Games for a table rather than a screen. Each deck is split into three heat levels so you can match it to the room, the top tier sits behind an age confirmation, and no card in any of them tells anyone to drink — the forfeit is whatever your group agreed.
The moment a group needs a game is usually one of three: strangers are mixed in and conversation will not start, everyone knows each other and has run out of things to say, or the evening has simply gone flat. The seven games here fit those three situations differently.
What they share is that you bring nothing. No cards, no dice, no app to install and no account to make — one phone in the middle of the table is the whole setup, and the pages keep working if the venue's wifi does not.
The card games — truth, would you rather, dares, most likely to, put a finger down — make conversation. One card produces five minutes of talking, and the deck is really just a way to skip the part where nobody knows what to ask.
The pickers — spin the bottle and dice — make a decision. They answer «who goes first» and «who does it» without anyone having to volunteer or nominate, which is worth more than it sounds at a table where nobody wants to choose.
They combine well. The bottle picks the person, a deck picks the task, and neither needs to know about the other. Most groups end up running exactly that pair without being told to.
Most party-game sites gate their spicy content behind a single checkbox. That fails the ordinary case: a table where two people have known each other for a decade and one person arrived forty minutes ago.
Every deck here is split three ways instead. Mild works with people who just met, hot assumes shared history and a tolerance for small embarrassment, and the top tier — relationships, exes, things people have not told their parents — sits behind an age confirmation.
That confirmation lives in your browser and nowhere else, and dropping the heat level back down locks the tier again. Handing your phone to a different group does not carry your settings into their evening.
Not one card in any of the seven games instructs a person to drink. The forfeit — if your group wants one — is a house rule you agree before the first card, and every game runs identically without it.
This is a design decision rather than a disclaimer. A deck that prints «take a shot» on a card has made a decision about someone's evening that it has no way to be right about, and it makes the same deck useless for the groups who are not drinking at all.
The same reasoning drives what is left out everywhere else: nothing about appearance, money or family, nothing illegal, nothing that involves a person who is not at the table. Those make a card feel spicier and make a group quietly stop playing.
Strangers mixed in: put a finger down. There is no turn order and nothing to explain, so the first round starts ten seconds after somebody suggests it, and answering costs nothing.
A group that knows each other: most likely to, or would you rather. Both need shared history to be funny, and both produce arguments that are better than the game itself.
Energy has dropped: dares on a timer. The clock does the work — a ten-second limit turns naming three capital cities into something worth watching.
Nobody wants to decide something: spin the bottle or roll dice. Three seconds, no negotiation, and nobody has to be the one who volunteered.
These games began as Korean decks, and the cards were written again from scratch for English rather than run through a translation. A prompt about karaoke scoring or leaving a group chat on read assumes habits that do not travel, and a card that needs a footnote has already failed at a table.
What is kept identical is the structure: the same number of cards at each heat level in both languages, so a round runs the same length and reaches the same intensity whichever one you play. A test enforces that rather than leaving it to whoever edits the deck next.
The exclusions are identical too. Both languages draw the line in the same place, which is why the mild tier of any of these can be handed to a table of people who met an hour ago without reading it first.