Everyone holds up five fingers. A prompt is read out, and anybody it is true for puts a finger down. The first person with no fingers left is out. That is the whole game, which is why it works with people who have just met — nobody has to learn anything before the first round. Thirty-six prompts sit across three heat levels, and the top tier is kept behind an 18+ confirmation.
The prompts are written so that admitting the answer is the joke — nothing here is meant to expose someone who would rather stay quiet.
Nobody is asked to prove anything. If someone puts a finger down and says nothing more, that is a complete turn.
Your heat level and the drawn cards stay in this browser, and the 18+ confirmation is cleared as soon as you move back down a level.
There is no turn order, no scoring to explain and no skill involved, so the first round starts about ten seconds after somebody suggests it. That matters more than it sounds: most party games lose the room during the explanation, not during play.
It also gives everyone something to say without asking anyone to perform. Putting a finger down is a complete answer. People who would never volunteer a story end up telling one anyway, because the prompt already did the awkward part for them.
And it surfaces things a group did not know it had in common. Half the table dropping a finger on the same prompt starts more conversation than any single confession does.
A prompt is doing its job when roughly a third to two thirds of the table puts a finger down. If everyone drops one, nothing is learned and the round is just faster. If nobody does, the prompt is wasted.
That means the useful prompts sit on common-but-not-universal habits — ordering delivery three times in a week, being under 20% battery, never having learned to drive. Each is ordinary enough that admitting it costs nothing and specific enough that it splits a room.
Prompts that single out one predictable person are the failure case. If a group of eight has exactly one person who has been to a festival, that card is not a game, it is a spotlight, and everyone can feel the difference.
Mild stays on habits and logistics: sleep, food, travel, phone battery. Anyone can answer these in front of anyone, including a colleague or somebody's parent.
Hot moves to admissions — calling in sick when you were not, slipping out before the bill, blocking someone quietly. Still ordinary, but they assume the table is comfortable enough that a small confession is funny rather than costly.
The top tier is relationships and history. It is behind an age confirmation not because it is explicit, but because it is the tier where an answer can genuinely change how people in the room see each other. A group should reach it on purpose.
Decide up front whether a finger goes down for «technically yes». Groups that leave it open spend the whole game litigating edge cases, which is more tedious than any prompt.
Agree that no one has to elaborate. The finger is the answer; the story is optional. Without that rule the game slowly turns into a truth game, which is a different evening and should be chosen rather than drifted into.
For a longer round start with ten fingers instead of five. With more than eight players, five fingers can be gone in four prompts and the game ends before it warms up.
The English prompts are written from scratch rather than translated. The Korean deck leans on things like karaoke scores and the specifics of a first part-time job, which either need a paragraph of explanation elsewhere or simply do not split an English-speaking room.
What matches exactly is the shape: the same number of cards at each heat level, so the game runs the same length and reaches the same intensity in either language. A test enforces that, so the two decks cannot drift apart as cards are added.
Both decks avoid the same things — appearance, money, family, anything illegal, and anything that instructs a person to drink. Those exclusions are the reason the mild tier can be handed to a table of strangers without reading it first.
Everyone holds up five fingers. A prompt is read aloud, and everyone it is true for lowers one finger. The first person to lose all five is out, and the last person with a finger up wins. There is nothing else to learn, which is why it is a common opener with a new group.
Three works, five to eight is the sweet spot, and it holds up past ten because everyone answers at once rather than taking turns. Below three, too few prompts split the room and the game ends in a handful of rounds.
No. It is usually played as one, but no prompt in this deck tells anyone to drink. Losing a finger is the whole penalty unless your group adds one.
The top tier is about relationships and past history rather than habits. It is kept behind a single confirmation so a group that did not choose it never sees it, and moving the heat level back down locks it again.