Dice games

Place your rolls, smash the matching column, and outscore a cunning opponent.

Four cups rolled in secret, bids that must rise, and dudo to call the lie: ones are wild, the wrong party sheds a die, and the last cup with dice in it takes the night. The taproom classic played for nerve, solo against the cast or live at the open tables.

The old five-dice game the boxed one descends from, against the Drover: three rolls a turn, hold what pleases you, and write one of twelve lines, once each. Straights pay thirty, the yacht itself fifty, and not a bonus anywhere. The higher card takes the game. Solo or live at the open tables.

The oldest jeopardy dice game there is, against the Pilgrim: every roll grows the pile, a hold banks it for good, and a one burns it all and hands the die across. First to bank one hundred. That is the whole law, and it is enough. Solo or live at the open tables.

Ten Thousand, the folk dice game of nerve, two-handed against the Pilgrim: set your scoring dice aside, then press on with what remains or bank the pile for good. Ones are a hundred, fives fifty, triples pay a hundredfold and double by the die; a roll with nothing scoring is a farkle, and the whole pile burns. First to ten thousand banked. Solo or live at the open tables.

The old pub game, two-handed against the Ale-Wife: roll the dice and shut standing tiles that sum exactly to the throw, one die allowed once the high tiles are down. When nothing answers, the leavings join your tally, and the first tally to forty-five loses. Shut every tile and the box is yours on the spot. Solo or live at the open tables.

The family form of old pachisi, two-handed against the Chapman on the classic cross: enter on a six, race the shared road, knock him home where the squares allow, and rest on the eight safe stars. The last step home must be exact, and a six always throws again. First to bring all four home. Solo or live at the open tables.