🎲 Predicely

Place a bet and roll the die. Every roll has a 1-in-6 chance of busting (rolling a 1) — bust and you lose your bet. Survive a roll and your potential payout grows by ~20%. Bank anytime to lock in your current payout — the longer you push your luck, the bigger the prize, but the odds of busting never change.

Pair in a row	value × 2 (orange bracket)
Triple in a row	value × 6 (magenta bracket)
Rows must touch	3 3 2 scores · 5 1 5 does not

Stack matching dice in a column to multiply their value — but beware: when an opponent places that same value in the same column (✕, ◯ or ▲), your matching dice are knocked off your board and returned to your hand, and you'll have to place them all over again. The game ends the moment any player places their last die — highest total score wins.

Five white dice are your flock and the sixth — the Dog — decides what you may put in the pen. Your pen is a poker hand, and points are relative: the best hand at the table takes the player count, the next one less.

After every roll you may pen either any number of flock dice matching the Dog exactly, or one set of flock dice that adds up to the Dog's number. One route per roll — never both, and never a mix.

Once you have penned something you may stop (your pen is your hand) or roll again — every flock die still outside the pen, plus the Dog.

Pen nothing — because you cannot, or because you choose not to — and a sheep wanders off: you lose one white die and must roll on. You never get to stop after a roll you did not pen on. Lose your last white die and the whole pen is lost, and you score nothing this round.

A penned 2 is the black sheep and is wild — it counts as any number when your hand is scored. The only way to pen one is a Dog showing 2; out in the field a 2 is just a 2 for adding.

Ties are broken, not shared: higher dice win, kickers count (3-3-2 beats 3-3 — a kicker is better than nothing), and an exact tie goes to whoever went earlier in the round. That is why the FIRST marker moves round the table each round.

Six numbered venues, each holding a stack of money notes. You have eight dice a round and there are four rounds. The venues are restocked every round, and the most money wins.

Roll every die you have left, pick one value, and commit every die showing it to the venue with that number. You cannot split them and you cannot hold them back — three 4s means three dice go to venue 4. You are out when your dice are gone.

⏳ Nothing is destroyed until the round ends. Venues resolve once, after everyone has spent all their dice — so a tie on the board is a forecast, not a fact. The TIE flag and the struck-through rows show you what would happen if the round ended right now.

Which means a tie can be broken. If you are level with someone, one more die at that venue puts you clear again — and both piles come back to life, so they take the next note down rather than nothing. The reverse is just as true: they can answer, and you can end up level again. A tie you create late, when they have no dice left or no way to roll that value, is the one that sticks.

When the round finally does resolve: any piles level on the same number of dice are all destroyed — two, three, however many are level. Of the piles still standing, the largest takes the top note, the next takes the next, until that venue's notes run out.

The piles that survive are then ranked among themselves, so a survivor is promoted: wipe the two biggest piles and the third-biggest takes the top note. What goes unclaimed is the venue's lowest notes, because fewer piles are left than the venue has notes to hand out.

That is what makes a tie a weapon and a risk: your own pile dies with theirs, so you win nothing there — and the note you denied them is handed to whoever is next in line, who may not be you.

Every value key is priced before you touch it: WIPES in red if committing there would tie your own pile out, a note value if your pile would take one, or NO NOTE if it would not. Selecting a value draws the incoming dice into the venue as dashed outlines and re-runs the standing live, so you never have to count piles in your head.

At a two-player table you each also get four neutral dice a round. They roll and commit with your own, and every neutral die at a venue joins one shared pile that scores for nobody — but it ranks, and it can tie you out.

Why: with only two players, a tie between the two of you costs you both exactly the same, so it could never change anybody's decision. The neutral pile can tie out one of you without touching the other, which is what puts the rule back in the game.

Everyone antes into a pot. Each player gets three rolls of five dice, and the highest cargo takes the lot.

You must secure a 6 (the Ship), then a 5 (the Captain), then a 4 (the Crew) — strictly in that order. Secured dice are set aside and the rest are re-rolled.

A 5 or a 4 counts for nothing until the Ship is secured. Dice struck through in red are dice you cannot use yet — tap one and it will tell you why.

Securing happens automatically the moment a die shows the face you need. There is no choice to make there: taking the die you need is never worse than leaving it, so the game takes it for you.

Once all three are secured, your last two dice are the cargo — add them together, so 2 to 12. Spend a leftover roll to re-roll both cargo dice, or keep what you have and end the turn.

Miss any of the three and you score nothing at all. That happens about 46% of the time, so a zero is ordinary rather than a disaster.

Highest cargo takes the pot. When two or more players are level on the highest cargo, only those players roll off — everyone else is done.

If nobody launched, every seat is level on zero, so every seat rolls off. It is the same rule, not a special case — and heads-up it is the common one.

In seat order, two dice, once each. No securing, no Ship/Captain/ Crew, no second roll. Highest sum takes the whole pot. Level again and the roll-off repeats between whoever is still level, as many rounds as it takes.

Eleven columns, numbered 2 to 12. Column 7 is the tallest because 7 is the easiest sum to roll; 2 and 12 are three cells high because they are the hardest. Claim three columns and you win.

Roll four dice. They pair up three ways, and each pairing gives you two sums — three cards, one per pairing. Pick a card and you advance on those two columns.

You must play as many of your card’s two sums as you legally can — and when only one of them can be played, you choose which: that card reads PICK ONE and both of its sums are tappable.

Tap a card to see where it would put you — the board lights up the destination cells and their column numbers — then tap it again to play it.

A runner is a temporary marker — the pale ring on the board. You get three per turn, and they only exist during that turn.

The first time you play a column this turn, a runner goes there. Playing that same column again just moves the runner already on it — it does not cost a second one. So three runners means at most three different columns per turn, however many times you roll.

A sum is playable if you already have a runner on that column, or if you still have a spare runner to place. Once all three are out, every other column is locked for the rest of this turn — that is what a dead sum means when it says NO RUNNER. If a roll gives you nothing but locked columns, you bust.

Runners are not a cap on how much of the board you can own. They reset every turn: stop, and they turn into permanent markers and you get all three back. Over a match your permanent progress can sit on all eleven columns — the limit of three is only ever about one turn.

If no pairing gives you any legal move at all, you BUST and lose every step you gained this turn. Everything you banked on earlier turns is untouched.

Stop and this turn’s steps become permanent. A runner that stops on the top cell claims that column, closing it to everyone — including anyone part-way up it.

Reaching the top and claiming are two different moments. A runner on the summit owns nothing until you stop; a bust takes it like any other step.

The gauge is the exact share of the 1296 possible rolls that would kill your turn from where you stand — STEADY, DICEY, RISKY, BRUTAL.

While you still have a runner spare it is close to nothing, because almost any sum can start a new column. The moment all three are committed it jumps: the easiest three columns to hold still bust 8% of the time, and the hardest set in the game busts 56%. Cheap now, expensive later — that is the whole game.

One 6×6 minefield, shared by the whole table. Dig safe cells to build an unbanked pile — and decide when to stop, because a mine takes all of it.

Dig one cell at a time, as many as you dare. A safe cell shows how many mines touch it and adds to your pile; hitting a mine wipes the pile and ends your turn on the spot.

Bank at any moment and the pile becomes score, permanently. You have 10 seconds per dig — the clock refreshes on every dig, so a long run is never cut short, and running it out banks for you rather than busting.

One row and one column are lit. A dig on a lit line scores 2, the cell where they cross scores 3, and everything else scores 1.

The lines move every turn to a new row and column, and only undug tiles light up — a line that has been dug out has nothing left to offer.

A match is one board per player, and each player opens one of them. Before every board everyone rolls a die: the board takes 8 + the average pip mines, so 9 to 14 on 36 cells.

Highest total after the last board wins. Ties share the placement — there is no tiebreaker round.

Boards are generated honestly: there is no guaranteed-safe first click and no filtering out boards that need a guess. Busting on your very first dig is possible, and happens on about a third of boards.

That is deliberate. If logic always sufficed, a careful player would never bust and there would be no decision left to make — the forced guess is the game.

A Scandinavian stick-dice race-and-capture game. Three rows, 12 · 13 · 12, the middle one always a hole longer. Twelve pegs a side, all of them asleep in their own row. There is no finish line: you win by taking all twelve of your opponent's pegs.

Two four-sided dice, reading 1 – 4. A 1 is the dal, and a dal is the only thing that can wake a sleeping peg: it turns the peg upright and moves it one hole. A peg that is still asleep cannot move at all. Throw no dal with nothing awake and the throw is simply lost — which is 9 of the 16 opening throws.

On the board, an awake peg points the way it is going and an asleep peg lies across its row.

You must use both dice if it is possible to use both — either on two different pegs, or as a single move of the sum on one peg. Only if no pairing at all is legal may you spend just one; only if nothing is legal do you lose the throw.

The sum matters more than it looks. Because a pair spent on one peg is one move, it leaps clean over your own pegs — which is why five of your twelve can move on the opening throw even though a bare dal wakes only one.

Tap one of your glowing pegs and every hole it can reach lights up at once, each one drawn with the die it would spend — one die, the other, or both together for the long move. Tap a hole to assign that move; tap the assigned hole again to take just that one back. When both dice are spent, Play.

Your pegs run your own row to the stern, fold into the middle row and run it to the prow, fork into your opponent's row and run that to the stern, then back into the middle, round and round. A peg never returns to its own home row, and there is nowhere for it to finish. Both of you travel the middle row the same way.

You may pass over anyone on the way — your own pegs and hers alike. Only the hole you land on matters:

• Land on your own peg — not allowed.
• Land exactly on one of your opponent's: taken, permanently — it never re-enters the board.
• Pass over one without landing — nothing happens to it.

There are no safe holes. A peg still asleep in its own home row can be taken like any other.

The Norwegian daldøsa, 12 + 13 + 12. The Danish game is 16 + 17 + 16 and is not built yet, though nothing in the code assumes twelve. Where the sources genuinely disagree — whether a friendly peg blocks a passing one — we follow the more rules-detailed of them and allow the pass.

▶ Show the three-card walkthrough

A spatial roll-and-write on a 6 × 6 grid. Seven rounds; every round rolls four dice and everyone draws all four on their own grid, at the same time, from the same roll. Nothing your opponent does can touch your grid — you are racing them, not blocking them.

Pick a die, turn it with ↺ ↻, then tap a highlighted square. A piece is legal only where it joins an existing route end or one of the eight edge exits — and road only meets road, rail only meets rail. The board rings every legal square for the piece at its current rotation, so turning it changes what lights up.

Nothing is committed until you press the button under the board, and Undo takes back a placement within the round — never across one.

Road is a solid band with a dashed centre line. Rail is a ladder of sleepers on a thin spine. They are told apart by shape before colour, because which network a route belongs to is a placement rule.

They meet in exactly one place: a station, drawn as a chip over the junction. An overpass looks similar and is not — it carries the road over the rail without joining them.

You get three special pieces for the game and may spend at most one per round. A slot stamped spent is gone for good; one stamped next round is still yours — you have just used this round's.

• The exits your single largest network reaches — two are worth 4, and every exit after that is worth 4 more, up to 28 for all eight.
• Your longest continuous road, one point a square.
• Your longest continuous rail, one point a square.
• −2 for every route that runs off the board where there is no exit.

That last one is the reverse of what this genre usually does, and it is deliberate: the board edge is a wall, not a free escape, and that is what makes the last round tight. A dead end inside the grid costs you nothing — only the wall charges. Expect to see the −2 chip about once a game.

Two fleets, two 8 × 8 grids, and neither of you can see the other's. Sink all five of their ships — 4 / 3 / 3 / 2 / 2, fourteen cells — before they sink yours. Ships may not touch when they are placed.

Roll 2d6 first. That total is your budget. Then take your free shot and spend the pips, in any order you like — knowing the budget before you aim is the whole point of rolling first.

The free shot happens every turn, no exceptions. You cannot end a turn without it, and that is not a nag: it is the reason the game is guaranteed to end. Unspent pips are lost — there is no carry-over.

• Scan · 3 — a count of ship cells under a 3 × 3. A number, not locations, and it clears no fog at all. Its centre must sit one cell in from the edge, so the 3 × 3 is always fully on the board — which does mean the rim cannot be scanned. The badge counts down as you land hits inside the zone and retires once it has nothing left to tell you; the cyan frame stays. It is a snapshot, so it will not notice a ship leaving the zone — a stale number is the price of the fog cutting both ways.
• Extra shot · 4 — one more tile.
• Reposition · 5 — slide one of your ships one cell, any of the four directions, no turning.
• Salvo · 8 — three shots in a straight line. Click SALVO again to turn the line. A line that would run off the board is not offered; it is never quietly slid inward.

Their water is under cloud, and only shooting clears it — permanently. A cleared tile shows its own contents and nothing more: a hull fragment is cropped hard to the tile, with no bow, no stern and no heading. You do not learn a ship's size until she sinks.

The cloud never lifts over a tile you have not paid for. That is a property of how it is drawn, not a setting — the picture always arrives one step behind what you already know, never ahead of it.

A tile you have fired on is watched forever. If one of their ships slides into it, you see her — a sighting, not a hit. She takes no damage, but she is standing in your open water and you may fire on that tile again. That is the only way a fleeing ship ever dies, so it matters.

The reverse is also true: empty water you have already cleared cannot be fired on. There is nothing there to hit, and refusing the click costs you nothing — no shot, no pips, no turn. A salvo whose line crosses such water is still perfectly legal; those cells simply do nothing.

A ship on her last heart is crippled and cannot move. The moment you knock her down to one, she stops being slippery — finish her before she slips away, because until then she can.

And it cuts both ways on your water: the brass reticles are the tiles they have fired on, and they are permanent. Slide a ship onto one and they will see her. Plan your repositions around them.

The opponent's layout is committed at the start of the game and its hash goes in your log before your first shot; the fleet is revealed at the end. It shows that the fleet you were shooting at is the fleet that was always there — it did not shuffle itself out of your way.

Five gears, each a different die. One, two or three laps, and one fuse of six wear a lap that never refills. First car over the line wins.

Pick a gear and roll its die — you move that many spaces. You may only go up one gear a turn, but you may drop as far as you like: dropping one gear is free, and every extra gear you skip costs one wear each. So 4th→3rd is free, 4th→2nd costs 1, 4th→1st costs 2.

The low gears are not evenly weighted — 2nd reads 2,3,3,4,4,4 and 3rd reads 4,5,6,6,7,7,8,8, so both lean toward the top of their range.

A corner is three spaces marked with a stop count. You have two ways through it, and both are legal:

Stop for it. End a turn inside the corner and you bank a stop. Bank as many as the corner asks for and you drive out of it for nothing.

Or don't, and pay. You may run straight through at any speed. It costs one wear for every space past the corner's last space — overshoot the exit by four and it costs four.

Worth knowing: that bill does not care about the stop count. Blowing through a three-stop corner costs exactly what blowing through a one-stop corner costs. The stop count only prices the slow way — a three-stop corner is expensive to obey, not to break.

If a corner hands you a bill you cannot pay, you spin out: what is left of your fuse is gone, you end up at that corner's last space in first gear, and you sit out four turns.

And with an empty fuse you are stuck in whatever gear you were in, because dropping two gears costs wear you no longer have. Getting home from there means stopping at every corner.

You cannot share a space. Land on an occupied one and you drop back to the nearest free space behind it — so a slow car in front of you is a real obstacle, and it matters more the fuller the grid.

Every club is a different die, and choosing which one to roll is the move. Fewest strokes wins.

The longer the club, the wider it scatters — the driver is the biggest number and the least control, which is the whole trade.

So the bar above says: two faces reach the green, one is bunkered, and the mis-hit leaves it well short. Count the pips in the colour you don't want — that is the club's risk, and it's why the row also prints it in words.

Water is stroke and distance, which is why laying up is often the right answer. It is the one hazard worth taking a shorter club to avoid.

Inside 60 yards there is no full shot left, so the wedge becomes a chip; on the green the putter plays the same way. Both scale to what's left, and the bag prints their real numbers every shot. A putt that finishes within a foot drops; within three, it's conceded.

A roll with no scoring dice at all is a Farkle — you bust and lose the bet. Set aside any complete scoring combo, then roll the rest or bank your points. Setting aside all 6 dice gives you a fresh 6 ("hot dice") with your score carried over.

You play the house, not the other players. Every coin you win is paid by the dealer and every coin you lose goes back to it — nothing ever moves between players. At a shared table each seat settles with the dealer on its own, so the standings are a scoreboard, not a payout: finishing top of the table wins you bragging rights and XP, never anybody else's coins.

Your rounds add up into a session — one sitting at the table. Coins settle after every round as they always have; XP is paid once, when you finish up, and it scales with how the whole session went. Hit 💵 Finish up between rounds to close it out and see the summary. Walking away up is the one decision here the dice don't make for you.

13 turns, one per category. Each turn: roll 5 dice, hold any you want to keep, and reroll the rest — up to 3 rolls total — then commit the hand to any open category. Payout is continuous: payout = floor(bet × finalScore / 190) — 190 is "par" (1 coin per point at that bet), so scoring above 190 turns a profit.

Your final score is (45 − sum of tiles left open), plus 10 if you shut the whole box. Payout is continuous: payout = floor(bet × finalScore / 35) — 35 is "par", so a final score above 35 turns a profit.

Bets come off your balance as you place them and wins are paid straight back — the felt shows each zone's payout. A Pass bet rides once the point is on: finish the hand before cashing out. The free table plays with a play bank instead — no coins move, no XP.

Hand rankings, strongest first: Five of a Kind · Four of a Kind · Full House · Straight · Three of a Kind · Two Pair · One Pair · High Die. Tap the i in the table header any time for the sheet with examples.

A solo table plays with play chips — no coins move either way. You still earn XP for the table. Real coins are a multiplayer thing, where the pot moves chips between players instead of minting them.

Sends instantly — your opponent sees it as a live speech bubble.

Sends instantly — your opponent sees it as a live speech bubble.

Sends instantly — your opponent sees it as a live speech bubble.

Each roll gives you two moves — four on doubles. You may land on any point that is empty, yours, or holds exactly one enemy checker; two or more enemy checkers block it. Landing on a lone enemy checker sends it to the bar, and while you have a checker on the bar you must bring it back before doing anything else. Once all fifteen of your checkers are home you can bear them off: an exact roll always works, and a bigger roll only bears off from your farthest-back point. If there is any way to play both numbers you must, and if only one can be played it has to be the higher one — the board only ever highlights moves that obey this, so you can't get it wrong. No doubling cube in this version.

Hover a piece (or your "Not played" stack) to preview exactly where it will land. The centre column is the only shared lane — that's where captures happen. First to get all seven pieces home wins.