Hotel
Hilbert 54
Player goes up and down levels in a persistent magical "hotel" with cards. Guests regularly get moved up and down floors, represented by cards being added to the deck. When guests leave, all other guests are moved to fill in the gaps.
Win by having more points (cards of suit or rank matching initial).
How should a story start? A hidden truth, beyond the comprehension of a small mind like mine, may well be treated as a fairy tale.
I find my way to a hotel with infinite floors. Every floor is a single room, every room is a strange land, and every visitor is a stranger to me. Yet, I seem to remember each one from a past life.
Entering the lobby, a concierge looks at me with severe eyes, blue regards that soften at my sight. “You’re here, mon gars.” So personal, yet so unfamiliar. “Come with me. I shall show you to the elevator.”
Once the doors are closed, he pulls out a bag of dice, producing a handful of d20 and a d6.
“Dice are currency here,” he explains. He casts six d20 of six colors, and watches them fall in place. Then he casts six d6 of the same color, less enthusiastically.
I look on, and see the numbers come up. “I have no idea what these mean.”
“Commit them to memory,” he says and jotted them on a sheet of paper, handing them to me.
I read his neat handwriting:
White / Plains (W): [d20]
Blue / Island (U): [d20]
Black / Swamp (B): [d20]
Red / Mountain (R): [d20]
Green / Forest (G): [d20]
Colorless / Waste (C): [d20]
Wallet: [d6 d6 d6 d6 d6 d6]
“A d20 will get you through doors and into hearts or minds. A d6 will exchange for that which may be bought. Mana, and money.” He pats my shoulder—though he is younger than me, it feels so right—and inputs a number on the touchscreen panel. Then he turns to me and explains: “Your mana depletes from using spells, and is increased in between visits to rooms. Rest is the magician's greatest ally.”
“Do I have my own room?” I ask.
“On every floor,” he replies. “You shall have a bed, and amenities, and a roommate. Everyone is expecting you, and everyone has their advice on where you might explore next.” He reaches in his pocket again, and pulls out two basic lands. “Ever seen Magic cards?”
“No,” I answer, though I am not so sure. “What does it do?”
“You tap it by turning it sideways,” he demonstrates, “and your mana increases by one. Since I gave you a basic land of the same color as your highest and lowest rolls, you now have access to one more mana of those two colors. Up to twenty, of course.”
“Your lands untap upon arriving on a new floor,” he says, “as well as each time you wake up. ”
“I have to fiddle with cards while I’m at the hotel?” I groan.
“Do it in your head if you want, or on paper.” He shrugs. “The game state is what matters. Represent it however you wish.”
“Game state,” I repeat. “So this is a game.”
“Very much so,” he says. “This is a game of Magic, and you have two basic lands in play right now. You have mana of five types floating, each represented by a d20. The d6 have nothing to do with the game for now, unless you ever want to replace a die roll.”