Spyfall was originally released in 2014 as a card game, created by Alexandr Ushan. It’s been published by 25 publishers, such as Hobby World, BoardM Factory, and Brain Games. Suggested for 3-8 players 12 and up, the game is a family-friendly party game that anyone can play, strangers or friends and family (“Spyfall”). In this game, the spy tries to remain hidden from the rest of the group while engaging in rounds of questions about a location everyone but them knows. While originally released as a card game, it is also available to play online. I played on the platform netgames.io. Spyfall’s mechanics, especially in small groups, shift the game away from structured deduction and toward intuition-driven social reads done quickly, rewarding dominant personalities like mine while weakening the tension of hidden-role gameplay.
In the past two weeks, I’ve learned that I tend to take on a leadership role in bluffing games. This was evident in Mafia in Studio 1A, where I steered the direction of both of the two games we played, as townsperson and Mafia member. I like trying to solve a game or to deceive by outsmarting the “good” team. Spyfall brought out this side of me. I played with my two friends, Alister and Henry, who are both outspoken and extroverted. There is a unanimous mechanic of the game, where all players must vote the spy out (except the spy themselves) to win the game. In a group of 3, this generally means the first accusation is the one that ends the round, creating a dynamic that incentivises players to accuse first and quickly. This collapses the intended loop of questioning, deduction, and accusation. This resolving action of voting happened much faster than the two-minute timer would allow for in each of our rounds. This dynamic caused us to feel very little pressure from time during the rounds. In one game, Alister started the round and asked me one question; immediately after, I accused her, simply because she took too long to ask the question, and won the game. The resulting emotions can be seen in this photo (we found it very funny):
The stakes of this game feel very low with three people, encouraging players to act recklessly, accusing early and often. The online game didn’t have a rulebook, so we used one on the internet that implied we must ask only “yes/no” questions. This mechanic (that we may have inadvertently self-selected) meant that we as detectives were paying much more attention to the questions people were asking instead of the answers. This gives us very little information, as each person could have a different idea of how they should be asking questions, so deduction was based on intuition and social analysis. I love to play like this and often accused a player because “they were acting suspicious,” which, by nature of the three-person game, was enough for the vote to pass. The aesthetics of this game, particularly discovery and challenge, were enjoyable, but felt less powerful because of the low stakes we as players experienced. More explicitly, the mechanics of questioning and unanimous voting create dynamics of early accusations and low information exchange, resulting in aesthetics of low-stakes and reduced tension. As a result, this makes the game feel less important and the players feel less invested.
I think we would have felt the effect of higher stakes if there were more players in the game, but I think the stakes could also be raised with a timing mechanic. If the time allowed during a round was dependent on the number of players (i.e. x/8 * 120 seconds, 45 seconds for 3 players), then the players would feel both inclined to ask fast and have the challenge of asking questions quickly without waffling. Another mechanic could require that one full cycle of questioning must be completed before accusations can commence, thus increasing the amount of information exchanged. A more fundamental fix would be to alter the voting structure in small groups, since unanimity effectively guarantees that the first accusation ends the round. Instead of one player accusing another, a player states that they are ready to vote. Then each player points to who they think is the spy, requiring each player to go with their own intuition instead of following another’s opinions.
The beauty of Spyfall is the different spies in every round. Every player gets to be in the hot seat, unlike in Mafia, Werewolf, or Avalon, and no one gets eliminated, allowing for equal playing from all parties. The question mechanic is different from any game I’ve ever played, as each question can be interpreted in so many ways. Information is generated by the players instead of revealed via game mechanics. Avalon has a mission structure, giving concrete evidence as to who’s on the evil team. Mafia/Werewolf have elimination phases, which cause the stakes to rise. Lying in Spyfall is more subverted; your demeanor says more about your alignment than your words do.
Overall, I did enjoy Spyfall because it encouraged my playing style: acting loudly and intuitively.
The ethics of lying in a game are complicated. On one hand, its inclusion allows players to practice and normalize something widely recognized as wrong. On the other hand, the effects of lying in a game are somewhat contained within the game, with the caveat that no one’s feelings are hurt. Lying in a game allows us, the players, to fulfill a fantasy we may have in a benign way. When we play a game, we are stepping into the “Magic Circle” and agreeing on rules of conduct that include lying and bluffing. Mechanics and procedures either encourage lying or require it outright. This is in contrast to lying in the real world, where lying is harmful and violates trust. Thus, lying in games is not morally wrong. We find engaging in taboo social practices exciting because we’re not supposed to do them, so bluffing games scratch a particular itch that some people have, while protected by the confines of the “Magic Circle.”
Works Cited:
“Spyfall (2014).” BoardGameGeek, https://boardgamegeek.com/boardgame/166384/spyfall. Accessed 10 Apr. 2026.
