Nameless,skill-based.

Nobody asks your name.

Everyone enters the pit as a Hood. No name, no face, no history, no title. A former champion and someone on their first battle meet on the same terms.

Blind doesn't promise perfect fairness. It keeps the name out of the room until the choice has been made.

The cut comes first.

What you face first is what the other side actually played — real decks, a real mixer, real hands, recorded on their own rig.

The game is a layer around turntablism, not a replacement for it.

Blind changes who you hear. Real performance decides what you hear.

Your rival is part of the evidence.

The people inside the battle decide it. After each round you give your rival one to three stars — and it isn't a grade. It's where you stand.

I'm sure I won

Not sure

I accept defeat

Nothing is locked. Everything is written down.

Record again as often as you like — every re-take is counted, for life. Write anything next to your take — nobody filters it.

The game doesn't police people. It keeps the record, and lets it speak later.

Don't eliminate the human condition. Make it visible.

Reveal is when the game tells the truth.

When both sides are done, the Hoods come off: names, stars and re-takes, all at once.

A rookie may have beaten a champion. A message may read differently now. A battle ends as a story, not just a score.

One seat.

The top of the game isn't a number on a list. It's a throne with one person on it — the one everyone has to beat.

Winning is one path. Respect is another, and the game keeps them apart: you can win without it, and lose without losing it.

And the pit doesn't close between events. Battles keep going, rivalries keep building.