Have you ever heard of the game 'Werewolf'?

It’s a simple game with three adorable canines and nine beastly hunters, or with nine brave heroes and three malice-filled monsters.

Hm. Maybe something so double-edged isn’t quite so ‘simple’. But the rules go like this -

Every night, the Wolves gather and murder one of the eight ‘Townspeople’.

During the day, the Townspeople vote for who to execute in revenge. But while the Wolves know their packmates, the Townspeople are completely in the dark as to who’s innocent or guilty. They must make their best guesses.

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The killings continue until all the Wolves are dead, or all the villagers have perished, and the side with survivors is the one that wins.

Try playing it with friends some time. It’s really fun!*

*This game is also known as ‘mafia’ by the way.

But have played it like this, in circumstances like these…how could anyone have ever called this Werewolf?

If I play Werewolf at a party, when the game ends the dead rise again from their graves. We laugh and talk about our misplays, our misunderstandings, and drink and eat and dance.

When people explain the rules, no one ever has to tell us ‘‘the dead return to life after the game ends." That just goes without saying.

But looking back on what happened, that ‘no one really dies’ is Werewolf’s final and most important rule.

We broke that rule again, and again, and again and again and again. I’m about to tell you about the most deadly week of my life.