As the rain beats mercilessly down on the roof of the building, the 200 condemned souls line up with military precision, ready to march to their fate. None of them know what challenge will await them inside the next room, which cruel trickery the gods of chance will throw at them, what the result of their efforts will be.
They only know that for good or ill, they will be trapped there for the next two hours, scrutinised at every second by the faceless sentinels that patrol their precisely arranged rows.
In agonising silence, they file into the chamber and take their seats. Some are sweating, some are shaking. Some glance nervously towards the door and weigh up their chances of escape. For one, long, excruciating moment, all is still.
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