From patience classics like Klondike and Spider to trick-taking games and regional favourites — every deal dealt fresh, free, in your browser.
Two very different families of game share this shelf. The solitaires — Klondike, Spider, FreeCell, Pyramid and TriPeaks — are quiet games of patience you play alone and can sink into for a while.
The rest you would normally play against people: trick-taking games like Hearts and Euchre, and shedding games like Dou Di Zhu — here against opponents that genuinely play to win.
Card sessions tend to run long, so every game keeps unlimited undo and a hint for when a deal stalls, and opens forgiving on the first hand. Several titles are regional classics — Basra, Briscola, Scopa and more — built on their original rules, not a simplified copy.
If you have never played anything on this shelf, start with Klondike — you almost certainly know it already — and move to FreeCell the moment Klondike starts feeling like luck rather than judgement. FreeCell deals every card face up. Nothing is hidden, nearly every deal is winnable, and a loss therefore belongs entirely to you. That is the honest on-ramp into everything else: once you have played a game where the blame is provably yours, Spider at two suits and Pyramid stop feeling arbitrary and start feeling like structures you dismantled in the wrong order.
Every game here carries seven difficulty levels, Beginner through Cyborg, and it is worth saying plainly what they do, because it is not what most players assume. In the solitaires they never touch the shuffle. They change your resources: how many cards you draw at a time, how many passes you get through the stock, whether hints exist, how many undos you hold, whether a clock is running. Klondike on Beginner is draw-one, unlimited passes, unlimited undo. Klondike on Cyborg is draw-three, one pass, no hints, no undo, timed. Same deck, entirely different game. In the games with opponents the levels move the opponent instead — the hardest Hearts ZAP seats notice a moon attempt forming and start dumping points to break it before it lands.
The shelf holds three postures on this, deliberately. Mahjong Solitaire sits at one end: its generator refuses to deal a layout that is not solvable from the full board, and the 144-tile tier took longer to build than anything else in that game for exactly that reason. FreeCell sits near it by nature. Klondike and Spider sit at the far end on purpose — they are honest shuffles, and an honest Klondike shuffle is occasionally dead before you turn the first card. I could pre-solve those deals and ship only winnable ones. I don't, because the face-down column is Klondike; remove the possibility of a lost board and the game is gone. What I owe you instead is that a loss carries information — you can nearly always walk back and find the move where the board quietly closed.
Every deal is a Fisher–Yates shuffle driven by a small deterministic generator, and for the daily challenge the number feeding it is the calendar date and nothing else. Not your score, not your difficulty, not how badly the week has gone. That is the whole mechanism, and it is the only reason a daily score is worth comparing: everyone playing today is playing the identical deck. Outside the daily the seed is random per game, so a restart genuinely restarts — TriPeaks re-deals instantly because its entire appeal is speed, and Blackjack's 41 and 51 variants run on more decks partly to shrink what counting can tell you. For a game built to fill an evening rather than a bus ride, Canasta is the one, and the trick-takers played to their own countries' rules are collected on the Global Games shelf. The deck itself has a history, if you want it: why most decks have 52 cards.