Frame0
Spite0
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Grievance—
Move to set your stance · drag back to throw · steer while it rolls
FrameF1 B1
Speed—
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Entry—
Angle—
Knocked—
Rat KingThirty years. Thirty years of this.
Grievance cards. Between frames the regiment's union files a complaint and you pick which of three you can live with. Each rewrites one rule for one frame: bumpers over the gutters, a coffee cart parked mid-lane, the whole deck lurching as one, nobody dodging at all. They are not all upside, and that is the point: the card you take is a bet on the frame you think you're about to have.
The Spite Multiplier. Pins taunt while your globe rolls. Cut one off mid-sentence and you bank spite on top of your frame score, and each further pin you silence on the same throw is worth much more than the last: 1, then 4, then 10, then 19. Your frame score stays pure ten-pin, so a 300 is still a 300. Spite is the game paying you for listening. You have to actually interrupt them, though. Catch someone on the last syllable and it does not count. A talking pin also reacts a beat late, so the loudest one on the deck is the easiest to hit. Two in one roll is where the points are.
Stance. The globe follows your mouse along the foul line before you throw, in boards 1 to 39, like a real lane. Stand right, aim left, let the hook bring it back to the pocket. On a phone, the spot you tap is where you stand.
No mouse? The arrow keys walk your stance along the foul line, hold
Who dodges how. The roster on the right tracks all ten: who is still standing, who is talking, and how each of them moves. Crackenbury (1) flinches late. Wick (7) will not move at all, out of contempt. Pipsqueak (3) wants to be hit and dodges into the ball. Nut and Cracker (8, 9) lurch together. Sprocket (10) throws one false tell before the real one, and he is why a clean rack is hard.
The daily lane. Everyone who plays on a given day gets the same regiment in the same mood: the same three grievance cards offered in the same order, the same pins talking at the same moment, the same scattered deadwood. That is what makes a score worth sending to somebody. Come back tomorrow and the regiment remembers: the game keeps your best of the day, your all-time best, and how many days running you have shown up. Switch to free play if you would rather just bowl, and the lane goes back to being different every time.
The incident report. At the end of the tenth the regiment files a complaint about you, and you can copy it out, or send it straight on if your device has a share sheet: the frame strip in the same notation as the board above the lane, who you silenced and how many times, your best cut-off, and how often you found the ditch.
The dial that matters. Under
The Spite Multiplier. Pins taunt while your globe rolls. Cut one off mid-sentence and you bank spite on top of your frame score, and each further pin you silence on the same throw is worth much more than the last: 1, then 4, then 10, then 19. Your frame score stays pure ten-pin, so a 300 is still a 300. Spite is the game paying you for listening. You have to actually interrupt them, though. Catch someone on the last syllable and it does not count. A talking pin also reacts a beat late, so the loudest one on the deck is the easiest to hit. Two in one roll is where the points are.
Stance. The globe follows your mouse along the foul line before you throw, in boards 1 to 39, like a real lane. Stand right, aim left, let the hook bring it back to the pocket. On a phone, the spot you tap is where you stand.
No mouse? The arrow keys walk your stance along the foul line, hold
space to wind up and let go to throw, and the arrows steer the globe once it is rolling. Same two decisions, no pointer required.Who dodges how. The roster on the right tracks all ten: who is still standing, who is talking, and how each of them moves. Crackenbury (1) flinches late. Wick (7) will not move at all, out of contempt. Pipsqueak (3) wants to be hit and dodges into the ball. Nut and Cracker (8, 9) lurch together. Sprocket (10) throws one false tell before the real one, and he is why a clean rack is hard.
The daily lane. Everyone who plays on a given day gets the same regiment in the same mood: the same three grievance cards offered in the same order, the same pins talking at the same moment, the same scattered deadwood. That is what makes a score worth sending to somebody. Come back tomorrow and the regiment remembers: the game keeps your best of the day, your all-time best, and how many days running you have shown up. Switch to free play if you would rather just bowl, and the lane goes back to being different every time.
The incident report. At the end of the tenth the regiment files a complaint about you, and you can copy it out, or send it straight on if your device has a share sheet: the frame strip in the same notation as the board above the lane, who you silenced and how many times, your best cut-off, and how often you found the ditch.
The dial that matters. Under
Tuning, Tell length is the fairness knob, and 0.45s is the measured sweet spot. Shorter is unreadable noise; longer and blind players get lucky too. Move it and feel why.