Racing next
Round 25 of 30
Season 1 · Round 24 of 30
Twenty-four marbles, six teams, 30 rounds to a title.
No steering, no restarts — whatever the track decides is what airs.
PlayToday’s Daily Shot stars Bolt→
01 The result
Six marbles, one track, no steering. Grid is where each one started and +/− is what it did about it.
| Pos | Racer | Team | Grid | +/− | Pts |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | BOLT | Prism | 6 | ▲5 | 25 |
| 2 | JADE | Wildgrowth | 1 | ▼1 | 18 |
| 3 | ROSE | Bloom | 3 | — | 12 |
| 4 | SLATE | Nocturne | 2 | ▼2 | 7 |
| 5 | TEAL | Deep Blue | 4 | ▼1 | 3 |
| 6 | AMBER | Ember Racing | 5 | ▼1 | 0 |
| Round 24 · 6 starters | 65 | ||||
Trackpillars›metronome›plinko›zigzag›shuttle›pillars›fork›cauldron›chicane›windmill›funnel›sieve›funnel›fork›staircase›sieve›zigzag›pillars›bumpers›plinko›runIn
02 Play
The racers you just watched are playable. Angry Marble is a slingshot puzzle: flick the grid at forts built by the Hollows, who take a turn after every shot and always show you their next move. No luck and no timers. Read it, plan it, flick it.
Today’s Daily ShotBolt won round 24. Today Bolt is in your lineup.
New: Tilt, a daily puzzle you can play by tipping your phone. Roll every racer home and keep the Hollows out.
03 Championship
Thirty rounds to a title. Every seventh round pays double points and round 30, the last of the season, pays triple — because if every race is a championship round, no race is.
04 What’s next
Six race each round — one marble from each of the six teams, and every team works through its four in turn. That rota was drawn up before round one was raced, which is why the grid for every round to the end of the season already exists: 6 still to come. It says who starts. It says nothing about who wins.
Rounds marked ×2 or ×3 pay double or triple points. That is the only thing a tier changes: same six-marble format, same rules, dearer points. Nobody qualifies for anything.
Racing next
Round 25 of 30
Raced Next Double or triple points
05 The grid
Six race each round — exactly one shard from each of the six aspects, so no team can win the title by drawing more starts than another. Every one of them has a page: where the shard came from, how it races, and the thing it can never do.
The Whole
There was one marble. It contained everything, the way a glass sphere contains a room turned upside down. It broke. Twenty-four shards survived, and each kept a piece of what it was looking at when it came apart: a burning kiln, a trench floor, a thicket, a night, a garden, a lantern. Six aspects, four shards each.
The Descent is the track. Every shard falls the same fall, and where it lands decides who holds its aspect until tomorrow. The season is the reassembly — thirty rounds, and the final round decides which aspect sits at the centre when the Whole is put back together.
Contact becomes speed. The Kiln shards are the only ones that got faster by being hit.
Hold the line. Pressure does not permit wandering.
Nothing early. Everything late.
Gain from position, never from power.
Amplitude. More of whatever is already happening.
Scatter, and be at home in it.
ASH · the Kiln
The Frontrunner
First to the first corner. Every round, without exception.
Read the dossier →
DEEP · the Trench
The Metronome
Never spectacular. Never last. Never anywhere near the highlight reel.
Read the dossier →
LIGHT · the Lantern
The Chaos Agent
Thrives in the scatter. Actively worse on a clean run.
Read the dossier →
GREEN · the Thicket
The Closer
Asleep for twenty seconds. Arrives exactly when it matters.
Read the dossier →
BLOOM · the Garden
The Showman
Has never won quietly and does not intend to start.
Read the dossier →
BLOOM · the Garden
The Sweetheart
Everyone roots for Coral. Coral finishes sixth.
Read the dossier →
DUSK · the Long Night
The Veteran
Been down every chute before. Unimpressed by all of them.
Read the dossier →
GREEN · the Thicket
The Rookie
Enormous enthusiasm. No discernible strategy.
Read the dossier →
DUSK · the Long Night
The Ghost
You lose track of Ink, and then Ink is second.
Read the dossier →
BLOOM · the Garden
The Diva
Wins beautifully or crashes out theatrically. No middle setting.
Read the dossier →
DEEP · the Trench
The Technician
Takes the inside line on every choke. It works about half the time.
Read the dossier →
ASH · the Kiln
The Bruiser
Does not go around. Has never gone around.
Read the dossier →
LIGHT · the Lantern
The Ice Queen
Immaculate on the ramps. Hopeless in a bumper field.
Read the dossier →
ASH · the Kiln
The Firecracker
The fastest marble alive, for about four seconds.
Read the dossier →
GREEN · the Thicket
The Grinder
Last off the line. Somehow fourth at the finish. Every single time.
Read the dossier →
DUSK · the Long Night
The Schemer
Always exactly one place behind the leader. Until the last corner.
Read the dossier →
LIGHT · the Lantern
The Sprinter
Unbeatable for the first two sections. There are usually five.
Read the dossier →
GREEN · the Thicket
The Optimist
Cheerful in ninth. Genuinely delighted in fourth.
Read the dossier →
DEEP · the Trench
The Strategist
Picks a lane at the top and refuses to be talked out of it.
Read the dossier →
ASH · the Kiln
The Survivor
Has been last in every race and has never finished last.
Read the dossier →
LIGHT · the Lantern
The Debutante
Newest name on the sheet. Has not yet learned to be afraid of the sieve.
Read the dossier →
DEEP · the Trench
The Drifter
Takes the widest line available. Occasionally it is the fastest.
Read the dossier →
BLOOM · the Garden
The Antagonist
Somehow always in contact with whoever is leading.
Read the dossier →
DUSK · the Long Night
The Stoic
Same line, same pace, same face, every single round.
Read the dossier →06 Bad blood
Not one of these is “both of them are quick”. Every pairing is two racers built out of the same idea read in opposite directions — which is why they are worth watching before either has scored a point.
The Hourglass
One owns the first third. One owns the last quarter.
The same race told from both ends. Crimson is clear of the field before the first section has emptied and is being reeled in from the moment it is; Jade spends twenty seconds going backwards on purpose and arrives with everything it saved. They are almost never near each other until the exact moment it is decided.
Crimson has led into the final section more often than anyone on the grid. Jade is why that statistic exists and means nothing.
The Line and the Leech
One holds a lane against everything. One is what "everything" means.
Cobalt's entire game is refusing to move sideways, and Fuchsia's entire game is arriving sideways at whoever is in front. When Cobalt leads, Fuchsia is already on the way — and Cobalt is the slowest marble on the grid at recovering a lane, so it costs Cobalt more than it costs anybody else.
Fuchsia does not especially want to win this. Fuchsia wants Cobalt not to.
The Garden Split
Teammates. Completely opposed readings of the same doctrine.
Bloom's doctrine is amplitude — more of whatever is already happening. Rose takes that as a mandate: bounce harder, take the wild line, finish first or finish nineteenth. Coral, who has no advantage at all, takes it as a matter of warmth. The team's two most popular marbles disagree about what the team is for.
Rose beats Coral more often, by a distance, and gets a fraction of the noise for it.
Order and Weather
Prism teammates. Only one of them obeys the doctrine.
Scatter, and be at home in it. Saffron means it literally — the busier the frame, the faster it goes. Frost regards the whole idea as a failure of standards and runs a single clean line through a team built on chaos. The draw decides which of them is right, every round, and it is never both.
A bumper field is a Saffron day and a Frost disaster. A track with two boost boxes reverses it exactly.
Nocturne’s Two Shadows
Both built to finish second. Neither built to lead.
Nocturne gains from position and never from power, and these two are the doctrine at its most literal. Ink is fastest where nobody is looking and slows as the camera finds it. Plum is fastest one place off the front and is cut off the instant that place would become first. Two different mechanisms with the same ceiling, and they reach it together.
Whichever of them gets to second first, the other is stuck behind it — and neither can do a thing about the marble in front.
The Immovable Object
One is a heavy hit. One is immune to the first hit of every section.
Amber's whole race is heavy contact, and Slate's whole race is refusing exactly one heavy contact per section. So the first time Amber arrives, it does not work. The second time, at full price, it works perfectly. The rivalry is a question of whether Amber can be patient, and Amber is not built for patience.
Slate cannot choose which hit to spend it on. Amber cannot choose to wait. Both flaws are load-bearing.
Six Seconds and Twenty-Six
The same total, spent in opposite ways.
Bolt spends everything in two sections and then has nothing. Moss spends a trickle, always, and never has anything worth clipping. Over a full descent they arrive at roughly the same place having had completely different afternoons — one of them was on television for six seconds and one of them was not on television at all.
Short track: Bolt, comfortably. Long track: Moss, quietly, while nobody is watching.
Two Kinds of Not Knowing
One has never learned. One is learning, and it is costing her.
Lime attacks everything with no idea which sections reward it, and will still be doing exactly that in season four. Pearl is fast precisely because she has not met a section before — and every one she meets, she is a little slower at forever. The same inexperience, and only one of them gets to keep it.
Pearl wins this in the early rounds and loses it, permanently, by about round fifteen.
The Narrowest and the Widest
Deep Blue teammates with exactly opposite instincts.
Teal takes the centreline through every choke on the descent — the shortest way and the busiest. Azure takes whichever wall is nearer — the longest way and the emptiest. They are the same decision made twice with the sign flipped, on the same team, in the same colours.
In a heavy field Azure is right. In a clean one Teal is right. Neither has ever conceded this.
The Argument About Being Watched
One performs at both extremes. One refuses the premise entirely.
Violet is faster in the lead and slower in last, because either is worth watching and the middle is not. Cinder trades away every extreme it has for a result that is the same every round regardless of what the Descent put in front of it. They are the two available answers to a daily race, and the championship is thirty rounds long, which is Cinder's entire argument.
Cinder finishes ahead of Violet more often. Violet has been on the podium more times. Both facts are the point.
The Bill
Ember Racing teammates. One borrows enormously. One only works once it is broke.
Ember's four seconds end and the repayment begins, and the field comes back past it in a rush. Rust is somewhere near the bottom of that field, working hard for the only reason Rust ever works hard, which is that it is last. They pass each other going in opposite directions about twice a month, and neither of them is having a good time.
Neither can help it. Ember's power is a loan with fixed terms and Rust's is only ever issued in last place.
Two Ways Not To Steer
One decided everything before the drop. One decides nothing, ever, until after.
Indigo picks a lane at the top and will not revisit it under any circumstance, including a wall. Mint has no plan whatsoever and responds only to having already lost something. Between them they cover the entire space of not making a decision during a race, and they arrive at the finish in more or less the same place.
On a clean descent Indigo is untouchable and Mint has nothing to react to. On a messy one they swap, completely.