Torris is played on tiles, but the tile itself is a choice. Hearth is the square board the game was born on. Basalt recuts it into hexagons. Flint shatters it into triangles. The rules never move — slide straight, burn your trail, strand your rival — but the geometry decides what “straight” means, and that single word is a different game each time.
Hearth plays everywhere, rated queues and the Daily included. Basalt and Flint live in Kindling and private boards while the bot ladder learns to read them — Ignite a private board and flip the Shape row to try either tonight.
The square tile sees eight directions: four straight, four diagonal. The diagonals are the spice — they cross the board in fewer tiles than the rows do, and they are why the dead-center tile of a 7×7 outsees every other square on the board. Sizes run 5×5 Turbo, the 7×7 Classic duel, and the 9×9 Grand built for three or four flames.
Every twist, mask, and mode composes with Hearth — the strategy guide is written about this board, and everything in it transfers to the sizes directly.
A hexagon of hexagons: radius 3 is 37 tiles and seats duels; radius 4 is 61 tiles and seats up to four flames. Basalt deletes the diagonal entirely — six directions, each the same weight — so no line is a shortcut and no tile quietly outranks its neighbors the way square's center does.
That evenness is the strategy: with no privileged lines to race for, control comes from adjacency and patience, and a wall of ash bends around you in six directions instead of eight. The Crucible mask returns at radius 4 with a seven-tile molten core, and the Backburn peels hexagonal rings inward until only the single center tile remains.
A triangle of side 9 holds 81 tiles; side 7 holds 49. A straight lane on Flint alternates upward and downward pointing tiles without ever bending — six directions in three families: the rows, the left lean, and the right lean.
Each tile touches only three neighbors, the lowest connectivity of any board, and that scarcity sets the personality: cramped, fast, brutal. One Firebreak closes a third of a tile's exits — nowhere else does a single charge do that much. The apex row is a one-tile death trap, the wide base is the only open ground, and three flames is the native seat count: the board's own symmetry seats a trio more honestly than any square can.
Everything that isn't geometry rides along unchanged: Surge still leaps ash once a game, the four drafted abilities keep their exact text, and Kindling's trainer spars every shape. The Backburn follows the true boundary on Basalt — rings peel inward hexagon by hexagon — while Flint plays Backburn-free for now. What changes is only, and exactly, where a straight line can take you.