The Galton Board

Every bead makes the same decision, over and over, with no memory and no plan. Out the bottom comes a bell curve.
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Click the board to drop a bead by hand

The apparatus

Observed vs. predicted

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Theory says the landing slot is Binomial(n, p): mean = n·p, standard deviation = √(n·p·(1−p)). The two columns should converge as beads pile up.

Bin counts

Why does randomness make such a tidy shape?

A bead hits a peg and goes left or right — a coin flip. It does that n times on the way down, then lands in a slot. Its slot number is simply how many times it went right. So the pile at the bottom isn't a picture of luck; it's a picture of the binomial distribution:

P(land in slot k) = C(n,k) · p^k · (1−p)^(n−k)

There is exactly one path to the far-left slot (left, left, left, …) and exactly one to the far right. But there are 924 different paths into the middle slot of a 12-row board. The middle isn't preferred — it's just enormously more reachable.

And the bell curve?

Turn the rows up to 22 and the jagged binomial melts into the smooth Gaussian curve drawn over it. That's the Central Limit Theorem: add up enough independent random nudges — any kind of nudges, they don't have to be coin flips — and the total is always approximately normal. It's the reason the bell curve turns up in heights, measurement error, test scores, and noise in your headphones. Nature adds a lot of small things together.

Try loading the coin

Push chance of going right to 70%. The pile slides right and gets narrower — a biased coin is a more predictable coin. Maximum uncertainty, and the widest pile, sits exactly at 50/50.

Sir Francis Galton built the original in the 1870s and called it the quincunx. He used it to argue about heredity; it has outlived the argument.