floor of

the Nugget Cave or at least in theory, that's what we hope. Which begs the question,

Just how good are chicken nuggets at acting like a pillow? Can they actually save you? And the most

important question of all, which dipping sauce should you bring when you hit the bottom?

Just kidding, that last one isn't even a question. It's Mulan SzeChuan dipping sauce!

And thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat's the way the news goes!

Now, you might be thinking that a rudimentary

8-bit game wouldn't give us enough information to figure any of this out,

but we actually have everything we need to solve this theory.

We know how long it takes for a

kindergartner to fall from the top to the bottom of the hole because we hear the thud when they hit the ground.

NOOOOO! NO, WE KILLED HER!!

Goodbye, Lilly.

No! (Aerith's theme plays) The pretty Lilly should not enter the Nugget Cave without my pillowy nugget cushion.

(music stops) Yeah, sucks to be her. So after timing out this horrific child's death, I was able to conclude that our fall time is 2.7 seconds

Since Lilly starts at a velocity of 0 and is accelerating only due to the force of gravity

which is 9.8 meters per second squared,

we're able to calculate that the depth of the nugget cave is 35.7 meters

35.7 meters is over one hundred feet, or ten stories high, which is a seriously impressive hole to be hand-dug by a

kindergartner during recesses using a tiny plastic shovel.

But based on that we can calculate our speed when we hit the bottom of the cave. It's almost

60 Miles per Hour; 96 Kilometers per hour.

This tells us right away that he's definitely going fast enough to die on impact.

NASA estimates that on average humans can technically survive an impact of up to

38 Miles per hour

But above that,

you're pretty much guaranteed to die instantly, and according to the Journal of Pediatric Surgery, the survival rate for children is 50%

once you start throwing them off of buildings that are five stories high.

Don't really know how they got those test results in, don't really want to know! It's for scieeeeeeeeeence!

And that's only five stories high. Our kindergartner is falling from twice that height. So yeah, Nugget,

I hope you're confident in the breaking power of your breaded pile of protein.

Dear MatPat, Nugget would not lie to you, (coldly) unless you betray Nugget's bond of friendship.

Now to figure out whether nuggets will break our fall,

we need to know how soft they are.

It turns out they need to be really soft. The maximum force your spine can take in a beat first fall is

23 Gs

before you start to crumble like a human accordion.

For context, when you go on a roller coaster, the max Gs that you feel is about 3 to 6, and when Apollo 16

re-entered Earth's

atmosphere, it only got up to 7 Gs. Right now when we jump straight down into the uncushioned Nugget Cave,

we're getting hit with almost

30 Gs of force at the bottom waaaay over the threshold to kill us! That means we need a lot of

cushioning, but can chicken nuggets actually do the job? To find out, we need to know how compressible chicken nuggets are.

Compressibility is basically how much give an object has when you put weight on it. Concrete, not very compressible, my love handles

sadly, very compressible--I uh I mean Rock-hard! I'm totally swole, bro! Can't spell fabulous without abulous!

Yeah, I just need to stop sitting on my butt writing episodes and do exercise.

So to test the compressibility of chicken nuggets, Steph

and I actually ran around town collecting nuggets from a variety of different restaurants. Once we had successfully creeped out every

drive-thru in a ten-mile radius by cleaning them out of their nugget supplies,

it was time to test the compressibility under different weight.

Gotta pay for some "nugs."

I hate myself for calling it nugs. Don't ever call it nugs.

(Steph) No, never.

Based on those calculations, I was able to plot out the squishability of chicken nuggets in this very professional-looking graph. Oooh!

We didn't even bother to label the axis. Man,

that would be, like, twenty points off if this was graded. The first thing you'll notice here is that chicken nuggets aren't created equal.

Wendy's nuggets are far and away the softest and best for compression. Meanwhile, McDonald nuggets have a hard outer crust

that's way too solid and barely compresses at all. So we know right off the bat if we're going for softness,

we're reaching for Wendy's and not the old Mcdo. Don't worry, McDonald's, your barbecue

sauce is still my favorite because you're literally right around the corner from where I live, just going to you first.

That's just laziness.

I also found out from our field tests that chicken nuggets have a weird

inflection point where you get just the right amount of weight to squish the nugget down, usually around five pounds,

but then after that most of the compression is done, no matter how much more weight you add to them. This presents

some serious problems. The thing about chicken nuggets

Is that, you know, they're a bunch of small, flat patties of meat, and unlike packing peanuts, airbags, or even

plastic balls in a ball pit, they don't scatter, and they're not filled with a lot of air that you can compress.

I mean, sure, they give you a little bit,

but even a stack of a hundred nuggets only sinks a few inches. It turns out that the harder you hit them with the weight, the

more they just become one massive,

congealed lump of smushed

nugget brick. Plus, as you begin to add more and more nuggets to the top of the pile, those nuggets start to weigh down the

nuggets on the bottom, basically negating all the compression room that we wanted to have ready to catch our fall in the first place.

So after extrapolating these graphs out to include stacks of hundreds, or even thousands of nuggets,

you start to see a disturbing pattern emerge. Instead of creating a soft pillow of nuggets to catch our fall,

we've just created a greasy, meaty floor with a little bit of give but not enough to slow our

toddler hurtling towards the ground at sixty miles an hour. Even if the stack was

five hundred nuggets tall by adding twenty-one inches of

compressible nugget goodness for landing, you'd still only be reducing that force from 30 Gs to

27. That means that even

incredibly tall stacks of nuggets aren't going to compress to break the fall enough for us to survive, and THAT'S

kind of a bummer really. I'm usually all about finding a way to make the physics of these things work out,

but in this case you have to remember you're jumping out of a ten-story window into a pile of formerly frozen meat.

So is the Nugget Cave an impossibility then? Is Nugget forever cursed, never to enter his beloved nugget hideout ever again?

Well, not so fast there, my nuggety friend. You might not be able to break your fall with chicken nuggets,

but if you take this whole experiment to its extreme, and let's face it, that the whole point in "Game Theory"

in the first place,

then there is

technically a way that the nuggets could save you. Instead of cushioning your fall, what you'd actually need is enough nuggets to make your fall

shorter, a pile of nuggets so tall that it lessens your fall distance to a point that you're no longer

hitting speeds that result in deadly deceleration.

But just how many will you need?

Dear viewer, comment below "I need nugget" then tap Subscribe to join the Theorists

Can you do both those things in under three seconds? Nugget would like to see you try! Ready? 3, 2, 1!

Impressive. Perhaps you are worthy of Nugget's friendship after all.

Now as we've established our Nugget Cave is

117 feet or 35.7 meters deep and results in us traveling at 60 miles per hour or 96.5

kilometers per hour at impact. We also know that

technically we can survive a fall that gets us up to speeds of 38 miles per hour or 61

kilometers an hour.

After running some numbers, we were able to calculate that our maximum fall distance to stay under that speed has to be less than

14.2 meters or less than 46.5 feet,

basically the equivalent of a 4 1/2 story building.

That is still rather high.

Sure, it is. You don't see me jumping off a four-story building, but it is technically survivable.

So if we can stack nuggets high enough, we can just land on top of the big pile and slide the rest of the way

down. This means that we need a stack of chicken nuggets

73 feet tall, a literal

mountain of nuggets! An average nugget is 0.5. inches thick, meaning you'd need a stack of nuggets

1,772 nuggets high just to get to a survivable height.

But that's just talking about a single column of nuggets.

Obviously, you need a pile of nuggets wide enough to catch you.

Naturally, a pile of nuggets will fall into the shape of a cone, and believe it or not, there is actual,

documented science that you can use to help find the dimensions of this fictional 2,000 nugget-high chicken cone.

You can find the shape of this chicken cone by using what's known as its angle of repose.

Whenever you create a pile of some substance--grain,

gravel, breaded fast-food goodness, it tends to form the same style of cone every time. All of these cones

have a standard angle of repose,

basically how steep the sides of the cones made from that material are. For the theory today,

I decided to use bark as the stand-in for chicken nuggets because of its similar weight and thicker more oblong shapes,

also

because wood chips are often called nuggets. That gave me an angle of repose of 45 degrees. Armed with that information and some simple

trigonometry, we can calculate the radius and then the volume of the cone which is--get this--almost

12,000 cubic meters of chickeny delight! That is nearly three million

gallons of nuggets! But then, how many

individual nuggets is that huge number translate to? Well, if you divide this total volume by the volume of one chicken nugget, which is

3.5 times 10 to the -5th cubic meters, in case you were curious, you get the grand

total nugget count to save your life of

Three hundred forty million, eight hundred thousand chicken nuggets!

That is almost

350 million chicken nuggets as the minimum number to get us to survive our fall into Nugget's cave!

And if that number seems big to you think about it this way, we're talking about a cone of nuggets

that is as tall as a six-story building.

Nugget's pants are not equipped to handle that.

Well, I'd say your pants are the least of your worries there, buddy.

I bet your WALLET isn't built to handle it either. Buying that many nuggets, even at Burger King's

steal of a deal at $1.50 per ten-piece nugget box, you'd be spending over

51 million dollars

on chicken flippin nuggets!

Nugget cannot afford that! Nugget has been saving up for Monty's Monstermon card to give to the pretty Lily.

Well, then there you have it, Nugget, STOP DIGGING SUCH DEEP HOLES! But most importantly of all

remember, that's just a theory!

(Nugget) A Game Theory! Thanks for watching!

And be a friend to Nugget and subscribe, please.

After everyone at school dying, Nugget needs some new friends. Don't leave Nugget alone!

Tap icon in the center of your screen. Give it a little tap. Tap it. Tap it!

And hey, if this theory got you interested in

"Kindergarten" the game, check out our "Gt. Live" play-through by tap tap tapping the button on your left. Now, if you'll excuse me

I need to go eat a salad. See you next week!