You run the only laundromat open between midnight and dawn.
Your clients are dead, cursed, or late for a ritual and not one of them is patient.
Take the ticket. Read the garment. Spectral silk has to be revealed before you touch it. Ancestral blood sets forever in hot water. The necromancer wants his curse left exactly where it is, thank you.
Then wash it, dry it, fold it, and get it back over the counter before the sun comes up.
At the back of the room sits Machine 13
Nobody remembers who installed it. It has three modes and sixteen faces, and it prints the odds on the panel before you touch the lever.
- DUPLICATE — a second invoice, a second garment, or a second customer with the same order and the same hurry.
- PURIFY — the curse goes down the drain. Sometimes it takes the thing the customer asked you to keep with it.
- DISTORT — the biggest payout in the building, the only outcome that can unravel a garment thread by thread, and the fastest way to fill the anomaly meter.
Every result is on the forecast before you commit, with its real chance and its real cash. Machine 13 is a wager. It is not a slot machine.
What you are actually doing
Six clients, six fabrics, six stains, six curses — and they combine. A vampire’s cape in midnight velvet with ritual wax on it and a light-sensitive curse is one order, and it is four separate rules you have to hold at once.
A preview that cannot lie. The warning you read before pressing the button is literally the same function that decides what happens. If the washer says hot water will set that stain forever, it will.
Nothing is hidden. Inspect a garment and the game tells you which temperature cleans it, which one ruins it, and which product the curse answers to. Difficulty here is how many rules arrive at once, never a rule nobody told you about.
A shop with an actual bet in it. More drums pulls more clients through the door which is only good news if you also hired somebody who can reach the counter. Upkeep and payroll are both settled at dawn, in that order, and the first wage the till cannot cover walks out of the building.
Nine permanent perks, bought with Moon Seals, that outlive the contract you earned them in.
The Madrugada. One laundromat, one night, one attempt, the same for everybody on the planet. Same handicap, same event, same customer at the same second — because every order in this game is a pure function of a seed, and you can type that seed back in and replay the night exactly.
The one rule that shaped everything
Receiving, processing and delivering a single garment had to be satisfying before any of the chaos was allowed in. So the pipeline comes first: the walk, the dials, the drum, the counter. Machine 13 only works as a hook because the laundry is already worth doing without it.
If you lose a cape tonight, you will know exactly which dial did it. The next cape will be fine.
Hand-authored pixel art in a 32-colour palette. Mouse, keyboard and full controller support. Sunrise is a hard deadline.
“No light. No garlic. No excuses.” Count Hemophile, regular