Compatibility Calculator

Each name is reduced to one number on the Pythagorean cycle (A=1 through I=9, repeating — the same public map numerology uses). The two numbers are then folded together three fixed ways, each taken mod 101 so the result lands on 0-100: a 7:3 blend called trust, a 3:7 blend called spark, and the straight sum called rhythm. The overall score is their average. Every step is printed and reproducible by hand.

A modulus is what turns any sum into a bounded score — 101 keeps the readings on a 0-100 scale with a prime at the top, which is arithmetic housekeeping, not mysticism. Love's parlor cousins have used 100 or 101 for decades; the page keeps the convention and prints it openly. What the modulus buys is fairness of a sort: every name pair gets the same treatment, including the famous ones, who scatter across the scale like everyone else.

It means the names disagree with themselves under the recipe — strong on one blend, weak on another — and the overall lands mid-scale. Marie & Pierre are the worked default: trust 25 against spark 89 averages to a 62. A split is the most honest thing the page can print, because it shows the arithmetic has no opinion to soothe; one flattened number would hide exactly the part that makes the game worth playing at a table.

Different recipe, same honesty. The love calculator counts two names into one sum and takes it mod 101; this page folds the same letter values three ways and averages. Both are deterministic parlor arithmetic with the folklore labeled as folklore — run a pair through both and the scores will differ, which is the whole epistemological lesson in one drive. Neither page claims anything about any real couple; the fun is in the counting.

Both ends are reachable — the readings run the full 0-100 — but no recipe tweaks, retries, or re-spellings are on offer. The count is the count: change the spelling and you have changed the input honestly, change the verdict and you have done nothing at all. A perfect 100 means the modular arithmetic aligned, not that the stars did; the page prints the number and declines to grade it further.

Yes — the arithmetic counts letters, so Anne and Ann are different inputs, and nicknames are different counts, not errors. Spaces, hyphens, apostrophes, and digits carry no value, so "O'Brien" and "OBrien" count the same. The convention is the same one the numerology page states: the spelling as given is the name of record. If a name produces nothing to count at all, the page says so instead of printing a mystery.

No — and the page is built so it never has to pretend otherwise. No controlled study has found that letter sums predict relationship outcomes, and no weighting of them could. What the arithmetic is: deterministic, transparent, and identical for everyone who runs it. What it is not: evidence. The verdict lines are worded as the tradition's voice, and the honesty note says what the numbers cannot know — which is everything that matters.

Because one number flattens the only interesting part. Three fixed blends show the split vote — strong here, weak there — and make the averaging visible instead of hiding it in a single figure. It also keeps the page honest at parties: the pair that scores 71 overall can see the 78 and the 56 that built it. The recipe never changes to chase a nicer reading; that rigidity is the entire difference between a game and a flattery machine.