A handful of rough edges, smoothed. Coppervale's folk move like they mean it, the numbers over a scrap read clean, and the rain remembers which way is down.
Townsfolk find their feet — The people of Coppervale no longer hesitate between steps or slide to a stop. They face the way they're walking and settle where they land.
Damage you can read — The numbers from a hit now sit clearly above the trees and rooftops, instead of slipping behind whatever you're fighting beneath.
Rain that falls down — A quirk that let a shower drift slowly upward is gone; rain and storms come down the way they should.