This page is about the service, not about tactics: what you need to start, what an account gets you, what is stored on your device, what is for sale. A question about play gets one sentence and the name of the strategy guide that owns it — those guides are written in French, and are the one part of the site that isn’t translated. Every figure quoted here is read off the code.
Skydo is a card game that runs in your browser. Everyone is dealt twelve cards laid out in three rows of four, all face down, and flips just two of them before the first turn. Values run from -2 to 12, and the lowest total wins. A turn is set out from end to end in “Game rules”.
Nothing at all. The game opens in any recent browser, on a computer or a phone: no download, no plugin, no app store — and a manifest file lets you add it to your home screen. An online game uses a permanent WebSocket connection; if your network refuses one, solo play still works, since it talks to nobody.
Paying, never: nothing that is played is for sale. Signing up, almost never: solo play, online tables and the table code all open without an account — you pick a nickname of two to twenty characters, and you play. Only the ranked queue asks for an account, because a rating is attached to it.
A guest session is forgotten after twelve hours of inactivity; an account session lasts a year and follows you from one device to the next. What an account adds is set out further down.
You set the length yourself. Rounds follow one another until a player reaches the target score, fixed when the table is opened: from 50 to 500 points, in steps of 50, 100 by default — and the most common values are one click away. Each turn can be given a deadline as well: from 20 to 90 seconds, 45 by default. There is a “no limit” setting too, and it comes at a price: with no deadline, a table waits for ever on whoever isn’t playing.
In one click, from the solo page. You choose the level of your opponents, how many of them — one to five — and the target score, from 50 to 500 points in steps of 50, exactly as at an online table. Everything is then worked out inside your browser: once the page has loaded, nothing else depends on the network.
Three numbers and one privilege: how many round endings are simulated before a choice, how often a move is played at random, how much thinking time is allowed — and, for the Master alone and in solo play alone, the right to know the draw pile. What each one is like to play against, and which to pick to train, belongs to “Ce qui change vraiment entre les quatre adversaires”; the hood comes off in “Comment l’adversaire artificiel choisit son coup”.
Because it is played at your end, and the server sees none of it: what it hasn’t refereed, it can’t count. To earn experience, pearls and badges, open an online table and fill it with bots — same opponents, same game, but refereed. What such a table earns, and at what reduction, is worked out in “Progresser sans y penser : le barème de l’expérience en chiffres”.
From the home page, with one button. You name it, set the number of seats, the target score and the turn deadline, then decide whether it is private and whether spectators are allowed. A public table appears in the lobby of open tables; a private one is joined by its code and by nothing else.
For bringing in whoever you like, with no account and no invitation by name: you only have to read it out. It is six characters drawn from an alphabet of thirty-two symbols with the most ambiguous ones taken out — no O and no zero, no I and no one — so that a code read aloud is never written down wrong.
Two to eight, four by default, bots included. The deck allows for it easily: dealing eight grids of twelve cards and then opening the discard pile uses 8 × 12 + 1 = 97 cards out of 150. Empty seats are filled with computer opponents, at any level, and a seat that frees up can be taken by a newcomer.
It depends on one setting alone, the turn deadline. When the table has one, it takes over: the player is marked away, and when the deadline passes the server plays a legal move for them. When the table was opened with “no limit”, there is no moment at which anyone could say a turn had been let slip, and the game waits.
A resume token kept in your browser then gives you back your seat and your grid, page reloads included. Leaving on purpose is another matter: the seat is freed and no longer waits for you.
It keeps what you do. It carries your nickname from one device to the next, and opens up experience, quests, badges, the leaderboards, the ranked queue and your inventory. It asks for an email address, a password, the nickname you already use and your acceptance of the terms of use, and nothing else: no name, no date of birth, no bank details. The password itself is never kept, only a hash of it.
By playing online games through to the end, and in no other way. An abandoned table earns nothing, and neither does a game in which the server played most of your turns for you: the scale depends on your actually being there. No purchase and no advertisement credits a single point. The detail is set out in “Progresser sans y penser : le barème de l’expérience en chiffres”.
Three daily and two weekly quests run at the same time, drawn from a larger pool and the same for everyone on a given day. They pay out pearls, the currency cosmetics are bought with, and never an advantage in play.
Badges, nine of them, mark something already done and are never taken back. The full list of both, what each quest really pays and the condition for the hardest badge are set out in “Progresser sans y penser : le barème de l’expérience en chiffres”.
The leaderboards — worldwide, by country, by region — take accounts only, from five finished games onward, and you can take yourself off them whenever you like. The ranked queue is something else entirely: it opens at level 10 and keeps a rating of its own, which has nothing to do with those tables. It is “Le classement expliqué par son barème : d’où viennent vos points” that sets out the arithmetic, line by line.
Looks: card backs, table themes, palettes, profile frames and avatars, sounds, flip effects, particle trails, and bundles of five pieces. Everything is paid for in pearls. The shop stays closed until the publisher is registered, and the game is entirely free.
It changes nothing about what is played. The engine ignores the catalog: the value stays printed on every card whatever the palette, and a flip effect never changes how long a turn takes.
By playing, first of all: quests are what pay them out, daily and weekly. You can also buy them: the smallest pack is at the flat rate of 100 pearls for €1, the price in pearls being the price in cents, and the larger packs add bonus pearls on top.
They never convert back into money, they cannot be transferred, and no pack has random contents. Palettes cost 300 pearls, the other pieces 500 to 700.
It removes the advertising slots and adds a supporter badge to your profile. It costs €2.99 a month or €29.90 a year, credits no pearls, and touches neither the rules nor the leaderboards. It goes off sale as soon as advertising stops running: we don’t sell the removal of something that no longer exists.
Yes, within fourteen days. For a pack of pearls, the refund covers the pearls you have not spent; those already spent are not refunded, since spending them unlocked an item for good. For a subscription, it covers the price less the share matching the period already served. The “Right of withdrawal” page, at the foot of every screen, lists the contracts still within the deadline; your declaration is timestamped there, and the refund follows within fourteen days at most.
A session cookie, signed and out of reach of the page’s scripts, which is how you are recognized from one request to the next. Then, in local storage: your nickname, your resume token, your display preferences and your cookie choice. All of it is strictly necessary for the service you asked for, and therefore exempt from consent.
By our own servers, in France, with no third-party tool. What gets recorded is the path of the page, the time, the site you came from if there is one, the browser family, the type of device, and an identifier valid for one day, worked out from your IP address, your browser and a secret drawn at random every day. That IP address is never written down.
The measurement puts nothing on your device: the checkbox in the banner therefore collects no consent, it opens a right to object, and clearing it stops the counting for good. How long each record is kept is set out in the privacy policy.
Never during a game: a banner refreshing in the middle of a turn would shift the table under your fingers. Ads take six conditions met at once — a declared publisher, a configured ad network, an identified slot, no subscription running, a page you came to read rather than a table, and the verdict of a certified consent platform.
That platform loads first and asks its question in a window of its own; the advertising script is only called afterwards, once your answer is recorded, and not at all if the platform never replies. Two windows therefore sit side by side: ours is about audience measurement, theirs about ads.
A card’s value is always written in figures: no information depends on color, which is what makes it possible to sell palettes without selling an advantage. One of them, designed for deuteranopia, is free; every one of them holds a contrast of at least 4.5:1.
The system’s “reduced motion” preference is honored, animation speed can be turned down, and the table stays playable with animations off altogether: an animation is a comfort, never a step in the game.
At contact@skydo.fr, for a question about the game as much as for a request about your data; no other contact detail is asked of you. If you have an account, downloading your data and deleting it are both immediate from there. The game lives at skydo.fr: the same name in .com belongs to an unrelated company.