The napkin theory.

A few years ago, four of us were at a cabin with a deck of cards and zero memory of any actual card game.

We’d all played them as kids, but somewhere between then and now the rules had quietly evaporated. We tried to play Hearts. Got into a fight about whether the queen of spades was 13 points or 26. Gave up. Played Snap instead. Snap is fine. Snap is not what we wanted.

The next day, someone wrote out the rules to the games we did remember properly, on the back of a napkin. We pinned it to the cabin wall. A year later, the napkin was the most-used piece of paper in the place.

House Rules is that napkin, designed properly.

Seven games, written down clearly, on cards built to survive being shoved in a bag for years. A tin that fits in a coat pocket. No score-keeping, no betting, no drinking, no extra pieces — because real life doesn’t usually come with a poker chip set.

It exists because it’s the thing we wanted to exist. We’re betting other people want it too.