A murder game for two, at your own kitchen table. You hold half the evidence. They hold the other half. The case asks ten questions and will not move on until you agree.
Two halves. One each. Never the other person's.
Persons of interest · 05 March 2026
Four people were inside the building, or just outside it, that evening. Each of them told the Sheriff's Office where they were and when. These are their answers.
26-P-0118
26-P-0119
26-P-0120
26-P-0121Only one of those four times is contradicted by a document in the file.
Not by a hunch, not by a feeling. By a piece of paper you will be holding. Finding it is the first twenty minutes.
Try one move before you buy it
Two real exhibits, one out of each file. At the table you'd never see them at once. Put them side by side.
Q: Had you spoken to Ms. Vance earlier that day?
A: I called her at ten to eight. Nine-fifty. Sorry, 7:50. It didn't ring through. No answer, no voicemail, nothing.
DCSO CID · 26-DC-4471 · EXHIBIT A-02 OF 9
| 19:50:12 | voice outbound | 0 s, no connect |
| 20:03:44 | data | C-7 |
| 20:22:09 | data | C-7 |
| 20:38:19 | data | A-3 |
| 21:47:31 | voice to 911 | 6 min 12 s |
Certified by records custodian · 06 MAR 2026
He said 7:50.
The network says the call never connected.
That one is small, and it's the easiest in the case. Eight of the deductions need one document from each of your hands. That's why one of you can't do this alone, and why you'll end up arguing.
One takes File A. One takes File B. Never the other person's, not once.
Contents of the file
Not a page count on a badge: the actual list, with the actual lengths. Half of it goes to one of you and half to the other.
The part nobody else has
It knew who did it before you sat down. It isn't going to tell you.
Step one of ten. Not a mockup:
this is the file you receive.
You get one instruction. They get a different one. Neither is the whole thought.
Every other murder mystery needs somebody who already knows. That person never gets to play.
You'll never be truly stuck. But the number in the corner only goes up.
The solution shipped with your files, locked. You get the password after you've committed.
No. Most people read on their phones. Printing is an option, not a requirement.
No. Nothing ships, ever. Two links arrive by email in about 30 seconds. Nothing to download, nothing to unzip, nothing to install.
The email has two links. One is yours, the other you forward to whoever is playing with you. It opens in their browser, on any phone, and it never shows them your half.
Three levels of hint, whenever you want them. Nothing in the case is unknowable.
About two and a half hours, in ten steps. You can stop after any step and come back the next evening: it reopens where you left it, on the same device.
You can, but you would be holding both halves, and not knowing what the other person is holding is half of what makes it work. It is built for two.
Neither. Your half opens in the browser you already have, on a phone, a tablet or a laptop. Nothing to install, nothing to sign up for, no password to invent.
That's most people who play it. Nothing to set up, nothing that makes noise, and you can stop and pick it up tomorrow without losing your place.
No. It's paperwork. The worst thing in the case is a bank statement.
While it is being played
Nobody hosts it. Nobody has read the ending. You each hold half the evidence, the case asks you ten questions, and it will not move on until you agree on the answer.
We put both phones in the other room, which we have never once done for anything. Two hours later mine was still in there and I was holding the same page for the fourth time, looking for the line that did not fit.
She kept reading her page out loud and I kept saying that is not what mine says. That argument is the game. Ten minutes in we had a pen out and we were writing on the table.
Paid at nine. By ten past we were arguing about a phone record. Nothing to build, nothing to print unless you want to, nothing to wait for.
Nobody had to sit out and run it. Every other one of these needs a person who already knows the ending, and that person is always me. This time I got to play.
Two hours forty for us, not two and a half. We took one hint, on question seven, and I am still not over it.
I printed mine because I like paper. He read his off his phone on the sofa. After ten minutes neither of us noticed the difference.
It asks you a question and it will not move until you both answer. You cannot drift off and let the other one carry it. By question four we were leaning over the same sheet.
We named the wrong person. It let us, then it opened the file and showed us the exact page where we had stopped reading properly. That stung more than losing.
You have an evening coming up that hasn't been decided yet. Four people gave a time, one of them is lying, and the paperwork knows which one. It takes about thirty seconds to start.