Thrust, turn, shoot. The rocks break into smaller rocks and the smaller ones are faster. A saucer comes looking for you, and after a few waves it is the one that aims.
They come down a row at a time and speed up as you thin them out, so the game gets harder precisely because you are winning. Your shelters wear away where anyone shoots them, including you.
You are the exterminator. Clear every spider and every egg sac, then leave by the door. The thread always comes down before the spider does, which is the only warning you get.
Down through a building on the lifts. Only the red doors hold anything worth taking, and you cannot leave until you have them all. Shoot a lamp and the floor goes dark; a lift will crush anyone standing under it.
Push every crate onto a mark. You can push and you can never pull, so a crate shoved into a corner stays in that corner for good. Thinking is the whole game; there is no clock.
A shape hidden in a field of dots, built fresh every time so it is never the same picture twice. Look through the screen until it lifts out, guess it between yourselves, and only then press reveal.
Guess the word a letter at a time. Every wrong letter costs a fuel cell, and six of them scrubs the launch. The category is the only clue you get.
Angle, power, wind, fire. Turn-based, so nobody is punished for thinking, and the ground takes a bite out of itself everywhere you miss — including the hill you are standing on.
The opposite of a shooter: you spend the whole game trying not to go fast. Under 2.0 down and nearly upright, or you are wreckage. The narrow pads pay the most.
Four panels and a sequence that grows by one each time. The only cabinet here a three-year-old can beat an adult at, because it asks for nothing but memory.
Dots and boxes, which belongs to nobody. Close a box and you go again — so the whole game is knowing when to hand your opponent one on purpose.
The only cabinet with nothing to shoot at, only something to protect. You aim at the empty space ahead of a missile, because the blast is what kills and not the shot.
You cannot slow down and you cannot stop — you can only turn, and everywhere you have already been is now a wall. Rounds last thirty seconds and are brutal between siblings.
Claim ground by drawing out into open space and coming back. While the line is unfinished you can be killed; on your own ground you cannot. Trap the roamer in a corner and the rest of the field is yours.
The only cabinet where you have nothing to fight with. Three lanterns and then the door, while something walks the corridors that you cannot kill — corners break its line of sight, and the lamp only reaches so far.
Room for another. A ladder game, something with a paddle — whatever gets built next goes here.