Ten games. One HTML file each.
No server, no accounts, no saves.

A text adventure set in the sublevels of a building where the cable runs go a great deal further down than the floor plan admits. Twenty six rooms, ten artifacts to recover, and a PDP-11/70 front panel you have to cold start by hand at address 173700 before anything below B7 will cooperate.

Play by typing or by clicking, whichever you prefer. A perfect run is 350 points and takes most people about an hour.

Five shells a round, birds that get quicker every time you clear one, and a hunting partner with no sense of tact. Miss, and he pops out from behind the nearest bush to say something encouraging about your aim before ducking back down.

Rounds keep escalating until you have missed five times. Scenery rotates between an open field, the shore of a lake, and a boat out on the water.

You are driving the MVD-88 SUNWEDGE against a countdown clock across eight courses: PALM STRIP, TIMBER PASS, NEON GRID, RED MESA RUN, SPEEDWAY 500, MIRAGE FLATS, THUNDER RIDGE, and AURORA COAST. Clear a CHRONO GATE to buy more time. Clip a tree and lose two seconds you did not have to spare.

Scenery and time of day change every round, traffic gets meaner as you go, and three chiptunes ride along: CRUISE CONTROL, REDLINE FEVER, and MIDNIGHT MIRAGE.

Turn-based artillery on a landscape that is never the same twice. Choose an angle, choose a power, allow for the wind, and try to put a shell on the other tank before it puts one on you. The terrain is generated fresh for every match.

The weapons and the tank designs are original to this version, and the computer opponent is perfectly willing to take the shot you just wasted.

A BBS door game that never actually existed. Declare yourself King or Queen, take a name, and face a rival crown whose monarchs and strategy are generated fresh for every game. Between rounds the Herald reads out where things stand.

All ANSI block art and 8-bit sound, with animated cut scenes for the opening, the turns, and whichever ending you earn. The opponent plays differently every time, but the crown is always winnable.

A chicken who would frankly rather be sitting down. Tap to flap, thread the gaps, and watch the run end in a very 1995 way. The obstacle course is generated fresh each time, so there is no pattern to memorize.

Built to look like it came off a Pentium 75 running Windows 95, beveled edges and all, right down to the title bar it insists on drawing around itself.

Twenty two card games in one page, each listed under the name people actually call it. “Klondike Solitaire”, “FreeCell”, “Spider” and “Pyramid” if you want a quiet hour on your own. “Blackjack”, “Baccarat”, “Pai Gow Poker”, “Casino War”, “Texas Hold’em”, “Seven Card Stud” and “Five Card Draw” if you want the floor. “Hearts”, “Spades”, “Euchre”, “Bridge”, “Cribbage”, “Gin Rummy”, “Go Fish”, “Crazy Eights”, “Old Maid”, “War” and “Speed” for everyone else.

The rules are the real ones, and where a game is played more than one way there is a selector for it: draw one or draw three, dealer stands or hits soft seventeen, five card majors or four, Spider at one, two or four suits. Every table keeps its own rules sheet in a drawer you can open mid hand. The deck, the interlocking MV card back, the five chiptunes and the man in the very good jacket who turns up when you owe the house money were all built for this.

Twenty six games built on wheels and dice, each listed under the name people actually call it. “Roulette”, “Craps”, “Sic Bo”, “Baccarat”, “Keno”, “Bingo”, a mechanical “Slot Machine” and the “Big Six” money wheel for the floor. “Backgammon” with acey-deucey and Greek plakoto, and “Liar’s Dice”, “Farkle”, “Yacht”, “Shut the Box”, “Pig”, “Left Center Right”, “Ship Captain Crew” and “Bunco” for a table full of people. “Hazard”, “Crown and Anchor”, “Chuck-a-Luck”, “Under and Over Seven”, “Boule”, “Mini Roulette”, “Cee-lo”, “Barbotte” and “Klondike” for everyone who likes their games older and stranger.

The rules are the real ones and the arithmetic is checked rather than asserted: every payout was verified against the true odds before the game shipped, and each table prints its own house edge in its rules drawer. Roulette holds exactly 2.70% European and 5.26% American. The slot reels are physical strips returning a measured 93.5%. Barbotte is dead even, which is why it takes a commission instead. Where a game is played more than one way there is a selector: la partage or en prison, crapless craps, 3-4-5x or 100x odds, 75 ball or 90 ball, Nackgammon or plakoto, Macau or Las Vegas pay tables.

Two halls under one roof, each listed under the name people actually call it. “Checkers” in the near hall, from the kitchen table game through the 10x10 tournament board to Turkish dama played on every square. “Chess” in the far one, with the whole rulebook and the offshoots people actually play: Chess960, King of the Hill, Three-check, Antichess, Atomic and Horde.

Five difficulty levels apiece, from a beginner who hangs pieces to an opponent that thinks to the limit of the clock. Every rule set keeps its own rules drawer you can open mid game, a forced double jump still finishes in one click, and a friend can take the other seat and pass the mouse. The chess move generator was checked against published perft counts before it shipped, so castling, en passant and promotion behave the way the rulebook says.

A room of sixteen video slot machines built to the rules of an Illinois video gaming terminal rather than a casino floor. The state caps a wager at four dollars and caps the cash award for a single play at $1,199, and both of those are enforced here rather than decorated: the bet steps trim themselves as you climb denominations, and any play that reaches the ceiling locks the reels, lights the candle and pages an attendant for a handpay you have to sign for. Twelve of the sixteen can pass that number. One of them, a three reeler, is built so its top award lands on it exactly.

No two machines work the same way. Ways games and cascading grids that grow as they tumble, a hold and spin with four progressive tiers, sticky wilds that never thaw, a symbol chosen at the start of a run that fills every reel it lands on, pick bonuses and a prize wheel, and a machine where every symbol keeps a pot that only a clean five of a kind can take. Each one publishes a PAR sheet, and the numbers on it were measured over a quarter of a million spins on the strips that shipped, by a harness that runs the same code the cabinet runs.