The shared screen
Cecil narrates aloud, puts the evidence up for everyone, keeps the clock and calls you back together. When he whispers to someone, an envelope glows beside their name. Everyone sees that it happened. Only they know what he said.
Coming soon
Cecil requests the pleasure of your company at
Sir Edmund rang for his port at eleven. By midnight he was dead.
An AI-hosted murder mystery for one table of friends. The big screen tells the story. Your phone tells yours. And Cecil, the butler, knows every secret in the room.
Your host
“Good evening. I am Cecil, butler at Ravensmere Hall these forty years, and I shall be your host tonight.”
“Regrettably, Sir Edmund Ravensmere is dead.”
Cecil runs the evening. He narrates out loud, keeps the clock, lays out the evidence and conducts the final accusation, so every person at the table gets to play.
He also knows everything: every character, every secret, and who did it. He is immaculate, dry, faintly sinister, and far too fond of mischief.
Put a question to him
Cecil says: “You may put one question to me.”
Thursday night, November 1978
At dinner, Sir Edmund announced that he would “set things right” with his solicitor at nine the next morning. He did not say what things. He did not live to say.
Sir Edmund rings for his nightcap.
Cecil leaves a tray of port on the side table outside the study door.
The study door opens and closes. Sir Edmund has taken it in.
Cecil finds him at his desk. The glass smells faintly bitter.
For fifteen minutes, the tray stood alone in the corridor. Every guest has a story about where they were. Not all of those stories are true.
“I am no physician, but I have read a great many novels.” Cecil
How it plays
Everyone sits around one table. A laptop, or a TV plugged into one, is the shared screen. Every phone is private, and every phone is different.
Cecil narrates aloud, puts the evidence up for everyone, keeps the clock and calls you back together. When he whispers to someone, an envelope glows beside their name. Everyone sees that it happened. Only they know what he said.
Who you are. The story you’re telling. The secret you’re hiding, and what you noticed tonight. The rooms you search, the answers Cecil gives you and every word he whispers. Nobody else sees any of it.
One of you is the murderer.
Only they know. Roles are dealt at random when the evening begins, so it could be anyone at the table. It could be you.
Each act, you search one room of the house and only you see what’s there. Share it with the table, or keep it for the vote. “Whether you share it,” says Cecil, “is entirely your affair.”
Your phone buzzes and the big screen announces that Cecil has had a word with you. He may have told you something vital. He may have told you nothing at all. Nobody else can tell which.
Cecil asks one of you to open it. The photograph goes up for everyone; the back is seen by the opener alone. Somewhere in the house is a locked drawer, and a last recording that only whoever opens it will hear.
One evening, six parts
Everyone scans the code on the big screen and types their name. Nothing to download. Short of guests? AI guests take the empty chairs.
Cecil explains the death. Every phone buzzes with a private dossier. Read it quietly. One of you has just learned that they did it.
Evidence goes up for everyone. You each search one room in private and put one yes-or-no question to Cecil. The AI guests can be questioned too, and they answer out loud.
Envelope Two is opened, and Sir Edmund’s locked drawer is within reach of anyone clever enough to open it. If nobody manages it, Cecil’s hints grow less subtle.
Everyone votes on their own phone, in private. You can change your mind until the very end.
Cecil explains what really happened, then shows the votes, the scores, everyone’s secrets and every piece of mischief he got up to.
How you win: accuse the murderer and you score. The murderer scores for getting away with it, and for every person they mislead. Cecil’s secret tasks earn a point each.
Cecil’s mischief
At set moments in the evening, Cecil chooses a move and plays it. Some are gifts. Some are traps. You won’t always know which.
A real clue, slipped to one player alone.
“Look at Dr Hale and say: ‘I know where you were at ten past eleven.’ You don’t.”
“I have nothing for you. But the others don’t know that. Do look worried.”
A true secret about someone else. Then he tells them that he told you.
“Within ninety seconds, get someone else to say the word ‘port’.”
“Interesting. Three of you have just received information. One of you hasn’t.”
He notices things, too. Search someone’s room and they’ll hear that somebody has been in there. Not who.
“Who killed Sir Edmund?”
“If I told you that, what would the rest of you do all night?”
Who’s who
Who you play is dealt at random when the evening begins.
Sir Edmund’s niece and, until tomorrow morning, his heir.
Sir Edmund’s physician for twenty years, and his oldest friend in the county.
Sir Edmund’s secretary for three years. Efficient, discreet, never takes a holiday.
Sir Edmund’s comrade from the war, staying the week. Excellent company, terrible luck at cards.
Joins four-player evenings
Everyone has something to hide. Only one of you is hiding a murder.
What you’ll need
A laptop, or a TV plugged into one. Cecil speaks from it, so turn the sound up.
Scan the code with your camera and you’re in. No app, no account.
All in the same room, on the same Wi-Fi. Only two of you? AI guests fill the other chairs.
Print place cards, a house plan, the dinner menu and a sealed Envelope Two for a proper table-top feel.
Early access
Cecil is laying the table. Leave your address and he’ll write the moment early access opens.
I shall write when your invitation is ready. In the meantime, do try not to touch anything.
Cecil
Preview only: nothing was saved. Sign-ups open at launch.
You’re joining the early-access list for Cecil: A Nightcap at Ravensmere. We’ll only email you about early access, we never share your address, and you can ask to be removed at any time by replying to any of our emails.
Questions
No. It runs in a web browser. The shared screen is a laptop, and everyone joins on their own phone by scanning a code. There’s nothing to install and no account to make.
Yes. It’s made for one table: a shared screen everyone can see, phones on the same Wi-Fi, and the pleasure of watching your friends lie to your face.
AI guests fill the empty chairs. You can question them, and they answer in character. Each one only knows its own character’s dossier, just like a human player.
No. Cecil runs the whole evening: he explains, times, narrates and conducts the accusation. Everyone plays.
A Nightcap at Ravensmere has a single solution, so it’s at its best the first time. Roles are dealt at random, so even then you won’t know who you are until your phone tells you.
Cecil narrates, answers your yes-or-no questions truthfully or not at all, plays the guests nobody else is playing, and chooses his mischief. The story, the evidence and the solution are written by hand. The AI can’t invent clues or give the game away.
Soon. Join the waitlist and Cecil will write when your invitation is ready.