Welcome to the town. You are part of a tight-knit community — but the peace has been shattered. A secret organization, The Mafia, has moved in, and they are eliminating citizens one by one.
Whether you are a humble villager or a cold-blooded murderer, you are playing a role. In this house, we don't "lie" — we perform. Your character's survival depends on how well you play your part.
The game in 30 seconds. Everyone gets a secret card — it tells you who you really are. Most of you are innocent Villagers. A few of you are secretly Mafia. The game alternates between Night (eyes closed — the Mafia secretly picks someone to eliminate) and Day (eyes open — everyone argues about who the Mafia might be, and votes someone out).
The Village wins when every Mafia member has been voted out.
The Mafia wins when they equal or outnumber the remaining villagers — at that point, nothing can stop them.
The Narrator says "Town, go to sleep." Close your eyes. The music comes up. The Narrator will call roles one at a time — only open your eyes when your role is called. If your role is never called, you just keep your eyes closed. That's it. You cannot mess this up.
A victim is revealed, and the arguing begins. Here's the secret nobody tells first-timers: you don't need to know who the Mafia is. Nobody does. Just watch people. Who's too quiet? Who's too loud? Who accused someone a little too fast? Say what you notice. That's the whole game.
Don't study the Special Mechanics before your first game. Twists will be revealed by the Narrator when they happen — that's the fun. All you need tonight: eyes closed at night, open your eyes only for your role, argue by day, and enjoy the chaos.
The Narrator is the architect of this world. Their word is law. Their authority is absolute.
If a dispute arises, the Narrator's decision is final. No arguments.
To maintain the spirit of the game, the Narrator reserves the right to strike down any player, shift the rules, or end a role's life at any time — if it serves the experience.
Don't cross the Narrator. 😂
1 · The Night (eyes closed). The Narrator says "Town, go to sleep." Everyone closes their eyes and the music comes up. Roles are called one by one to perform their actions in silence.
2 · The Day (eyes open). The Narrator says "Town, wake up." The night's victim is revealed. The survivors now begin the most dangerous part of the day: The Deliberation.
Every morning tells one of three stories: a death — the blade landed. A miraculous save — the Doctors caught it. Steel met steel — the Bodyguard caught it. Learn to read the dawn… and notice when the miracles stop.
Depending on the size of the town, some roles have more than one member — Mafia, Doctors, Detectives. Teams wake together and act together. Trust your partner wisely… their loyalty may already be broken.
Finished speaking and chosen your target? Hand in the air. Hand stays up. You stay silent.
Once every hand is up, the Narrator calls the vote. Everyone at once says the name of the person they're voting for.
Received votes? Raise a finger for each. The two players with the most fingers in the air go on Trial.
Both accused plead their case, then turn around — blind to the room — while the group votes by show of hands.
The Undertaker escorts the loser to the Graveyard.
Everyone sleeps. Only then will the Narrator reveal whether the town can "rest any easier" tonight.
If a Mafia member is voted out, the Godfather recruits a new member that night. The recruit wakes with the Mafia and still wakes with their original team. A double life begins.
If a Detective is recruited, they become a Crooked Cop — still waking beside their partner, steering every investigation off course. Their partner suspects nothing.
If a Doctor is recruited, they keep waking with the Doctors — quietly steering saves away from the truth. The moment they become the last Doctor standing (instantly, in a one-Doctor town), the Quack awakens. They still rise to the same "Doctors, wake up" call as always — but now their medicine is poison. The town's guardian angel may be its executioner.
Once the Quack is active, the Mafia still claims one victim per night — but the Godfather chooses the weapon.
The Blade: instant. Certain. Revealed at dawn. But the Bodyguard can catch it.
The Poison: the Mafia stays home; the Quack administers the dose during the Doctor call. It bypasses the Bodyguard — you can't take a bullet that was never fired. But the poison is slow…
When poison is used, the victim is tapped in secret, during the night — no one sees the Narrator's hand. At dawn there is no body — only the words: "Someone in this room is dying." Only the victim knows it's them. They have one day. They die at the next dawn — unless the Quack dies first. Find the poisoner, and the poison never completes.
Claim it aloud, or work in silence? Choose carefully — and remember: anyone can claim to be dying. Only the dawn tells the truth.
The first time the Bodyguard intercepts a kill, he does not die. The Narrator taps him in secret, during the night. The dawn brings the words: "The Mafia struck last night… and steel met steel. No one died." He now secretly holds the most valuable intel in the town — he alone knows who the Mafia tried to kill. But the Vest is spent. The second blade he catches goes through.
When the Bodyguard dies taking a blade for his ward, it is no ordinary death. The Narrator declares that a hero fell — and the Bodyguard earns the one exception to the law of the Graveyard: dying words. One sentence. Strictly one. Name your ward, point a finger, or go out with poetry — then the Undertaker takes you. Dead men tell no tales — but heroes get one sentence.
If the Bodyguard is recruited, he becomes the Turncoat. He still wakes, still points, still performs the hero — but when the blade falls on his ward, he simply steps aside. The town can never again trust that someone will die in their place.
Every night, the Postman sends a letter. The recipient is tapped in secret, while all eyes are closed — and the letter itself is the last thing the town hears before waking. Nobody opens their eyes until the punchline lands. And the Postman is… not well:
"He'd like to take you for a walk… off a cliff."
"He wants to feed you… to a woodchipper."
"He'd love to baptize you… until the bubbles stop."
The letters don't kill. They're clues. Who's been getting mail? Who claims they have? Who's lying about it? Track the letters to find the Postman before you vote him out by mistake — and if the letters ever stop coming… the Postman may already be in the Graveyard.
The first person killed by the Mafia becomes the Undertaker. They stay awake through every night, see the whole truth, and manage the dead. Dead men tell no tales.
Once per game, during Deliberation, any player may call to Inquire of the Dead.
The blind vote: the town closes its eyes and votes by raised hand. It takes two-thirds of the living to open the veil.
The price: if it passes, it replaces that day's Trial — no one is sentenced today. Choose wisely: answers or justice, never both.
The answer: the town agrees on one yes-or-no question and asks it aloud. The Undertaker answers for the Graveyard — one knock for yes, two for no. Any question is fair game. Even "Is [name] in the Mafia?" — you paid a full day for it, and the Mafia still gets their night.
Dead men tell no tales… except once.
The Narrator calls every role, every night, with the same cadence — alive, dead, or turned. An empty call sounds exactly like an answered one. The room learns nothing from the Narrator's voice. Ever.
| Role | 10 | 12 | 15 |
|---|---|---|---|
| Godfather A♠ | 1 | 1 | 1 |
| Murderers K | 1 | 2 | 3 |
| Doctors Q | 1 | 1 | 2 |
| Detectives J | 1 | 2 | 2 |
| Bodyguard 10 | 1 | 1 | 1 |
| Godmother A♥ | 1 | 1 | 1 |
| Postman Joker | 1 | 1 | 1 |
| Villagers numbered | 3 | 3 | 4 |
With one Doctor (10–12 players), recruitment turns them into the Quack immediately. With two Doctors (15+), the recruit plays double agent beside their partner — the Quack only awakens when they're the last Doctor alive.
Bigger tables scale the same way: the Narrator's kit works out the deal for the room.
Your card stays hidden. Period. Showing your card to anyone — flashing it, "proving" your innocence, even by accident — is immediate grounds for death and/or a full reset of the game. The Narrator decides your fate on the spot. You may claim anything with your words. You may prove nothing with your card.
Everything is information. The Narrator's taps, the speed of raised hands, a hesitation before a name — pay attention to all of it.
The voice and the touch. The Narrator's voice is for everyone. The Narrator's touch is a secret — the Postman's letters, the Vest, the poison. If you are tapped, only you know. What you do with that is your business.
No peeking. Keeping your eyes closed is a matter of honor.
Dead men tell no tales. Once you're in the Graveyard, you cannot speak or signal to the living. (You know the one exception.)