Dime Drop

A coin falls. You get three moves before it does. Dime Drop is a physics puzzler about three decisions — four, deeper in. Most of the pieces on the board ride a drawn track: a straight run, an arc, a vee, a hook, a zigzag. A tracked piece doesn't go wherever you like, only somewhere along its own path, so a board isn't asking where to put one thing. It's asking which arm of this, and how far along that. Then you release the coin and watch what your choices were worth. Pins, bumpers, blades, dampers and spinning rotors are all in the way. Exactly one target slot is lit. THE PROMISE No board ships until a solver has proven it can be beaten — and it proves it the hard way, by finding a position for a single piece that lands the coin. You get three moves, not one. Every layout in the game was certified before it was ever handed to you, so when a board looks impossible, that's the puzzle talking, not the generator. The physics is deterministic to the timestep: the same nudges always produce the same drop. Nothing here is luck dressed up as skill. THREE WAYS TO PLAY Story — 180 fixed boards across fifteen chapters. Every level is the same puzzle every time, on every device, forever, so a three-star rating means something and "I'm stuck on 4-7" is a sentence two people can have a conversation about. Stars come from how few of your six coins you spend, not from score — score only measures how many bumpers happened to be in the way. Each chapter introduces one idea and then builds on it: bumpers that give energy back, blades where angles beat positions, pieces bolted down that won't move at all, others pinned to a single axis, rotors that start level and then don't, toll gates to thread on the way down. Endless — random boards, six coins, and a difficulty curve that keeps going. Go as deep as you can. Daily — the same boards for everyone, every day. One run, no retries. The score means nothing if you can reroll it. DIMES Score points, bank dimes, spend them. A trace that shows you exactly where the coin goes before you commit. A free hand, to take one piece off its track — or off its bolts — and put it anywhere. A skip for a board you've decided you're done with. Nine coin faces, eight of them earned: a copper, a blued steel, a sovereign, a jade, and four that aren't dimes at all — an arcade token, a wooden nickel, a steel slug with a hole through it, and a bottle cap. All cosmetic, none of them physics. FAIR BY DESIGN Money buys dimes, and dimes buy coins to look at. Nothing on sale changes how a board plays: every aid and every life is priced inside what playing earns, and no pass outlasts a session. The rarest coins are a long chase, and a chase is all they are. Endless and Daily are never gated by lives, so running the campaign dry is a detour, never a wall. There is exactly one advertisement in the entire game: a rewarded ad you can choose to watch when you're out of lives. It is never shown to you unasked. No account. No sign-up. Plays offline.