How it works
Every match begins with this screen
You point your phone at the post-match screen. OCR reads the final score, parses the player names, and turns the result into a record both players can confirm. It's the moment the whole product hinges on — without this capture, there's no league table, no history, nothing to react to.
The interface is deliberately stripped: a viewfinder, a single guide, one button. The pressure was always to add more — manual entry, score override, edits — and I kept resisting. The harder it is to fake a score, the more the score is worth.
Once captured, the score lives in a league
A league is a private group — cousins, flatmates, office rivals — with its own standings, history, and banter. You don't join a public ladder. You build a space around the people you already play with. Points calculate themselves from the matches you've already captured, so the table is a byproduct of playing, not a separate chore.
The design stays deliberately plain: a name, a table, a points tally. No avatars, no badges, no progression systems. The richness has to come from the relationships, not the interface. Invitations sit at the top in warm gold — visible enough to act on, quiet enough to ignore.
Interactive prototype
And the score isn't where the conversation ends
A 3–1 result is just a number. A 3–1 result with three crying-laughing emojis under it from the group chat is a story. Reactions capture the bit that already exists in WhatsApp threads after every match — the gloating, the disbelief, the running jokes — and give it a permanent home next to the score that caused it.
The picker is small and curated on purpose. Eight reactions, one tap, no custom upload, no GIFs. Anything more would turn the feed into a feature, when the point is to keep it a footnote. The score is the headline. The emoji is the comment your cousin would have left anyway.