How to play

Only Humans Score

A machine paints a clue and bluffs alongside you. It can guess. It can never score. That part is yours.

First, the one hard requirement: you cannot play this alone.

The whole law is that only humans can score — and one human isn't a table, it's a person talking to a machine. The floor is three humans. So before anything else: get up, and grab at least two coworkers.

Yes — this means you, whoever sent you here. There's no solo mode, no single-player demo, no way to evaluate it from one chair. The game does not make exceptions. Go find two people. We'll wait.

What you need

  • Three to nine humans. You plus two coworkers is the smallest real table; nine is the ceiling.
  • One screen to pass around. Same room, one device — phone or laptop. It hands off seat to seat.
  • The machine shows up on its own. Charlissian — the machine — always takes a seat, even at the smallest game. So it's always AI versus human, never humans alone.
  • About a minute per human, plus three. A five-person table runs roughly eight short rounds.
The Smoker’s Clause. A game should respect your break. This one is timed to a single vice — one cigarette, one coffee, or one watercolor, whichever is closest to hand. Long enough to matter. Short enough to finish before the kettle clicks off.

The loop

One round, start to finish. Then the Captain's seat rotates and you go again.

  1. A rotating Captain secretly feeds the machine a word — a thing, a name, an idea. Everyone else looks away.
  2. The machine paints it — in words, for now — a clue that circles the secret without ever saying it.
  3. Everyone names what they see. The Captain bluffs a name like everyone else. And the machine drops its own guess into the lineup, disguised as one of you.
  4. The table crowns. Out loud, together, you pick the best name, the worst, and whoever caught the machine. (Scoring is the humans' job — the machine doesn't get a vote.)
  5. The Captain's chair passes to the next human. Play until everyone has captained, plus three.

The four crowns

Points come from being memorable, not safe. Best and worst both ascend; the mediocre middle is the only way to lose.

The Sublime

The best name of the round. Conviction, wit, the one that makes the table stop.

The Troll

The worst — and it scores too. A glorious disaster beats a forgettable guess.

The Flag

Caught the machine. You pointed at the disguised guess and you were right.

The Imposter

A human who got mistaken for the machine. Enters at four or more humans.

The whiteboard — key terms

Every word the table uses, pinned to the board.

The Captain The rotating host. Whispers the secret to the machine, then bluffs a name like everyone else. The chair passes each round.
Charlissian The machine. Always at the table, even at the smallest game. It paints and it guesses — it can never score.
The secret The word the Captain hands the machine. It paints the secret as a clue without ever naming it.
The clue / the painting The machine's rendering of the secret — in words for now, a real image later. What everyone names.
✨ The Sublime The best name of the round. Conviction and wit. It scores.
🧌 The Troll The worst name — gloriously bad. It scores too. Best and worst both win; the middle is the only loss.
🚩 The Flag You pointed at the machine's hidden guess and were right. Catch it and you score.
🥸 The Imposter A human mistaken for the machine — at four or more humans. Passing as the machine scores.
The Forgery Deck Names arrive pre-dealt, like ad copy. Pick one off the wall, or forge your own.
🔥 The hot streak Lock names fast and you catch fire — your scores pin at ×3. Relaxed mode turns the timers (and the fire) off.
The ration Free games per day. The first week after launch is uncapped, and your very first playthrough is always free.
The Vault Your saved scores and the machine's paintings — kept on your own device, clearable anytime.
🪪 The Curator's License Win the night and mint the proof — your face on a clearly fake license. Made on your device; the photo never leaves it.

House rules

Agreeing to play is agreeing to these.

  • Eighteen and over. This is an adult table.
  • No porn. Cross that line and the table flips — everyone loses the round. The one bright line.
  • No faces, no famous. The machine paints things, not people — no real faces, no celebrities. A likeness is a right that isn't yours to spend.
  • The record is kept, depersonalized. What got made and judged may be studied, anonymously. Who you are is never kept — so don't type personal details into a name.
  • Relaxed mode. Toggle it at setup to drop the timers and the speed bonus for an unrushed, fully accessible table. No one should need fast hands to be counted.

Now go build a table

You've read the rules. The only thing left is the part you can't do at a desk by yourself.

Open the museum → (seriously — go get the coworkers first)