Skip to main content

So what is a Murder Mystery Party?

So, it turns out not everyone knows what a murder mystery party even is. This came as a surprise to me because it feels like I've always known about them. But after some thinking, I realized that might just be because when I was a kid I found a catalogue with listings for fifteen different themed murder mystery parties. I was the kind of kid who would read the descriptions and try to imagine the plots from that alone. So, I guess I have an unusually long familiarity with the concept. 

 

Anyway, for the benefit of those who have never attended such an event, let me give a little explanation. If you are already familiar with these parties, feel free to come back next time when I start sharing the story of how I come to be writing one.

 

A murder mystery party is partway between a party, a LARP session, a game of Clue, and community theater. (Don't let that scare you off) There are a few ways to do them, but typically the guests at the party are assigned to the roles of the different characters in the story. At some point a mystery occurs (almost always murder) and the players have to work together to find out who committed the crime. Pretty straightforward, though the plots themselves are often anything but.

 

I've been to several of these games over the years (I didn't just figure this out by looking at advertising) and there are some variations. For example, some games have dedicated actors as the suspects: players interview the actors to solve the mystery without assuming any roles of their own. Another variation can be to have multiple crimes occurring over the course of the game. Some games will do a theft as their main crime, rather than a murder—especially if the game is made for younger audiences. Some games lean less into the social interaction side of gameplay and focus more on solving puzzles with physical clues or even bring in escape room elements. Sometimes the host is able to play, sometimes the host is just facilitating, and I’ve even seen a game where the host plays as the ghost of the murder victim.

 

A lot of fun with these events comes from theme. The mysteries are usually set in a particular time period or other themed setting. Prohibition-era 1920s speakeasies seem to be a particularly popular theme, but you also see themes like the Medieval Era, the 1980s, a Victorian manor house, Ancient Greece, etc. Players will typically come in costume. So, in addition to the mystery solving aspect of the game, a big part is getting to pay dress up and pretend to be a larger-than-life character living in a different place and time. Of course, the costumes and décor run the gamut from minimalism (no one dresses up or decorates), to scrappy (everyone comes up with costumes with what they already have in their closets and the decorations are all homemade) to perfectionism (Historically accurate costumes are made or bought or rented, the party is hosted in a space that already matches the theme).

 

The games tend to last between 2-4 hours, depending on how twisty the plot is and how many players there are. These tend to be fun weekend events. Because so much of the game is based on social interaction, it can also be a great way for friends and family to get to know each other better (even if they’re spending the event pretending to be someone else). And it’s always very satisfying when you manage to correctly solve the mystery; you get to feel a real-life Poirot or Nancy Drew (or whichever fictional sleuth you prefer).

 

The best way to understand a murder mystery party is to play one, but I hope this explanation is helpful. Next time I want to talk about why I started writing one myself—and, what the process is to make a murder mystery party looks like. But that’s a story for another time.


🫶 Jen

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Let's talk stories...

Hi, my name's Jennifer (or Jen for short), and as the blog title gives away--I love to tell stories. And to read stories. Or watch them, or play them. And especially to write them. I've been writing for as long as I can remember; even before I could physically write, I would dictate stories to my parents. (From this came my first fairytale retelling; Snow White and the Forty Good Men. I had wanted it to be the forty thieves, like in the third Aladdin movie, but my Mom didn't think thieves were good characters for a four year old to be writing about and we made a compromise. Thus, my first experience with editorial meddling.) (Love you, Mom)  I didn't have a handy photo of five year old me dictating fairy tale retellings, but here's a shot of eight year old me dressed up as a cowgirl for Halloween. A document I found in a box of old homework assignments. I don't for the life of me remember where "Silent Sariah Weston" came from as a pen name...

When Feedback Feels Like Failure: A Sensitive Writer's Guide to Accepting Criticism

A few weeks ago I ran a beta test on my Murder Mystery Party. It was a good test; I got a lot of useful feedback from it. The players had a great time and correctly solved the mystery. But I think it’s worth acknowledging that sometimes “got a lot of useful feedback” feels like failing. I do value the critiques I get on my writing, I really do! Feedback is vital in trying to improve at any skill, particularly writing. And I am always grateful when people are willing to give me the time and effort to look at something I’ve made and tell me honestly what they think of it, what I’ve done right, and where I can improve. But—I’m also a very sensitive person. In a lot of ways; I have sensitive skin, I have sensitive teeth, I have sensory defensiveness as a symptom of sensory processing disorder, etc. And like many artists and writers, I’m emotionally sensitive. This comes with pros and cons. For example, it helps me to be empathetic and to appreciate beauty. But it also means that I’m sens...

Write It, Badly

A while ago I found myself stuck on a scene in a novel I'm working on. I’m somewhere in that spectrum between planner and pantser, so I had written an outline; but somehow my outlines rarely survive contact with my drafts. It’s like my characters get stage fright; they freeze in place until I can give them the right cues. But this time I couldn’t get them to budge. I have a few strategies for when the wheels get stuck: rethinking the scene from scratch, changing up which characters are in the room, cutting the scene out entirely, etc. But I had recently encountered a piece of writing advice on Tumblr that seemed worth a try. “Let your story be bad for a day. Aggressively bad.” I hoped writing a terrible draft would help me get past that unreasonable desire to write the scene perfectly the first time. Or at least serve as a placeholder so I could move on with the book and come back later. So, I decided to give it a try. And it was horribly, horrendously, nail-bitingly, gloriously ba...