It’s the oldest game in the world: Beasts race in the field and more beasts bet on them. When you lose, you double down; hold on enough and you’ll break even, maybe turn your luck around. It’s a foolproof system, almost mathematical.
Almost is a great word, though: You can’t almost be a winner. Nor can you almost be alive, for that matter. At what point does chance stop being a game?

In a Martingale everything is decided by combinations: not just the course of events, but the character sheets as well. No role stays the same from one game to the next and the flip of a coin can be enough to change everything.
The result goes beyond heads or tails: What makes a difference is always a clash of intentions, systems and superstition. Every damn race ends right at the photo-finish.