Blood on the Clocktower

A large chunk of my day was spent building up for a long evening activity out in town. A friend and I signed up to play a game of Blood on the Clocktower (think wink murder/werewolves on steroids). So I sat in a group of 14 strangers and sipped my inclusive pint, quietly preparing my epic bluffs and potential web of lies. About 2 hours in I realized I had mostly checked out of the big debates over who was good and who was evil. Seeing through people's lies and the ensuing drama just doesn't light my fire in a social space as it turns out. To the games credit it did keep me semi involved after I had been murdered and the promise of a sentiant storyteller should make games spicy. In practice, being dead is still dull and the storytellers were ego tripping. The biggest lie I told tonight is when someone asked if I'd be around next week. 'Maybe...'