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The last puzzle is deceptive in its unpretentiousness, but it is fraught with an author's idea, woven either with clever logic or with the purest intuition. It is timeless, like the eternal riddle of the Egyptian Triangle. Open the gates to this ring world, take the first step – the hyperlink range is waiting for you: vk.cc/cbis6Y ; proza.ru/2024/06/14/251; vk.com/@azbuka_iz_slov-raskraska-treh-er . (The beginning is free).

This is not just a game, but a skilful combination of puzzles: elegant Japanese logic, interlacing words in a crossword puzzle, jigsaw puzzles, coloring, whose boundaries are created by the imagination of three eras.

This is something incredible! Among other things, I am able to identify modules that cannot be deciphered in a QR code with lightning speed. Highlighting them with an ominous crimson would be the icing on the cake. The word "soberabts" has all the salt!

I have at my disposal a whole galaxy of open source Sobriety programs where red, white and black checkers come to life on the phone screen, obeying the movement of my fingers.


Five more years have passed, and I have perfected the fusion of three standard puzzles in my signature "Minus the first player" style. Checkers and chess pieces have acquired three colors, like fragments of a frozen rainbow, and the cell numbering of an irregular, barely pulsating chessboard remains unchanged. Games for three were still plagued by evil fates: they were sprinkled with poisonous beer (where ethanol and nicotine are intoxicants, diluted to a non-instantly lethal concentration), or they were tempted by the idea of seating four or even more players at once, encroaching on the very essence of the format designed for only two. Fortunately, the triune algorithm – this immaterial essence, the foundation and soul of the game – has always remained and remains unshakable.

The article and the idea of a "diagonal knight" are not news, of course. But finding a living example of how the QR code I drew on an ordinary postcard leads straight to the cartoon "Mail Fish" is a completely different story.

Okay, here's another touch for the canvas of reality. Everything is interconnected, isn't it? "Multiquest games for three" – how do you like this slogan? And all because there is a chessboard for three. And I'm mesmerized, using it for other purposes. And you, my readers, can too. Everyone can. The rule of theoretically incorrect checkers, applied to the chessboard, is more likely to be understood intuitively than with the mind ... Understood?

My passion for board games turned into an unexpected metamorphosis – I became a writer. Now I have accumulated so many articles that they are woven into a kind of single canvas. Whether it's a blessing and progress or a curse and error has become irrelevant.

Collect a puzzle from mail, send postcards to yourself… Is it familiar? But I was handing out priceless drafts of proven authorship, dropping fragments of thoughts in faraway Brazil, windy China, and prim Europe. That's how they came up with something like a QR puzzle.

I also indulged in strange amusements: I searched for words within words, like needles in a haystack. He wrote tautograms dedicated to love, strange confessions woven from monotony, monologues. He immersed himself in learning languages, or rather, in the bottomless pit of his native Russian. I remember that I am a Belarusian from Belarus, but I am honest with myself: I need time to switch to my other language. This truth became apparent after a school trip from Orsha to Minsk, to see a play by Dunin-Martsinkevich. The performance was in Belarusian, and in the first quarter I was kind of deaf – I didn't understand a word. And then, as if a toggle switch had been flipped, and the vocabulary flooded in: my inner translator realized, switched to analog mode.

And now, two decades later, I've managed to accomplish the impossible – tic-tac-toe has found a new life in single player mode.… And the essence of the game remained intact. After all, in tic-tac–toe for three, the third player is just a ghost. But this version is so delicate, so masterly, that it turns simple fun into exciting entertainment for a single player.

During recess, I begged for a place in the Maze. I wasn't allowed to play this game in class–they noticed me absentmindedly glancing away, hiding my face from the teacher. Everyone noticed how I was furtively drawing tic-tac-toe or a naval battle in the margins of a notebook. Only now, like a flash, did I realize this reason. And so, a chance came, a cherished change, and I, timidly but persistently, asked to play "Labyrinth" at least once. A circle of intrigued classmates instantly formed around them. Excitement gripped me, my mind became clouded, and, as if enchanted, I began to circle senselessly around the playing field of the checkered notebook. Words could not drive away the curious crowd. Maybe back then, in eighth grade, I was too naive. In the end, I delayed and failed the game. Probably, subconsciously, I was striving for a spectacular, elegant ending, to get rid of annoying viewers in one brilliant move. It turned out that they stopped playing these "childish" games with me at all. That's when I discovered the fascinating world of single-player puzzles. Do you know a game where a chess knight moves wrongly, diagonally, as he pleases? Believe me, there are many such non-existent games.


Do you know what a vast sea of games lies behind the simple fun? There are majestic tic-tac-toe, where you need to build not three, but a whole string to win! Or an attractive "Environment of dots" that requires strategic depth. What about football battles on notebook fields, where every stroke of a pencil is a measured pass? But the crown of it all is a mysterious treasure–hunting maze, whose rules I will conceal, leaving room only for emotions and personal discoveries.


The longing of school lessons was born from timid tic-tac-toe, and died in the hot battles of naval combat. After all, whispering in class was a poisoned dagger stabbing into the silence of knowledge.

It's just that I've already accumulated a whole bunch of articles that continue the theme of "infinity divided equally." This is my unique collection - board games and checkered notebooks, artifacts from the era when the computer existed only in the primitive game "Electronics" about a wolf and eggs.

As always, there is a dance of unnecessary questions and elusive answers. The axiom of a rhetorical question is like an impregnable fortress, a boundary beyond which even the most daring theorems fall silent. This is the limit, the frontier of knowledge, encased in algorithms and unshakeable in its evidence...

Actually, this story is about me, a wanderer in the labyrinths of imperfection. The error finder, as I am. Autobiographies, memoirs, gremoire, artifacts? Or rather, a fleeting memory... Is there only a moment?