A social deduction game for 5–10 players, about thirty minutes. One phone. No downloads. Find the infiltrators before the last protocol falls.
Roles are dealt in secret at the start. What you know about the others depends entirely on which one you drew — and everything you say for the rest of the night is read through it.
Station personnel, working to stabilise Helix-9. You know nothing but your own loyalty — no list, no signal, only what happens at the table.
You know who the infiltrators are. Steer the crew without ever being obviously right — because if the Executor names you at the end, they take the whole game.
Two names, one of them the Analyst. Working out which is the evening's job.
Hidden among the crew, and you know your own. Get sent on protocols, corrupt them quietly, and keep the mask on while the table argues about someone else.
You corrupt like the others — but if the crew wins, you get the last word: name the Analyst, and the win changes hands on the spot.
The Phantom is invisible to the Analyst's scan. The Isolated is cut off from their own side. The Double hides inside what the Observer sees.
The same game, two ways to sit at it. Both start in under a minute and neither asks for an account.
Names go in clockwise, in seating order, and the circle fills as you type — so the game's table is your table.
The phone goes round. Before each file the screen covers itself and says whose turn it is; infiltrators see their allies light up on the circle.
Two to five people, depending on the round and the table. Picked by touching them on the circle, where everyone can watch it happen.
The phone goes round again, one vote each, sealed until they are all in. Then the capsules turn over together.
In secret, still passing the phone. Crew can only stabilise. Infiltrators choose — and nobody ever learns who did what. One corruption sinks it, except the fourth protocol at seven players or more, which needs two.
Three repaired and the crew wins — unless the Executor is still holding the last word.
The host gets a four-letter code and reads it out loud. That is the whole setup.
Each player opens the link on their own phone, types a name and takes a seat on the circle — so the ring matches the room.
Type /tv on any screen, then the room code. It shows the table, the
score and who has voted — never a role, never a ballot.
No passing. Your role lives behind a held press on your own phone, so a glance over your shoulder gets nothing.
Everyone votes at once and the circle fills in real time — who has voted, never what they voted.
Seals, counts, turns the capsules over and starts the next protocol. Nobody has to be the referee.
No shared device, no waiting your turn to see a screen. Open the room from your own phone, take a seat on the circle, and the table updates itself — sealed votes, protocol results, who's still deciding — the moment it happens, on every screen at once.
The host reads four letters aloud. Everyone else opens the room, types a name and takes a seat on the circle — that is the whole join.
A sealed vote, a corrupted protocol, someone taking a seat — every phone sees it the instant it happens, not on a refresh.
Something has to process the count so the round keeps moving, but nobody has to remember whose turn it is or read a rule out loud.
Type /tv on the television, then the room's four letters —
dictated across the room, no punctuation to find on a remote. It draws the same circle the
phones do, sized for the back of the room, and it never has anything to press.
Who's coordinating, who's been sent, protocols repaired versus corrupted, how many have voted — the shape of the score, not the substance of a ballot.
A role. A single vote. Anything to press. Read-only is a rule the television keeps as strictly as the game keeps it from a glance across the table.
Winning the argument is not winning the game. Every crew victory has to survive the Executor naming the Analyst — so the best Analyst is the one nobody could point at.
Pass & Play, Companion and the TV board are the same circle, drawn by the same rules engine on every surface — nothing shown on a projector can drift from what the table is actually holding.
No app, no account, no download. Open a link and you are running a mission in under a minute — in English, Romanian, Spanish, French or German.
Not skins. The whole room changes — sky, hull, the light in the core, and this page with it. What never changes is the mint of a repaired protocol and the red of a corrupted one: those two are information, not decoration.
It stays a web page — it just stops looking like one: its own icon, full screen, no address bar. Nothing is downloaded and nothing asks for an account.
Apple gives no button for this — no website can do it for you.
If no button appears, your browser keeps it in its own menu — look for “Install app” or “Add to Home Screen”.
About thirty minutes. Five protocols, and the arguing between them is most of it.
Five at the table, ten at most. Under five there is nowhere for an infiltrator to hide.
One phone, passed around — or a phone each, if you want the Companion mode. Any browser, on anything. Nothing to install unless you want the icon.
Pass & Play runs on the one device, so no. Companion and the television talk to each other over the network, so yes.
No. No sign-up, no email, nothing stored about you — a room is four letters and it disappears when the evening does.
English, Română, Español, Français and Deutsch — chosen on the first screen and changeable from the drawer mid-game.
The game is free and stays free — no ads, no accounts, nothing to unlock. If an evening of it went well, you can keep the station running.