Use the generated ServerMessage/ClientMessage union everywhere a decoded
message crosses a function boundary, so a typo in a payload field is a build
error instead of undefined at runtime. Clears every jsdoc/reject-any-type
warning in src/ and all but one in tests/ — room-code.test.js keeps one to
deliberately call normalizeRoomCode(undefined) against its documented
string-only signature, which is the point of that test.
Also fixes the flaky e2e helper: playingPair now waits for the guest's seat
(joinRoomSeated) before readyAndStart, and readyAndStart asserts the guest's
own ready row before touching Start, since a SetReady send can silently drop
while the socket is not open and nothing retries it.
A role query by name matched both the panel toggle and the board's pill,
since the pill's label contains the panel's. The spec now names the
control it means.
A /rules page says, in one place, what nothing in the app said before:
the chain rule, the clock, what a dead end costs, elimination and the last
player standing, how a word is scored and the reconnect window. Linked
from the landing page and from the board and lobby headers.
The chat control moves above the chain as a pill with the unread count,
where it can be reached on a phone mid-game, and the lobby's folded chat
now carries an unread badge too.
ESLint with the Svelte and JSDoc plugins, run in CI; the real findings
it turned up (missing each keys, untyped timer handles) are fixed.
Applies the findings of the three UI/UX reviews. The two that cost a
player something every single turn:
- The countdown reddened during the opponent's turn. It read the deadline,
which the server rewrites on every handover, and never asked whose turn
it was — a panic spike, every turn, about nothing the player could act
on. It now mutes when the clock is not theirs, and signals urgency by
thickening as well as reddening, because green to red is the pair a
red-green colour blindness cannot separate.
- On a phone the keyboard closed on every turn and could not be reopened.
`disabled` on the focused word field blurs it, and the recovering
focus() ran on a WebSocket message, which iOS will not open a keyboard
for. The field stays editable and the submit button carries the turn
instead; focus is asked for inside the gesture that submitted. A draft
aimed at a syllable the game has moved past is now corrected rather
than kept.
The board was also not holding together as the game grew. `min-height`
on the shell left nothing with a definite height to shrink against, so
the chain kept its full height and the page got taller every turn,
walking the word field and the chat off the bottom of the screen. The
shell now has a real height, the chain gives up its space first with a
floor so it cannot vanish, and `main` scrolls only as a last resort.
Online play had one true dead end: nothing on the pre-room screen showed
the connection at all, so a server that was down left an enabled button
and a screen that never changed — while each impatient tap sent a real
CreateRoom until the rate limiter answered. The badge is there now,
requests disable their button, a stall says so, and the lobby draws the
room's refusals beside the button that produced them instead of in a
chat panel below the fold. A dropped player gets a retry rather than
waiting out the backoff. An invite link asks a first-time guest for a
name instead of seating them as "Người chơi" with no way to fix it.
Accessibility and palette:
- The turn change is announced. It is the state the whole game hangs on
and it reached nobody who was not looking at that line.
- --accent darkened to #12692f: accent text on its own tint measured
4.29:1. Every existing pair improves, white-on-accent included.
- --border-strong added for the boundary of anything you type into or
press, which needs 3:1 and had 1.47:1 light, 1.78:1 dark.
- One focus ring, one 44px icon-button recipe, spacing and type scales,
safe-area gutters, per-route titles, a heading per screen, a skip
link, and reduced motion that stops the connection dot pulsing rather
than flickering it a hundred thousand times a frame.
Tests follow the two interactions that changed shape: resign and kick
confirm inline with a second press, because confirm() blocks the frame
loop the countdown runs on and hesitating could cost the turn it was
protecting. joinRoomSeated waits for the seat before anybody speaks —
the server replays a seat only the conversation from when it joined, so
the old helper was racing the handshake.
Verified: 189 unit tests, 40 end-to-end, no type errors, and the
palette and layout measured at 360/400/768/1280 in both themes.
Aiming at the word to read its meaning is a small target on a phone.
The button is the whole row now, and the card's padding belongs to it,
so a click lands wherever the finger does.
The panel and the correction note stay outside the button — a button
cannot hold the panel's list — and carry the padding themselves.
Opening the game is an advantage — the first player picks from a whole
syllable, everyone after them plays what is left — and it went to whoever
created the room, making them favourite in every game of a series.
The seat list is rotated by a random offset before the engine sees it, so
everybody still plays in the order they sat down and only the starting
point moves. A bot room keeps the human opening.
A room screen wide enough for it is two columns now: the game or the
lobby on one side and the room's conversation on the other, so neither
has to be scrolled past to reach the other. A phone keeps one column,
the game first, with the chat folded behind an unread count while a game
is on. One chat panel spans both phases by staying in the same place in
the markup — a remounted panel reopened having read nothing, and handed
the reader the lobby's conversation back as unread mail.
The room also keeps the score of the series. PlayerSlot carries the
games a seat has won since the room opened, credited before the lobby is
broadcast so the players see it the moment a game ends, and shown in the
lobby and beside each player's score on the board. It belongs to the
seat rather than to the room, because vacating one is exactly when the
name on it stops meaning the same person.
The conversation reads as a log — one line per message, "name: text",
each seat in its own colour — rather than as a stack of bubbles, which
stops being legible once four people are talking. ChatMessage carries
the seat that spoke, so a line is coloured by what the server said
rather than by matching display names, and a line whose seat has been
vacated is in nobody's colour.
The board's word button gets a test id of its own: it and the chat's
send button both read "Gửi", and the two are now on screen together.
A room holds up to four people and needs two to start. Both numbers are
server constants sent to the client in RoomState, so the lobby draws
whatever the server allows and widening a room is a server change alone.
Failing a turn eliminates that player rather than ending the game. The
syllable and the used words survive them, the turn passes to whoever is
next, and the last player standing wins. Two seats is that same rule seen
from close up, which is why there is one implementation of it and not two.
A dead end still costs the first player to face it their own clock, as
before: they get their turn, and lose it. Everyone behind them has already
seen that board, so they go out together rather than each sitting out a turn
limit they cannot use — which leaves the player who closed the position
standing, the same outcome two players get.
A player who is knocked out keeps their seat. They watch the rest of the
game, chat included, with only the word input gone, and everybody lands back
in the same lobby when it ends. The result screen is the whole table, ranked
by who outlasted whom, with each score reported beside the place rather than
deciding it.
The turn clock is deliberately not paused for a seat that has dropped, so a
player who loses their connection on their own turn loses it the way anybody
else would. Their reconnect window decides only whether they are still in the
game afterwards. Any number of windows can be open at once, settled by one
timer armed for the nearest of them.
Starting waits for every guest, not merely the first: a room of four that
began on one yes would have dealt three people a turn they never agreed to.
Kicking names a seat and is still refused on a player who is ready, and on
the owner's own — leaving is what an owner who wants out does, and it hands
the room on. Joining stays a lobby thing: a room with a game running turns a
latecomer away even with seats going spare, because there is no way to hand
somebody a game already in progress.
BREAKING CHANGE: RoomState, TurnUpdate and GameOver lose the fields that
could only ever describe a second player, OpponentLeft is retired in favour
of presence on RoomState, and suggestions move to the new PlayerEliminated —
they describe the position that beat a player, which by the end of a longer
game is nobody else's position. ProtocolVersion goes to 2, so a client built
against 1 is refused with a readable error rather than decoding a frame that
now means something else.
Chat belongs to the room rather than to a game, so it works in the lobby
while they agree on one, during it, and in the lobby it ends in.
A player is replayed what was said while they held their seat. That is what
a refresh restores, and it is also the boundary: a room code is pasted into
group chats by design, so somebody who redeems one starts at silence rather
than reading what the last two people said. A seat records where the
conversation stood when it was filled; the room keeps twenty lines and no
more, so a room that lives all day cannot grow.
Text is untrusted input rendered in a stranger's browser, so it goes through
the filter nicknames already used — now with a cap on stacked combining
marks, which that filter admitted. Twenty runes made mark stacking a
curiosity; two hundred make it a glyph cluster tall enough to cover the
board, and it would sit in the history being replayed to everyone who
followed.
Talking is not playing. A chat message does not reset the room's idle clock,
or one open tab could hold a room and its code for the life of the process
by typing into it once every nine minutes. It does not spend the move budget
either, and a line to a player who cannot keep up is dropped rather than
allowed to close their session — losing a line is recoverable, losing a
session mid-game costs them the game. A history is not droppable that way:
it is the frame that corrects a whole panel, and there is nothing behind it.
When a seat is vacated its words stay and its author goes, name included,
and the player who stayed is re-synced rather than left holding a name that
the next person through the door could ask for.
A room used to be a wrapper around one game: joining started it, and the
room died with it unless both players accepted a rematch inside thirty
seconds. It is now a lobby that outlives its games.
Whoever created the room owns it and the other seat is the guest. The guest
readies and the owner starts; the owner has no readiness of their own,
because starting is the same statement. A finished game returns both to the
lobby, where the next one is agreed exactly as the last was — the readiness
that started a game is spent with it.
A guest takes their readiness back before leaving, which is deliberate
friction: a player the owner is waiting on should have to say so before
walking away. The owner can free the seat of a guest who is not ready, and
not of one who is — readiness is a commitment, not an inconvenience. An
owner who leaves hands the room to whoever is left, unreadied, because they
are the one who starts now.
Something has to bound a room that outlives its games: the last player out
closes it, as does ten minutes in a lobby nobody started a game in. A
dropped connection is still not a player leaving — the seat is held for the
reconnect window in the lobby as well as mid-game, so a refresh no longer
costs somebody their room, and a resume lands in the lobby it left.
The rematch handshake is retired, and RoomCreated and RoomJoined go with it.
All three described part of what RoomState now describes in full, and three
messages for one lobby is three ways for a client to hold a view of it the
server never had. One snapshot per recipient, broadcast from the one place
that knows an input is finished, so no handler can forget to send it.
Twenty-one Playwright specs against the real binary serving the real bundle: a
bot game with its rejections, an online game across two browser contexts, and
the reconnect path. The server plays against the fixture dictionary, so nothing
here downloads the upstream release.
Every wait is on a state the server produced — the turn indicator, the required
syllable, a word appearing in the chain — never a sleep. Moves are chosen by
reading the same wordlist the server has rather than scripting a fixed
sequence, because the bot is entitled to pick a different reply.
Two things that do not work are recorded where the next person will look.
Offline emulation does not cut a loopback socket, so a test that went offline
kept playing happily. Routing the socket cuts it for real, but the close does
not reliably reach the server, so the grace window never starts: those tests
take the page away instead.
tiennm99