SOLITAIRE.EXE build 116: the process runs the reviews now

SOLITAIRE.EXE build 116

the process runs the reviews now.

AUDIT.EXE READS THE SHIFT LOG. Every terminated shift ends with a verdict on the report: dead from the first card, winnable and the move where you left the line, or you clocked out with a line still open. REQUEST AUDIT plays that line back on the board, one move at a time or on AUTO, from the report or from last night's card in My Computer. Spider tables keep no proof. The leaderboard's TONIGHT tab prints the par for tonight's first deck, and a daily filed faster than that deck allows is refused.

ONE TOOLTIP AT A TIME. Tips follow whichever you last touched: the mouse gets a hover tip at the cursor, the pad and keyboard get a tip beside the focused control, never both at once.

THREE BADGES. After the BIOS the building asks which of you is logging on. Three EMPLOYEE badges, three separate files: careers, blocklists, what the machine remembers about you. ENTER takes the last badge you used. Your existing file is EMPLOYEE 1.

RESIGN. The pause menu has it beside END TASK: hand in your badge and the week ends as a termination, filed like any other, whatever the score. On the termination report, R runs it back: same SYSTEM, fresh seed, shift 1.

SPEED. Display Properties > MONITOR has a SPEED row: 1x, 1.5x, 2x or INSTANT, and every card flight, spool count and payroll cascade keeps pace. Hold SHIFT to rush any moment as it plays (rebind it in KEYBINDS.CPL). Nothing about the shift changes, only the wait, and the words still stay up long enough to read.

THE SHOP SWAPS. Buying a plugin onto a full tray now opens the swap window: pick the one to let go and the new one drops into its slot, one press. And when the building has pulled a card from your deck, some nights MISSING_FILE.DAT turns up on the shelf: buy it back and the deck runs 52 again.

THE HOURGLASS IS BACK whenever the machine is working. The spool gauges are dark again. The chain and the spools have their own words: the chain prints its real heat, a fat commit reads SPOOLED or BUFFER FLUSHED, and a spool that slips reads PAPER JAM. SPOOLSV.EXE files SHIFT_REPORT.DOC when the quota lands. Playing on the beat is taught in TRAINING, QUICK KEYS and HELP. The plugin tray, the deck bar and the red jack's headset are tidied.

THE REVIEWS HAVE A VOICE. Every Performance Review is one of the process's moves, and it remembers you: the splash and the MEETING.REQ name something from your own record. Four new reviews. KING_WONT_MOVE.EXE pins a King to the table. BOTTOM_DEALER.EXE deals from the bottom of the deck. BUILDS_UP.EXE turns one column upside down. SUIT_GONE.EXE takes a suit off the file for the night. The last three only start on week 2.

IT KEEPS THINGS. Lose a review and it takes one of your plugins into the building: RECALLED, on file in My Computer, yours again when you beat a review or buy it back. Deeper in, a lost week deletes a card from the deck until you earn it back, and the last review's rule follows you into the first shift of your next run. After a lost week it has something to say on the desktop.

THE SPOOL, TUNED ON HANDS. Chips wind smaller and the chain climbs slower; quotas stay where they were, so week 1 is a fight again. NIGHTLY BACKUP pays half the chips, chain not included. HANG.EXE hangs your next two scoring plays. Winding onto a spool moves the gauge with weight, and PERFECT PRESSURE strains it.

IT KNOWS HOW YOU PLAY. The process reads your habits over the last dozen shifts and says so, in its own words, through the mail, the shop chat, the boot screen and the review splash: how much the machine files for you, whether you draw before you look, the hour you clock in, the spool you sit on. Every line ends with the numbers. It says each thing once, then goes further the deeper you are. Nothing about it changes the rules.

THE INBOX HAS ATTACHMENTS. Nine memos carry a file you can open: your personnel page, the floor plan with your desk circled, a badge photo, a payroll sheet that adds up to your bank, a chair, a door camera that gets a little brighter every time you look, a ticket you never filed.

THE RECYCLE BIN LOOKS BACK. badge_photo_2.bmp shows the picture, torn and stamped with a badge number one below yours. hold_music.wav plays. Stay on the line long enough and it says your name.

BUDD-E HAS A FAMILY. The unlockable skins are gone; in their place five variants of the imp, each with one thing it does for you once a run when you click it: a free reroll, tonight's review named, a warmer chain, a dollar off, a refund on an uninstall. The classic still finds a dollar.

THE WIND, THE FLOW, THE BEAT. Chips fly to the spool as one label, land with a punch, and the tick weighs what you wound. Play fast and clean and the game tightens around you: pops stack, the music lifts, a play landing on the kick winds extra. Stop and it lets go.

YOUR_FILE KNOWS YOU. Every page fills from the machine you are sitting at: the user name, the clock-in hour, the other things installed, the friends who never replied. Nothing leaves the machine.

TRAINING.EXE, REBUILT. Nine beats on a fixed deal, seven plays it asks for by name with the card and its target lit, one cameo, then you win alone. Three minutes.

THE PROCESS FIGHTS BACK. Seven pop-ups in the shop that can hurt a run or help it, and the run's health pulls them back toward fair. The dread lines read at a glance now, every one at body size in harm ink.

SIXTEEN THINGS TO FIND. A pinball table under OFFICE PAL with its own standings, a Caps Lock line, an Alt+F4 the process refuses, a 53rd personnel file, a DOS prompt behind an old code, and more. SAFETY TRAINING has standings of its own. Important mail is read aloud once.

PAYROLL. The base wage is $5 ($3 from week 4) and the flat lines pay half again; SYSTEMs, contracts and editions were retuned on the spool, and every one says its numbers on the tile.

THE CATALOGUE. 19 plugins that only counted are gone. The 88 that remain wear tags, and 25 of them grow with what sits beside them: the shop tile says SYNERGY and how many. A first run sees 40 plugins; the rest unlock three a run, four on a won week, and CODEX.HLP names the next three. Right-click a shelf disk (F or Y on a pad) to RAIN CHECK it: it waits on the shelf all week until you buy it. One a week.

THE DESKTOP. AWARDS and UNLOCKS icons (your felt, wallpaper, card backs and BUDD-E were buried; not any more), the program row SPIDER, SOLITAIRE, FREECELL, the Recycle Bin bottom right, and its nine files read as the files they are. Anything that opens on top takes the pad.