Fable
The scoring ruler on the firing range
At the archery range outside the city, archers were trained; in early years they only looked at whether the arrow hit the target. A hit was rewarded, a miss was punished. The apprentices quickly learned to report good news and not bad; an arrow off to the edge of the target and an arrow off beyond the wall were both called "miss" in the accounts.
The master thought more practice would be enough, so he added arrows every day. With more arrows, progress slowed. Some people always drifted left, some lacked strength, and some, to preserve their "hit rate," only shot at the nearest small target, then missed in the real competition. Worse, the apprentices began to exploit loopholes in the ruler. As long as an arrow grazed the outer ring it counted as a hit, so they preferred to shoot conservatively at the edge rather than dare to truly approach the bullseye.
An old bowmaker brought a scoring ruler. An arrow one inch from the bullseye lost one point; drifting into the danger zone lost ten points; and if an arrow was close but always off in direction, the deviation was recorded separately. Each arrow was no longer just success or failure, but a comparable gap.
The apprentice was at first unconvinced: both missed, so why does one lose three points and another twenty? The old bowyer had them look at the target sheets. A near miss and a completely wrong direction require different next steps in training; if the ruler cannot show the difference, practice will only thrash about. The deduction ruler was also too simple at first, measuring only distance. Later, in a hunting drill, an arrow landed not far from the bullseye but off toward the crowd, and only then did the master give separate extra weight to dangerous directions.
Later the archery range swapped out its measuring stick several more times. When practicing hunting, shooting low was more dangerous than shooting high; when practicing performance, even tiny deviations near the bullseye were heavily penalized. As the scoring rules changed, the archers' draw strength and aiming habits changed along with them.
Only then did the master realize that the ruler was not post-match bookkeeping; it was quietly telling every archer where to adjust. A good deduction ruler turns mistakes into direction; a bad ruler rewards gaming and can even train people crooked. Every time a ruler was changed, the archery range would first test it for a few rounds. If the ruler taught apprentices to slack off, or punished small mistakes more heavily than big ones, the master knew the ruler itself needed fixing.
In the end, the shooting range hung the ruler at the entrance: whatever error you make more expensive, apprentices will avoid first. The direction of training is often hidden in the scoring rules.