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Early Access Edition Tonight’s case — “The Log Is Lying”
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N° 014Murder Party · whodunnit evenings with friends

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Murder Parties, ready to play.

Clone one of these cases for free, rename the suspects, retailor the clues to your table — and host it this weekend.

24 case files

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L'Académie des Arcanes de Montsombre

Une fois par siècle, la nuit du solstice d'hiver, l'Académie des Arcanes de Montsombre rouvre ses portes scellées pour un grand gala. Sous les voûtes ruisselantes de lune froide, les maîtres des cinq disciplines — alchimie, divination, nécromancie, enchantement et magie élémentaire — se rassemblent autour du Grand Archimage Aldérande de Montsombre, qui doit prononcer un décret destiné à refonder l'institution. On murmure des successions, des dettes, des rivalités anciennes. Au moment du toast du solstice, devant toute l'assemblée, l'Archimage porte sa coupe à ses lèvres, vacille, et s'effondre, foudroyé. Les portes se referment d'elles-mêmes : nul ne sortira de Montsombre avant l'aube. Quelqu'un, parmi les invités, a tué le plus grand mage de l'âge. À vous de découvrir qui, comment, et pourquoi — avant que les premières lueurs n'emportent les preuves dans le feu de la crémation rituelle.

11 playersOne eveningArgent et fraude
FR · ENMurder Maker
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Le Domaine des Vendanges Noires

Côte de Nuits, octobre 1928. Au Domaine de Roche-Pendante, le grand dîner de la Paulée réunit la famille Vaucresson, ses gens et quelques invités de marque autour du légendaire Clos du Noyé. Mais au premier mot du toast d'honneur, le vieux patriarche s'effondre, le visage dans son assiette. Onze convives, autant de secrets : un héritage qui bascule, des dettes de cave, une liaison interdite, un chantage feutré et, sous tout cela, une noyade jamais élucidée dix ans plus tôt. Le vin coule encore — à vous de démasquer l'assassin avant le dernier verre.

11 playersOne eveningArgent
FR · ENMurder Maker
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Last Bid at the Vermilion Pavilion

When a lot rare enough surfaces, the Vermilion Treasure Pavilion lowers its mist-bridge and gathers the jianghu's richest outsiders to bid on the Soulflame Lantern — and to face the man they all fear: Cao Wuji, the Gold-Coffer Magnate. The house rule is iron: no qi, no blade, no blood. Then the lanterns dim, and when they rise the Magnate lies dead in an alcove that was never his seat — no wound, only an emptied cup of tea. One evening, 11 players plus a game master: trade secrets and bids, and name the hand that killed in a sealed hall. A wuxia murder mystery where everyone wanted him gone.

11 playersOne eveningFraud16+
ENMurder Maker
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The Log Is Lying

A party of dungeon-delvers seals the door of a Safe Room — the one place in the Spiral Labyrinth where the System forbids all damage. At dawn, their leader is dead anyway: HP 0, in a room where that is impossible. The combat log says [No Damage Taken]. The log is lying. One evening, 9-10 players plus a game master: interrogate the System, trade secrets for Guild Marks, and find the exploit — and the hand — that beat the rules. A LitRPG murder mystery where everyone has an objective, and only one of you knows why the log can't be trusted.

9 playersOne eveningBetrayal14+
ENMurder Maker
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The Author Is Dead

The Obsidian Palace, Founding Night. Before the assembled dynasty, the Imperial Oracle was to read the year's fates from the Fate-Chronicle — the living book whispered to dictate every ending at court. Instead the seer lies dead over her own book, its final page torn away and her silver quill bone-dry — and the page before it foretells her death this very night. With the last leaf gone, no fate is fixed: every name the book had condemned now holds a motive and a clean slate. The palace is sealed until the bells of midnight. Before they ring, the court must name the hand that unwrote Fate.

10 playersOne eveningMurder16+
ENMurder Maker
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Here Be Nothing

For one hundred years the Worshipful Company of Cartographers has held the Crown's monopoly on the shape of the world, and tonight — the Centennial Convocation at Vellum Hall — the Royal Charter must be signed anew before dawn or the monopoly lapses forever. But when the doors open, Grand Cartographer Ambrose Vell is found slumped over the Charter itself, his ceremonial brush still in his hand, his lips stained carmine, the famous signature stopped mid-stroke. A Crown Examiner bars the doors. Wardens, widows, route-finders, foreign collectors and company men are sealed in with the body until the Charter is sealed or the guild dies with its master — and somewhere in the hall, someone has learned that the deadliest thing a cartographer ever draws is nothing at all.

14 playersOne eveningConspiracy12+
ENMurder Maker
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All Routes Lead to Murder

Graduation night at Ravenscroft Royal Academy of Arcane Arts, where the Promising always ends the same scripted way: the Head Boy crowns his commoner sweetheart and the cohort's 'villainess' is cast out. Tonight the script breaks. Florian Hartwell - the Head Boy every route was written to end with - lies dead on the Vow Terrace, and the Warding seals the grounds until dawn. The prefects want one tidy name, and the 'fated' villainess is first to take the fall. An otome-night murder mystery for 11-12 players plus a game master, one evening: work the routes and find the classmate who rewrote the ending.

11 playersOne eveningIntrigue14+
ENMurder Maker
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The Hurricane Court

Gallowsreach, 1721 — the last free port in the Windwards, neutral ground under the Quiet Water Pact: no blood drawn ashore, all quarrels settled at the yearly Reckoning, where the Shore Ledger is read and every crew's shares are weighed. Tonight is the Reckoning — and a hurricane has the whole Brethren fleet bottled in the lagoon while a King's squadron waits somewhere beyond the bar. At dusk, Widow Grace Ossory — the Quiet Water herself, who wrote the Pact thirty years ago and has kept its ledger, its pardon chest and its leading-light ever since — was found at the tideline, drowned. But the tide-wife who laid her out swears the water in her lungs is sweet, not salt. The sea did not take her. Someone ashore did — without spilling a drop of blood. By the Pact's own article, no shares divide while a death ashore stands untried. Three crews, the shorefolk, and a pardon embassy are locked in one Long Room until the storm's eye passes: a court of thieves, trying the murder of the woman who kept them honest.

16 playersOne eveningConspiracy14+
ENMurder Maker
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Dead Air

New Year's Eve, 1938. WVOX — 'the Voice of the Peaks' — broadcasts from a transmitter house on the summit of Mount Hark, and tonight the blizzard has closed the only road down. At 8:10 the nation heard Aurelius 'Gold' Marlowe, radio's beloved Inspector Quill, deliver his New Year monologue live from the announce booth, flawless as ever. At 8:37 the director opened the booth door to fetch him for the second act and found him slumped over a cold microphone, dead. The network's order crackles down the long-distance line: hold the air until the midnight sign-off — music, storm bulletins, anything — and let no one off that mountain. Eight people, one transmitter, one soundproof room, and a voice the whole country would swear it heard alive.

8 playersOne eveningBlackmail12+
ENMurder Maker
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No Fast Way Up

December 1982, the Fulmar Field, North Sea. A hundred and twenty-two metres down, the six divers of the Lantern crew live sealed in a steel saturation chamber, breathing helium, four days of decompression from daylight. Yesterday a crane sling parted in rising weather and severed Dutch Marden's umbilical — crew chief, twenty years a legend. He went to his bailout exactly as trained, and died thirty feet from the bell with a full bottle on his back. Topside calls it an act of God and wants the statement signed before the weather breaks and the inspectors chopper in. But the gauge reads full, the log reads wrong, and there is no fast way up: whoever killed Dutch is breathing the same gas, sealed in the same barrel, all the way to the surface.

6 playersOne eveningBlackmail14+
ENMurder Maker
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The Sin-Eater's Portion

Candle Ness, 1893: a tidal holm with one croft, cut off till the dawn ebb. Old Sarah Hale lies on her wake-board, candles at her head and feet, and the island's sin-eater has come to take her sins the old way — bread and ale passed over the corpse, eaten by him alone. He chewed his bitter portion, remarked that the candles had gone yellow, and died at the board in front of everyone. Now there are two bodies in the wake-room, five living souls locked in by the flood, and a rite that cannot be abandoned: the candles must burn till the ebb. The sin-eater carried thirty years of this island's confessions in his belly. Somebody at the board decided he would carry them under.

5 playersOne eveningHeritage14+
ENMurder Maker
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The Thief of Years

Handover Night aboard the generation ship Perennial — the once-a-generation feast where the waking crew earns its long sleep and the next cohort takes the ship. Here years are the only currency: cryo banks them, the Manifest counts them, and Continuity Officer Ilsa Marek audits every balance. Tonight she sits at the feast table with white hair and a stopped heart — dead of old age at thirty-eight. Someone spent sixty years of her life in a single evening. No Handover can be certified with an unexplained death aboard, and nobody sleeps until a name is signed. Audit the ship: the arithmetic never lies. People do.

11 playersOne eveningConspiracy14+
ENMurder Maker
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You All Meet in a Tavern

Every adventure begins the same way: a hooded stranger, a corner table, a contract. Tonight the Last Torch inn stands sealed from the Ninth Bell to dawn, and twelve sealed summonses have gathered you for the richest job ever posted in Tallowmark — the Great Commission. But when the hood at the corner table is pulled back, the Broker is dead — and has been for an hour. No wound. No poison in his cup. Only a room full of hired strangers and an evening of small, innocent jobs that may add up to something monstrous. The Commission voids at dawn. Ask what your contract was really for.

11 playersOne eveningContract12+
ENMurder Maker
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The Seventh Share

Ten years ago, seven adventurers went into the Weeping Vault and six came out. The Lantern Company sealed their famous Last Haul, swore a ten-year oath, and built a legend on the comrade they left behind. Tonight, at the reunion in Hallowmere Keep, the vault is to be opened at midnight with every survivor present. But their leader, Corvus Dane, lies dead in the trophy hall behind a door barred from the inside — killed with the lost seventh's own memorial dagger. The seventh chair at the table is pulled out. And it is still warm.

11 playersOne eveningHeritage14+
ENMurder Maker
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Slay the Tyrant (0/1)

The dragon is dead. Dawnbreak Hall glitters for the victory feast — yet the kingdom-wide quest banner overhead still reads SLAY THE TYRANT (0/1), and the reward-vault will not open until it ticks. Then, as the first toast is poured, Guildmaster Aldous Crane is found dead in his study — and the banner flips to 1/1. The vault booms open. The Crown's notary demands a name by midnight, or the whole guild hangs together for regicide-by-quest. Someone in this hall completed the quest. Now decide: was it even a crime?

11 playersOne eveningConspiracy14+
ENMurder Maker
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Nobody Lied

High on the mountain, the knights of the Sealed Word gather for the Night of Attestation, when every vow is re-sworn beneath a truth-ward that chars a lying tongue. An hour before the rite, High Justiciar Coram Vhale is found dead in the Oathvault — no wound, heart stopped, a shattered vial of heretic venom at his side. Law demands the rite proceed. Twelve souls swear before the god's own ward: 'I did not kill Coram Vhale.' Twelve clean tongues, one dead man. By dawn the order must seat a successor and hand the crown a culprit — armed with nothing but sharper and sharper wordings.

11 playersOne eveningFaith14+
ENMurder Maker
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Cut From Memory

Katarraktis, tonight. Meridian 'Merry' Okafor — the district's memory-notary, keeper of every escrowed alibi, contract and confession — is dead in her own extraction chair, her final sixty seconds cut cleanly out of her head. By sprawl custom her vault goes under the hammer the same night; at 03:00 a corporate seizure team takes everything left unsold. Everyone who ever trusted her with a memory is here, bidding to buy themselves back. And six mourners each carry a verified first-person memory of holding her hand as she died — same minute, same chair. Human beings don't come in six.

11 playersOne eveningCrime16+
ENMurder Maker
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The Sin-Eater's Last Supper

Marrowfen Hall keeps the old custom: before any burial, the hired sin-eater takes a meal from the corpse's breast and swallows the household's written sins, unread. Tonight, at the matriarch's funeral vigil, Emmanuel Creed falls dead into the funeral loaf — every mourner's sealed confession in his coat, and one lying open on the table, written in the dead woman's unmistakable hand, describing his poisoning before it happened. The fen road is flooded till first bell, the burial cannot proceed with an uneaten sin, and no one living may lawfully eat the one that remains.

11 playersOne eveningBlackmail16+
ENMurder Maker
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The Hollow Tithe

Behind a 24-hour laundromat, a quiet coven has kept an old compact for sixty years: every seventh year one name is drawn from the bowl, one member walks down the maintenance stair, and the city's luck holds. Tonight is Tithe Night — but an hour before first bell, Warden Silas Ansel is found torn open by claws inside a room nothing inhuman can enter, and every slip in the lottery bowl bears his own name. The doors are sealed until a tithe goes down at 3 a.m. Someone at this table rigged the drawing. Someone knows what waits below. And the bowl is still waiting.

12 playersOne eveningExposure16+
ENMurder Maker
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Sixty Heartbeats

Vesperhold keeps the Meridian Clock, and the Clock keeps the world: every midnight it Saves — sixty heartbeats in which everything freezes and nothing can be changed. Last night, between heartbeat one and heartbeat sixty, Clockwarden Ilse Marrow was strangled beside her own escapement. Impossible: during a Save only the ritual Witness can move, and the Witness was Ilse. Now the tower is sealed, every soul in it shares the same perfect alibi, and tonight's midnight is coming. Name the strangler before the freeze — or stand frozen for sixty heartbeats with someone who can walk.

11 playersOne eveningConspiracy14+
ENMurder Maker
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Respawn Denied

In the Vale, death is a toll road: pay your bind-fee at the Lastlight Shrine and the bell brings you back — ten percent lighter, and laughing about it. Torvald Emberhand, the inn's death broker, died at sundown in a friendly spar. Twelve witnesses. One shared joke. But the shrine stands empty, and toll after toll he does not return. Snowbound until the midnight bell — the last before the shrine sleeps till spring — pilgrims, debtors, heirs and one circuit judge must answer a question no one in the Vale has ever needed to ask: who made death permanent?

11 playersOne eveningBlackmail12+
ENMurder Maker
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An Hour Short of Forever

Ninespire has sold death to the calendar. Tonight, by charter and candlelight, Archmage Ottavian Morcere is scheduled to die at midnight and rise immortal — a licensed lich, witnessed by the church, toasted by his heirs. The invitations said formal dress, no resurrection magic. But at eleven o'clock, an hour short of forever, he is found dead in the ritual observatory, the phylactery dark and the sealed will suddenly worth reading. Everyone in the tower profits if his death is true. You have until first light to learn who could not wait one hour — and why the dead man is smiling.

11 playersOne eveningOccult14+
ENMurder Maker
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Sheet Says Otherwise

Ledgerfall's law is simple: your Sheet is your legal self — sworn, sealed, impossible to fake. Tonight is Revision Night, the one night a year petitioners may beg the Assay House to amend their stats, and every door is warded until the sheets are ratified at dawn. Then High Assessor Corvin Tallow is found strangled in his own office — by a grip the coroner's assay fixes at STR 14. No Sheet in the building goes above 12. Someone's paper self is a lie, and at dawn every sheet in the room — the killer's included — becomes irrevocable law for a year.

11 playersOne eveningIdentity14+
ENMurder Maker
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The Cold Ledger

Granary Nine: a seed vault buried under a glacier, ten years into a winter that has not broken. Heat is the only money — every hour of warmth is metered per person and read aloud each night at Accounting, because the ledger has never lied. Tonight the Keeper of the vault is found frozen solid: hours-deep cold in a woman seen walking twenty minutes ago. The ledger says she lived. The body says she didn't. Until dawn Accounting balances every degree in the station, nobody sleeps warm — and one week's arithmetic will not survive being read aloud.

12 playersOne eveningFalse trail12+
ENMurder Maker
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  4. The reveal

    Unmask the culprit.

    Final accusations, then the solution read out loud. Someone at your table has been lying since the soup course.

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