Whale-a-day

Whale-a-day starts from a game of Blood on the Clocktower from which no one walked away alive. You arrive after the fact, as a traveler, with in front of you everything the town said and did during its final days and nights: the roles claimed, the information announced, the deaths at dawn. Your job is to assign the true role to each seat. At the center of the circle watches the Witness, an eye that saw everything and that will confirm whether a statement is true or false, but only a limited number of times, and that's the whole tension of the game.

1. Read the chronicle, divided into numbered nights and days. Every speaking turn appears there with the role the player claimed and what they announced they had learned; the deaths are recounted between them.
2. Assign a role to each seat in the circle with the "+ ROLE" button. The selector sorts roles into Townsfolk, Outsider, Minion and Demon, and separates the starting role from the current role.
3. Spend your checks. Each declaration has a REVEAL button marked "1 OF 5": the Witness will tell you whether it was true.
4. Lock the seats you're sure about, the LOCKED counter going up to eight on the day's vigil, then turn in your copy with SUBMIT ATTEMPT.

Because it's the only truly new angle on Blood on the Clocktower: instead of playing the game, you perform an autopsy on a game already lost. All the social information is there, frozen: who claimed what, on which night, just before dying. All that remains is the work of reading, without a table, without negotiation, without time pressure. The Witness is a find: a limited number of true/false answers, which turns each check into a strategic decision rather than comfort. The whole presentation is dressed in the tone of a vigil, and the game takes the trouble to teach its own grammar in six parts before letting you loose on a table of twelve.

Feedback is rationed, and that's exactly the point. Three counters hold the banner: the current round (ROUND 1/5), the checks you have left (REVEALS 5/5), and the seats already locked (LOCKED 0/8). Just below, the board constantly reminds you of the table composition (five Townsfolk, one Outsider, one Minion and one Demon) which works like a bag constraint: what you give to one seat you remove from another. The Witness never names anyone: it only answers true or false to a sentence you choose.

The day's vigil

A new vigil every day, each with its own number and table size.

Archive

A calendar button opens past vigils, each dated, numbered and labeled with its table size.

Learning

Six short introductory games: the first guided, which points out each command at the moment it is used, then five that teach one idea at a time up to a full table of twelve players.

Practice

A practice mode appears among the site's entries.

• The announced composition is a constraint, not decoration. Five Townsfolk, one Outsider, one Minion, one Demon: each assignment removes one elsewhere, and many seats resolve by saturation rather than by reading.
• Beware seats that have changed: the selector separates the starting role from the current role, and the two halves lock separately, so finding one reduces the possibilities of the other.
• The Witness cannot adjudicate everyone: the REVEALS counter is limited, so it's better to spend them on declarations whose falsehood would tip the rest of the board, not on those that merely intrigue.