An open naturalist's field journal showing a graphite sketch of a winged dragon-like monster, beside a hand-drawn hexagonal map and wooden game pieces, lit by a single warm lantern.

Five hunters. One creature. Nobody is allowed to lie.

The monster is somewhere on the map.
You are the only one who can prove it.

A deduction game where the truth is what hides the answer.

Chapter One

Somewhere on this map, the creature is breathing.

You will not be told what it looks like, or how large it is, or whether it has seen you. You will be told one thing — a single, verified detail about where it lives.

That is everything you get.

There are four other hunters at this table. Each of them has been told a different detail. None of them will say theirs out loud. Neither will you.

The creature is sitting in the only place on this map where all five details are true at the same time.

Five hunters in waxed canvas coats clustered around a lantern-lit topographic map at night in a forest clearing, faces lost in hat brims and shadow, a gloved hand pointing at a hex on the map; a brass compass, leather notebook, folding ruler, and a small green-glass jar arranged at the table's edges. — Each hunter holds one piece of the truth. None of them holds enough.

The strange part is this. Nobody is allowed to lie. Every question you ask gets an honest answer. And the truth, asked in the wrong order, is enough to keep a creature hidden from the very people who already know where it is.

You point at a hex. You ask. You watch.

Find it before they do.

The Mechanic

You ask. They answer. The board remembers.

Pick a hex. Ask any other hunter, could the creature be here?

They have to answer honestly. If their clue allows the hex, they place a disc — a yes. If it doesn’t, they place a cube — a no.

Every cube is a piece of someone else’s clue made visible. Every disc narrows the field for the whole table.

When you think you know, you search.

If you are right, you have won. If you are wrong, you have just told everyone something about your card.

Overhead view of a hand-drawn hexagonal topographic map covered in pencil deduction work — X marks through eliminated hexes, a graphite circle around the surviving cluster, three black cubes and two ivory discs placed on hexes, and cursive marginalia in the parchment's edges; a hand at the right holds a graphite pencil mid-stroke. — One cube. One ripple through every other hunter's deduction.

The Table

Three ways to hunt.

Three hunters' hands and torsos clustered around a lantern-lit hexagonal map, one finger pointing at a hex, another hand holding a black cube; an enamel coffee mug, an open notebook, and a green-glass bottle at the table's edges in warm amber light.

Standard

3–5 hunters

The full table. A six-hour board game, run in a browser, as fast as your group can talk.

Two hunters seated opposite each other across a lantern-lit hexagonal map, one hand flat on the parchment, the other holding a black wooden cube; folded clue cards, an open notebook, and an enamel cup on the table in deep chiaroscuro.

Duo

2 hunters

Two hunters, two clues each. Half deduction, half memory. Most hunting games aren’t built for two; this one was.

A single hunter alone at a wooden table late at night, hand pressed to temple, pencil resting on a densely annotated hexagonal map covered in X marks and concentric rings; one lantern, one notebook, one cup, an empty pulled-out chair behind.

Solo

You against the map

Phantom hunters reveal information without taking turns. You pick the difficulty. The board has one answer, and only one, and it is on you to find it.

Under the Hood

The math holds.

The hunt breaks the moment a single rule slips. A clue enforced loosely. A board with two valid answers. A turn that drifts by one. The whole structure collapses into noise.

So nothing slips.

Every move is validated on the server. Every clue is enforced by code, not by trust. Every board has one answer, and only one, and a computer has checked.

Two hundred boards. Verified.

If you’ve ever played a deduction game where a clue almost works, you know how that feels. None of these boards almost work.

The Hunt

The map is waiting.
The clues are dealt.

Somewhere on it, the creature is breathing.

Find it first.

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The monster is somewhere on the map.You are the only one who can prove it.