Guide a glowing paper dragon through the festival night, gathering lanterns and growing ever longer. One careless turn ends the parade.
Flip cards to match the creatures of the reef. Three depths of difficulty, a ticking clock, and a rain of bubbles when you clear the board.
A plump little firefly flits through swaying bamboo at dusk. The gaps get meaner as your score climbs — how far can your light carry?
Brush-drawn tic-tac-toe against the machine. The Apprentice fumbles, the Journeyman fights — the Master has never lost, and never will.
Drop sliding blocks to build from the city rooftops into the stars. Every mistimed tap trims your tower — perfect drops grow it back.
Excavate the desert dig site without waking what sleeps beneath. First dig is always safe; everything after that is on you.
Slide and merge base metals in the crucible — parchment to copper to bronze — chasing the one tile that gleams pure gold.
A glowing moth bounces endlessly up mushroom caps toward the moon. Springs launch you skyward — the amber caps crumble underfoot.
Shatter panes of frozen aurora with a comet orb and an ice sled. Catch falling capsules for a wider sled, split lights, or frosted time.
Mischievous wisps pop from hollow stumps in a moonlit grove — bonk them fast, chase golden ones, and whatever you do, spare the owl.
Six carvings to reveal the hidden rune-word. Stones flip green when true, amber when misplaced — the keyboard remembers what you've learned.
Thread a comet-glider through an ever-thickening asteroid field. Grazing rocks scores bonus points — collect shields and stardust to last longer.
A little flame lost in a hedge labyrinth, seeing only by its own light. Gather embers, follow the faint beacon, and find the archway — the maze grows every level.
Crystal tetrominoes fall through a dark cavern — rotate, slot, and shatter full seams. Hold pieces, read the queue, chase the four-line GEODE.
Runeword's evil twin. This stone never picks a word — it shifts to whichever answer dodges your guess best. Unlimited carvings; corner it in as few as you can.
A fox spirit sprints through the long night — leap the stone lanterns, duck the spirit birds, and run fast enough to watch the dawn break and fade again.
Four rune-stones, one set of carvings, nine strikes. Every guess lands on all four boards at once — the split keyboard remembers each stone separately.
A murder told entirely through a town encyclopedia in three printings. The Keeper is dead, the Everflame is dark — read the entries, notice what the revisions quietly changed, and accuse.
A ticking bomb covered in puzzle modules — cut the right wire, crack the keypad, echo the pads, time the release, order the sigils. Three strikes and the bay hears it.
One board, six rulebooks: Classic, Double Move, Fog of War, Gravity, Shuffled, and Extinction. Play a friend on one screen — or face the Sage, an AI that knows every variant's rules.