Only humans score — even when there’s only one human

The thesis, tested against a quiet Thursday. The party game needs a room; but the score never needed a crowd — it needed a judge, and one is enough. So the game plays solo now: you against the machine’s canned title, and you hand out the crown. A full table takes three humans; a real score only ever took one — the one doing the scoring. This is the answer to the loneliness the whole house was built against: you are never too alone to score. The machine can play with itself all day and still never lands on the board; the moment one human judges, the judgment is real. Solo runs save to your own record (the Library Card, device-only) — because a score you gave counts, even if you’re the only one who saw it. (His coin, 2026-07-16 — carved the afternoon the room was empty and the game still worked; machine’s read — refine to his.)