No roll is worse than a 2.
The cup is 11 squares from the tee.The die decides how far the ball goes. It does not decide where. That part has always been the game.
Golf as it would be played in the back of a notebook. A round takes about ten minutes. A new course is printed every morning, and everybody in the world plays that one.
Par 4. The die decides how far. You decide where.
A faithful miniature — one hole, the same loop. The real thing has eighteen, a deck, and a course that changes daily.
Roll. The die tells you the distance — three squares, or six, and no argument. Every square exactly that far away lights up, and one of them is the fairway, and one of them is short of the water, and one of them is the one that leaves you a putt at it if the breeze is kind.
That is the whole game, eighteen times, and it is why two people rolling the same numbers do not shoot the same score.
Every hole opens with a choice of three, and the hole in front of you decides which one was worth keeping. No roll is worse than a 2. The rough plays kind for one hole. Nothing above a 4, and the middle firms up.
You get one. It is spent when you play it. And the card you wanted on the seventeenth is the card you burned on the fourth.
No roll is worse than a 2.
The cup is 11 squares from the tee.The ground is kinder: once a hole it takes nothing, and the rough plays like fairway.
The rough covers 23% of this hole.Nothing above a 4, and the middle firms up.
Water on the left, all the way in.
A new eighteen is printed each morning and the whole world plays that one. You get a single go at it — no restarts, no second look, no quietly trying again until it goes well. Your score stands beside everybody else’s, and at midnight it is gone.
Which is the point. A round you can retry until it is good is not a round, it is a draft.
Free, for everybody, always. The daily and its leaderboard are not behind anything and never will be.
Three rounds, Friday to Sunday, on one weekly board with a trophy at the end of it. Fifty-two a year.
A fresh course whenever you want one, as many as you like. Nothing counts, nothing is spent.
Your card, hole by hole, in your own handwriting. Your best round and where you shot it. Eagles, birdies, the holes you’d rather forget, and the mulligan you didn’t need to spend.
It stays on your device. It is never sold back to you, and no part of your own history sits behind a purchase.
£4.99 / $4.99 · no subscription, no season pass, nothing else to buy
Shared with your family through Family Sharing. Refunds are handled by Apple.
Pencil, paper, one die, and eighteen holes. That is the whole game.