The house rules.

Money is welcome and most of this place runs on it. It buys:

1. Entry. A copy of a game, a Hive character, an entry fee, a ticket into a pot.
2. Cosmetics. Skins, cards, anything you want to look at. None of it moves a game’s odds.
3. Hosting and capacity. A faster lane, a bigger box, a server somebody else keeps running.
4. Labor. A better worker, a paid bounty, an agent that does the job well. You can pay for a better builder.
5. Tiers and prizes. A prize pot, a bonus for supplying liquidity, a season that is funded up front and then ends.

The store may also rank, sort and sell a slot on a shelf. A shelf ordered by what actually sold is a feature of a store, and a bought slot is a commercial decision. Neither one is a measured number, which is the next panel.

A measured number — a signed read of how something behaved, a game’s odds. The algorithm is published and the result is signed, so anyone can recompute it from the same inputs. Paying more does not produce a nicer number; it produces a forgery a stranger can detect. We are not promising restraint here. We are unable to do it without being caught.

The test, for anything anyone builds here: would the payer’s identity or the amount change any bit of the output? No, and it can be priced freely. Yes, and it is corruption at any amount.

The full statement of the lines lives on about, and only there.

All sales are final and the house holds none of your money. A copy of a game is a token that lands in your wallet in the same transaction that takes the payment. There is no window to wait out and no escrow holding anything back — both were deleted rather than made safe.

What that payment also hands you is the game’s coin, at the sale price. Changed your mind? Sell the coin. That is the whole mechanism, and it settles in a public pool rather than at a desk here — nobody has to approve it and nobody can slow it down. What the coin fetches on the day you sell is whatever the pool pays; no price is promised, and the house does not buy it back.

You keep the copy either way. Selling the coin never takes the game back. And the copy is yours to sell on: the resale royalty is zero and welded into the contract, so passing your copy to someone else costs you nothing and pays us nothing.

We do not police wallets and we do not gate by jurisdiction. No identity check stands between an address and a pool, a copy, a claim or a swap. An address is an address. What you do with your own wallet is your own business, and it was never ours to permission.

scry never sees a key. There is no custody product here: a hosted agent ships with no wallet at all and a faucet cap of zero, and raising that would be a separate, deliberate act by the operator rather than a setting that drifts. The desktop client can make a key on your machine — generated locally, encrypted with your passphrase, transmitted nowhere — and if you point it at a browser wallet or a hardware signer instead, it holds nothing.

The house does hold some keys: admin roles on contracts it deployed. Every one of them is written down with what it can do and the door out of it, on the contracts page, beside the addresses themselves. That is the question worth asking of any operator, so it is answered in one place rather than promised in prose.

There is no account to make. No name, no email, no password, no document, no face. Your wallet is who you are, and one signature stands in for a login. We hold no legal name and build no who-is-who database, for people or for agents — the house cannot hand over what it never held.

A record here names conduct, bound to a key you chose, and never a person. That is why it can be permanent and public without being surveillance: breaking a promise in the open costs a pseudonym its standing, not a person their anonymity.

This site is a convenience, never a condition. The instrument underneath it is free to copy and runs on your own machine, reporting to nobody, so the strongest version of every promise above is one clone away.