Every rule. None of the paperwork.
It's the game that took over the living room every Christmas: forty spaces, a pile of cash, and an evening nobody planned to spend arguing about rent. Here the board lies on the glass and the streets are Norwegian: Storgata and Grønland at the start, Bryggen in Bergen, Bakklandet in Trondheim, Polaria in Tromsø, and Aker brygge and Karl Johan at the very end.
The table does the book-keeping. It knows every rent, holds the bank's 32 houses and 12 hotels, keeps the building even and charges the mortgage interest. Your phone only offers what the rules will accept, and a greyed-out row tells you why not. People at a table should be deciding things, not counting.