I generally don’t like bluffing games. They’re hard to start, as it usually requires everyone at the table to have such a firm grasp on the rules and potential outcomes, that I don’t think they’re worth overcoming that barrier to entry. Also, I just don’t like lying to people. Trying to keep a poker face, or convince someone else that I’m telling the truth or lying, just does not bring me joy. So let me tell you about Cockroach Poker.

Cockroach Poker is a deck of 64 cards. 8 different insects have 8 cards each. At the start of the game, the whole deck is dealt out to all players. Sometimes players won’t have the same number of cards in their hand, and that’s okay. Someone will argue that having an extra card gives that player a modicum more information, and therefore the games balance is totally thrown off, but I’m not that person.

In Cockroach Poker, the active player has to pick a card from their hand, put it face down on the table, and slide it to someone else. They make a declaration of which critter is on the other side, and the chosen player has to make a choice. They can either engage with the active player, can say that the active player is telling the truth, or lying about what card they presented. Once they’ve made their declaration, they reveal the card, and if the chosen player was correct, that card lives face up in front of the active player. If the chosen player was incorrect about the active players assertion, then the revealed card lives face up in front of the chosen player. The other thing the chosen player can do, is choose not to engage the active player, and instead look at the card. At this point, they become the active player, they then must put that card face down on the table, and slide it to someone else, and make an assertion about what critter is on that card. It can be the same assertion as the previous player, or it can be different.

Cockroach Poker ends when one player has 4 of the same critter face up in front of them. They are the closer of the game, and must buy the next round. At least, that’s what I tell my friends the consequence for losing is, no matter what context we’re playing this game in.

It can feel like players have no control over their fate in cockroach poker. When a card gets slid towards you, and your parter says “bat”. You either say true or false with no further information, and reveal your choice. Of course, there’s always the chance that there are already 5 bats on the table, and you happen to be holding 3 in your hand, in which case you can catch them in their bold faced lie, but that situation happens so rarely it’s almost not worth mentioning.

Players at the table can gang up on a specific player, sliding them every card, trying to dump all manner of critters onto their lap. It can feel unfair, and pointless. But Cockroach Poker excels at providing players genuinely exciting moments. The glee you have when you catch someone in a lie makes the whole table oooooh and ahhh. The tension builds like a pot of water coming to a boil. At first, nothing happens, but when two players have two of the same critter in their lap, and someone slides them a card that would give them a third, is it a gambit? If you look at it and slide it to the other unfortunate soul, someone is going to walk away with another face up card, potentially bringing them one step closer to utter ruin.

Or consider the audacity of someone with 3 face up spiders, and then sliding a card to someone, claiming it’s a spider. Did they just hand you the key to their own defeat? Would they be so bold? They’re usually so reserved and careful, it seems completely out of character for them to do something so daring. But maybe that’s what they want you to think. Clearly, you can’t choose the wine in front of you, and clearly you can’t choose the wine in front of them!

-ahem- Sorry. I slipped into Vizzini Mode for a second there.

Cockroach Poker excels at building tension, and when that tension snaps and someone is left holding the bag, it’s utter joy. Every game of Cockroach Poker I’ve played has ended with someone shouting with glee. It’s a raucous good time, a perfect pub game, and one that is especially good when you have a guilt-tripping aunty over for dinner. Highly recommend.