Everyone already wants to come in costume. Give the costumes a plot. A murder mystery is the Halloween party with a body in the next room, a room full of suspects, and a killer sitting at your table, passing the pumpkin soup.
no gore required. dread does the catering.
On any other night, talking your friends into costume is the hard part. On 31 October they arrive dressed and in character before you open the door.
Our cases run on candlelight and suspicion, not fake blood. The scariest thing in the room is the person who knows more than they are saying.
Most Halloween parties peak at the costume judging. This one builds all night, to an accusation the whole table has to make out loud.
Mixed group of friends, workmates and plus-ones? Perfect. Nothing introduces people faster than accusing each other of murder.
Any case in the catalogue will carry a Halloween table, but these three bring their own atmosphere through the door.
A death on a lit stage in front of four hundred witnesses. Greasepaint, limelight and a past nobody mentions. Theatre folk in costume, for a table in costume.
Open the dossier →A locked house, an open safe, and a money trail that lies. Country-house menace, frost on the windows, and everyone in their Sunday best for the worst of reasons.
Open the dossier →A blackout village where everyone hides something. Stitched curtains, silent church bells, and a bond between killer and victim that is nothing like it looks. Made for candlelight.
Open the dossier →Every role comes with a costume note, so guests can dress to the case rather than guessing. Halloween wardrobes cover 1943 to 1971 surprisingly well; a hat and an attitude do most of the work.
Cases play best with 6 to 12. Fewer than six, try the free two-player case instead. More than twelve, extras make an excellent jury.
Serve things that survive interrogation: one-hand food, a slow dinner between acts, dessert saved for the verdict. Nobody cross-examines well over a roast.
Candles, lamps, the TV glow. Keep the overheads off and the phone torches for the evidence. Dread is a lighting decision.
You are the victim, so plan your big moment: a toast, a scream from the hallway, a dignified collapse. Then enjoy the rare pleasure of watching your friends fight over your memory.
The evidence arrives on your guests' phones in stages, so ask everyone to arrive charged. A charger basket by the door has saved more than one investigation.
Pick a case, send the invitations, and let the costumes do what they were always meant to do.
