- Shipped
- September 9, 2026 at 5:27 AM UTC
- Author
- Kamo
- Commit
- d0c76dc
A hand ends for everyone at the table at once and it ends differently for each of them. Until now it ended one way: somebody won a pot, and the window played the same show for the winner, the player they had just broken, and the person who folded on the first street and had been watching since. Twelve outcomes now, classified from the settled frame: BUSTED your stack is gone KNOCKOUT you won and somebody left the table on it MONSTER quads, a straight flush or a royal — the HAND was the event SCOOP a big pot at a showdown WON an ordinary one STEAL nobody called SIDE_POT you took a side pot and the main went elsewhere CHOPPED you shared it COOLER you lost a big one LOST you lost an ordinary one FOLDED you stopped paying, which is a decision and not a defeat RAIL you were not in it The precedence is the design, not the conditions — most of them are true at the same time. Busting outranks a side pot you took on the way down. A knockout outranks the size of the pot, because the pot comes back next hand and the player does not. A monster hand outranks the pot for the same reason in reverse: quads for two big blinds is still quads. Every rung is a test, and each was proved by substituting the rung below it. Four new things fall, drawn from the objects on the table rather than from a party. Chips erupt out of the centre when you are paid, in real cardroom denominations with the dashed edge ring. Card suits tumble when the hand itself was the event. Embers rise and go out when you lost one. Ash falls when you are out of chips. The bust is the one deliberate contradiction in the whole table: the loudest intensity in the file spent on the quietest thing in it. An iris closes the room to near-black, the flash and the shockwave and the window shake are all suppressed, and ash falls through it for three seconds. Answering the biggest moment in poker with the most light is the obvious move and the wrong one. A ceiling per outcome matters more than the floor. An ordinary loss can never reach the volume of a win however large the pot was, because the person it happened to is still sitting there about to be dealt another hand. Three defects only measurement found, all of them "quiet" rather than broken: ash spawned up to a screen above the window and fell at eighteen pixels a second, so it never arrived at all — 0 lit pixels for the first 1.2 seconds of the loudest ending in the game. Embers were forty two-pixel dots across three quarters of a million pixels. Suits spawned half a screen up and left their own canvas empty for the first second. Found by counting canvas alpha per layer at four moments, per outcome; a screenshot shows all three as merely subtle. Embers also take their own palette rather than the room's: falling brass and bone said "you won" while the type said the opposite.