Improving USA Network’s “The Anonymous”

One of my favorite shows of 2024 was USA Network’s new reality competition series The Anonymous. In The Anonymous, 12 contestants compete in challenges to add money to a group pot and earn immunity for themselves – alright, so far standard reality competition fare. But its originality emerges at the end of each round, where players enter “Anonymous Mode”: a digital chat room where they communicate with each other anonymously. Instead of communicating by their real names, they choose various “handles” (one player chose their name and avatar to be “Dice”, another one chose “Snake”, etc.)

It’s in Anonymous Mode that the show shines. On other shows like Survivor and Big Brother we tend to only hear the contestants’ true, unfiltered thoughts about each other in private confessionals, away from the earshot of those they’re ranting about. Conversely, in “Anonymous Mode”, players have the anonymity – and thus, the freedom – to express their true thoughts and feelings about each other in an open forum. It creates wonderfully dramatic moments where contestants who think they’re well-liked are directly told the shocking, contrary truth. It’s an undeniably interesting social experiment – even you’re a well-adjusted human that doesn’t take pleasure in watching people’s worlds crumble. Not many other reality competition shows can say the same since Survivor made its debut 25 years ago.

The Anonymous is a show with a fascinating core conceit, but its execution had room for improvement.

One thing that worked well enough was the round-to-round elimination structure. After players air out their dirty laundry in Anonymous Mode, they make nominations. If a player receives even one nomination, they are eligible to be eliminated that round. The twist is that the nominations are revealed one-by-one as a handle nominating a player – for example, if I’m communicating under the handle “Truck” and nominated a player named Cassandra, it would be revealed to the cast as “Truck nominated Cassandra.” This proves to be important because after some time to reconvene and decompress in-person, the players return to their private pods and take a quiz on which player is behind each of the handles in the Anonymous Mode chat. Whoever is matched to their actual handle by the fewest players becomes THE Anonymous and gets the sole vote to eliminate the nominee of their choice.

This is just such a rich, interesting, and original way of structuring eliminations. I have no notes.

I have several notes, however, about how the endgame was structured.

If you’re unfamiliar with the show, take a moment and think to yourself “how should a game like this determine a winner?”

It’s a surprisingly challenging question, and unfortunately the show failed to provide a satisfying answer. At first, nothing was said to the viewers or players about how the endgame would work. About halfway through the season, one of the challenges was a rudimentary psychology game where immunity was placed in a box and players could either take a box from the central table or steal the box of another player. It was unexciting to say the least. So it was disappointing, if not outright shocking, when the show eventually revealed that this challenge would decide the winner of the season once only four players remained. It put a damper on an otherwise compelling new reality competition format.

I knew it was only a matter of time before I got to work hosting my own version of the game, hopefully fixing its flaws in the process. I threw together a sexy sizzle trailer, posted an ad for the game, and got to work.

Competitions – A Format Where Collusion is Permissible

Besides the endgame, the other aspect of the show I thought could be improved was how challenges were integrated into the show. Cooperative challenges designed to add money to a group pot are far too common in reality competition shows nowadays and most of the ones in The Anonymous could be skipped through without missing any character or plot developments. Hence, of the first and one of the easiest decisions I made was that there would be a $500 fixed prize for the winner.

What to do with the once-per-round challenges, then? Hosting basic challenges for immunity also seemed stale, until I realized that this format presented a unique opportunity. Board game-style challenges don’t work as immunity challenges in shows like Survivor and Big Brother because of the possibility that players could collude – i.e., one or more players sabotages their own chance(s) to win the challenge in order to ensure one of their allies wins. To be clear, the reason why this is important to avoid is that those shows already reward players for forming majority alliances, so allowing collusion in challenges would unnecessarily double-reward this. Challenges would become redundant with elimination ceremonies. I think it’s clear that this underlying philosophy is why so many individual immunity challenges on Survivor are done in private stations, lanes, etc. – they’re the only opportunity for players outside the majority alliance to win their safety.

Interestingly, The Anonymous is one of the few reality competition formats where this is not true. Players in The Anonymous have three other opportunities to earn their safety: the nomination ceremony, where they are guaranteed to be safe if they angle their way out of receiving nominations; the handle quiz, where they are guaranteed to be safe if they do the best job creating confusion about their true identity; and lastly, if they avoid being selected for elimination by THE Anonymous.

It’s the second one that’s the most important here. The handle quiz is the show’s main opportunity to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and secure your safety. Concerns about collusion in immunity challenges aren’t as relevant here, since minority players still have a clean opportunity to earn guaranteed safety outside of the challenges.

This opens the door for more game-theoretical, social challenges – similar to the main matches on The Genius and The Devil’s Plan, collusion concerns be damned. If anything, it’s desirable for majority alliances to emerge in these challenges, since they could otherwise operate in secrecy under the anonymous nominations and elimination decisions in this format.

This is the once-per-round challenge structure that I went with. In Round Two, I hosted the Election Game from The Genius‘s first season; in Round Three, the competition was Dead Last, a board game that literally markets itself as a “social collusion” game; in Round Four, the contestants played Zoo Vadis, a political negotiation game with very explicit collusion between players.

Each of these competitions ended up being successful. They created tension and storylines between players that lingered throughout the season. They brought to light which players trusted each other enough to work together, as well as tipping off when players deemed certain relationships disposable. Perhaps most importantly, however, they gave players a window to observe who their fellow contestants truly are. The pressure of the challenges often revealed cracks in the masks that players donned during game nights.

This theme influenced how I eventually structured the endgame.

Endgame – The Masquerade Ball

As mentioned earlier, the question of how to resolve a season of The Anonymous is a challenging one. Many different proposals fail for one reason or another.

  • A Survivor-esque jury vote wouldn’t work because the point of the game is that if you’re eliminated you didn’t quite know what was going on in the game, not to mention that it’s too generic for such an otherwise-original format.
  • A final challenge doesn’t work because it feels incongruent with the show’s overall premise.
  • Giving the players new handles just for the finale round and doing a three-question quiz on those handles would basically be a crapshoot.

The second point is the most interesting. The box challenge that the actual show used as the final challenge seemed out of place with the overall conceit of the show. But this begs the question: what is the show ultimately about?

I think that, fundamentally, The Anonymous is about trying to figure out who people truly are. Players have to cross-reference the words (and nominations) of each other’s Anonymous Mode identities with what they know about the real people they’re interacting with back in the main house. Conversely, it’s also a game about putting on a mask, or even multiple masks, in order to manipulate other people’s perceptions of you.

This sheds some light on what the controversial finale of the original show got right. As anticlimactic as the final box challenge may have been, it succeeded in being thematic since the players did have to read each others’ behaviour – in this case, to determine if another player saw the grand prize when they opened their initial box.

The main issue was that it was too simple. It just wasn’t much of a game at all and made for boring TV. Physical tells definitely exist, but a test of social perception should give players a little bit more to work with.

This newfound clarity helped me craft the ideal endgame structure, which I titled The Masquerade Ball:

  • Once four players remain, they must choose a final handle from a menu of handles (pictured below).
  • The players would then participate in a series of three games (Incan Gold, Skull, and Stella on Board Game Arena), but they must do so anonymously, under the handle that they chose.
  • Victory Points would be awarded based on how well they did in the games.
  • The majority of Victory Points, however, were awarded based on a final quiz they took after the games, in which they had to match each finalist to their finale handle, as well as the handles they used throughout the game (more points were awarded for guessing finale handles than for the ones used earlier in the game.)

This hybrid format balances all of the objectives I was seeking to accomplish. I wanted the endgame format to reward the players who could keep themselves anonymous most effectively and the three Masquerade Ball games provided a better venue to test this skill than the box challenge. Nonetheless, there was still a clear incentive not to act too wildly or randomly since there were Victory Points at stake.

The menu of handles that the finalists had to pick between. They chose Axolotl (top left), Cherries (top row, 4th), Lighthouse (second row, 5th), and Sun (bottom row, 2nd).

It was important that the games were capable of expressing a wide variety of player behaviour and I thought Incan Gold, Skull, and Stella naturally indicated the players’ risk-taking affinity, psychological cunning, and intuition, respectively.

The only thing I would have changed in retrospect was that I would’ve included more games and removed the questions on the final quiz about handles used prior to the finale. If players generally figured out which anonymous handle you were in a certain phase of the game, it damaged your chances of winning in a way that might’ve been insurmountable.

Instead, I would’ve run six games, with players having to choose new handles before the 3rd and 5th games. The final quiz would then only pertain to the three sets of endgame handles.

Minor Experiments

To add a strategic component for players to engage with if they wanted, I also introduced a minor twist in which players received currency based on how well they did in the challenges. They could then use this currency to bid on keys for three vaults each round.

  • One vault had nothing inside it (whoever was unfortunate enough to bid on the key for this vault learned which vault would be empty next round.)
  • One vault had “The Cloak”, which negated the first nomination made against you that round. The Cloak could be transferred to another player, who would then be stuck with it (in case someone wanted to frame another player as being too keen on bidding for advantages, although this only happened once, to little effect.)
  • One vault had “The Dagger”, which broke any ties in your favour for becoming THE Anonymous (the show never discussed the tiebreaking procedure so I said the first tiebreaker would be your score on the quiz and the second tiebreaker would be the time it took you to submit your quiz.)
  • The vaults were refreshed each round and their contents were randomized.

Since this was advertised as a somewhat-casual weekly game with communication prohibited between game nights, I wanted a low-impact twist that you could choose not to engage with for little consequence. However, for engaged players who were willing to devote effort and attention for a marginal advantage in the game, it gave them something extra to sink their teeth into.

Lastly, I also gave each player that became THE Anonymous some extra perks. On the show, the producers chose the order in which players were revealed to be safe during each round’s dramatic elimination ceremony. I thought it made sense that whoever becomes THE Anonymous in a round should be the one that chooses the order in which players are revealed safe. I also told them which of the vaults would be empty next round.

Final Thoughts

This was such a fun game to host. I had the privilege of a killer cast that were all fun to watch in the challenges as well as in Anonymous Mode. The format really lends itself to intrigue; it was entertaining and fascinating to watch everyone speculate on which players were behind certain handles in Anonymous Mode.

I was largely happy with the adjustments I made but the success of my fake season is really a testament to the strength and originality of The Anonymous as a concept. I hope we see a second season of the show that tries some new ideas. Especially if some of those ideas are mine!

Hosting “The Devil’s Plan”

It’s kind of awkward when one of the most interesting projects you’ve ever worked on is also borderline-impossible to explain to someone outside of a niche community. Regardless, in this post I’ll try to do the impossible because I was really proud of how this project turned out and the experience of hosting it taught me several lessons about game design.

In late-2023, the first season of Netflix’s The Devil’s Plan (henceforth, TDP) aired and it immediately became one of my all-time favorite shows and reality competition formats. TDP is a South Korean reality show in which contestants attempt to gain (or at least not lose) “Pieces”, the in-game currency, by competing in a series of strategic games. If a player loses all of their Pieces, they are eliminated from the show. As you might expect, the last remaining player is declared the winner.

I had the itch to host another ambitious, multi-month game and I knew enough people who also enjoyed the show that I decided to host my own version of TDP. Similar to how I organized my version of The Mole, I built the cast around a handful of recruits that I knew would provide entertainment value, then posted open applications. The response was overwhelming for a game based on a niche Korean reality show – so much so that I decided to build two casts and host two seasons simultaneously.

To be clear, this was insane of me. I felt an immediate sense of dread as if I had seen a vision of all the work that hosting two seasons simultaneously was going to involve, so I aggressively recruited people to help me out in production. The production team ended up consisting of nine (!!!) people when it was all said and done.

Visuals, Aesthetics, and Vibes

I didn’t focus on the visual presentation much when designing The Mole, but it would need to be more of a priority here since so much of what made TDP work was its ambiance – the stern-looking game environments which underscored the seriousness and high stakes of the games, as well as evocative, cryptic iconography that hinted at secrets beneath the surface (in the Netflix show, there were escape room-like puzzles for players to discover and solve between games that offered opportunities to earn bonus Pieces).

First, we made cool player and production avatars. And by “we”, I mean Lee, one of the production members (as well as the Mole in my aforementioned Mole game the previous year).

(Above: me in real life and my production avatar for the game)

(Below: the official graphic for all the players in both casts – red/orange was called The Devil’s Plan: Alpha Game and blue was The Devil’s Plan: Omega Game. The closest we had to a celebrity was the player in the lower-right, Danny Butler, who participated on CBS’s The Amazing Race in 2024.)

I wanted to contribute to the aesthetic as well, so I made an introductory montage for the season that served as part-opening credits, part-sizzle trailer. My aim was to set an intense, competitive mood from the start so I used the Pendulum song “Nothing for Free” and spliced in clips from its music video. Even today, years later, it makes me want to run through a brick wall.

I had put myself into a situation where I had twenty-four players counting on me to make the best game possible, a nine-person production team I was responsible for leading, and a multi-month-long game ahead of me to design and host. At this point I realized it would be a waste if I didn’t completely empty the tank to make this the most legendary, memorable game I could possibly design.

General Game Design

I realize it may come as a disappointment given the elaborate preamble above that at least half of the game design was fairly easy. Most of the players had already seen the Netflix show, so I knew there was be an expectation that the most interesting and popular games from the show would appear in my version of it. Fortunately, there were multiple Reddit posts in which people posted graphics from the games, allowing me to seamlessly host them online using Discord and Google Slides.

The only notable change I made to these games was altering their payout structures. On the Netflix show, after a game’s rules are explained it is then revealed how many Pieces will be won or lost depending on placement – for example: 1st Place = 3 Pieces, 2nd/3rd = 1 Piece, Second-Last = lose 1 Piece, Last Place = lose 3 Pieces. The Netflix season had an issue where there weren’t quite enough eliminations before the last few episodes, so I altered the payout structures to ensure that there would usually be one or two players that would run out of Pieces, and thus be eliminated, regardless of a game’s outcome.

Although it’s generally not a good practice when hosting a game like this to change rules as the season is progressing, I decided that in this context it was necessary to set the payout structures the night before hosting a particular game, based on the players’ current Piece counts. This was obviously not to rig the game in favor of or against certain players, but simply to make sure that there would be an appropriate amount of eliminations each round.

Unique Games

Extended Breakdown of “Deal With It”

For Round 2, I decided the Main Match (the main game of the round that determines who gains and loses Pieces) would be a modified version of a game that one of my production team members designed for a similar project a few years prior. For context, I’ve posted the rules below in the same form that I presented them to the players – although I also gave them a verbal explanation of the rules with a Q&A period on the night of the game.

OBJECTIVE:

  • Have the most money at the end of 8 rounds.

SETUP:

  • Each round will start with the players divided into 3 rooms of 4 people.
  • At the start of each round, it will be announced how much money that round is worth.
  • One person in each room will be the Boss, and will make an offer that splits the money for that round between themselves and two other people in that room (the “regular players”).
  • The person left out will get a Promotion: they will not receive any money that round, but the following round they will move to the next room and become the Boss of that room.

WHAT HAPPENS EACH ROUND:

  • Each round, you will have 5 minutes to discuss and negotiate with (only) the players in your room.
  • Once the time is up, the Boss will submit a proposal to their Prod Chat outlining who will receive the promotion, how much money they will set aside for themselves, and how much money each regular player will receive.
  • They will also have to choose which regular player will have their share revealed.
  • The room moderator (production) will then reveal who is getting the Promotion, the player whose amount was revealed, and how much money they were allocated in the deal (the Boss’s share and the other regular player’s share will be hidden.)
  • Then the two regular players will vote.

VOTES:

  • The two regular players will be prompted to extend their thumbs up (if they approve the deal) or down (if they reject the deal) at the same time.
  • If both players give a thumbs up, the deal is approved and the money offered by the Boss will be deposited into their accounts.
  • If even one of the two players gives a thumbs down, the Boss will get 1/4 of the money for that round and each of the regular players will get 1/8 of the money. The remaining 1/2 of the money for that round will disappear.

TWISTS:

  • After round 4 but before Round 5 (halfway through the overall game), you’ll get a 20-minute intermission to move around the call channels freely and discuss the game.
  • The total amount each player has earned so far will be revealed right before this intermission.
  • The players that receive Promotions in the final round will receive the same amount that the Bosses of their respective rooms end up receiving that round.

Modifying “Deal With It”

The above is the final version of the game, but in the original version, the Boss of a room received half of the available money if a deal was rejected. I thought this was too generous for Bosses and it seemed like a dominant strategy for them to propose selfish deals, since their worst-case scenario was still appealing.

It was more optimal that failed deals would result in the Boss getting 1/4 of the available money and the two non-promotees getting 1/8 each. Faced with the prospect of a meager return in a key round, Bosses would be more incentivized to offer (or at least, pretend to offer) more egalitarian deals. There remained pressure for all parties to facilitate accepted deals, as failed deals would still result in half the money getting destroyed, a setback in the overall standings for all involved relative to those that were able to reach an agreement for the full pot.

Perhaps most importantly, I removed the rule in the original version that allowed Bosses to reveal the amount they allocated to themselves in their proposed deals. The most interesting mechanic in the entire game is that you don’t know whether the Boss of your room proposed a deal that’s lopsided in their own favor. If Bosses had the freedom to reveal their own amount before the deal was voted on, I felt like it would lead to a dominant strategy where non-Bosses should always demand that their Bosses reveal their own amount.

From a game design standpoint, this was one of the big success stories of the project, as these rule changes led to a game night I found to be wildly entertaining.

“Night of the Ninja”

Night of the Ninja is a short (at least, when played in-person) social deduction game widely available at board game stores. Here’s the shortest video I could find that explains how the base game works:

My one modification to this game was that at a specific moment in each round (right before Blind Assassins are played), players would get a five-minute intermission to mingle around the various call channels in the Discord server to discuss strategies.

This rule change, in itself, worked great. It led to the scrambling and backroom dealing that makes the format of TDP more interesting than your average tabletop game.

But there was one major issue: the game took forever. Night of the Ninja has several phases of cards being dealt to players and then players passing some cards to neighbouring players. Without a physical space to deal cards privately to players, and with drag-and-drop of image files being insufficient, I resolved to use random.org to “shuffle” the deck, then let each player know what their “hand” was in their own private chats with me. This was, as you could imagine, outrageously inefficient. The result was that a night I promised would only take around 1 hour and 45 minutes ending up taking longer than 3 hours. Years later, many production members claim to have lingering PTSD from the constant admin we all had to do that night in order to make the game work.

I’m being somewhat dramatic, because although it was a stressful evening for myself and the production team, I received a surprising amount of positive feedback from the players. One of them even bought the physical game the next day!

It was so clear to me that Night of the Ninja was going to be a perfect game for this format, and although I wasn’t necessarily wrong, this made me blind to the practical constraints I was facing. Everything about this Devil’s Plan project had been going so well despite the challenges of hosting two seasons at once that I felt infallible, but on this night, my eyes were bigger than my stomach.

Miscellaneous Decisions and Lessons from Hosting The Devil’s Plan

This post has already been longer than I intended so I’m going to wrap this up with some miscellaneous thoughts and lessons-learned from the whole experience:

  • I wanted to create a game that didn’t conflict with people’s regular lives, so Main Matches were held on specific times each week. However, I wanted to give players room to strategize and stay engaged throughout the week, so I allowed communication between players on off-days (whereas I didn’t allow this during my Mole game).
  • Prize Matches – games in which the group worked together to add money to the Finale winner’s prize – were the least interesting part of the show but I didn’t have a better alternative so I ran them mostly as activities players could do on their own time between game nights. My main addition here was that I had more Pieces on the line in these games than the Netflix show did, and designed them as dilemmas between helping the group win the Prize Match and helping yourself win Pieces.
  • The Netflix show had a “semi-final” game that ensured that only two players would survive and advance to the Finale. I decided that it would be more dramatic to have a “quarter-final” game that ensured only three players survived, followed by a semi-final in which the last place finisher fell short of the Finale.
  • The Netflix semi-final game was a poker variant, but it was an original game overall that used complex equations. Even though I didn’t like the specific game, some form of poker felt appropriate in the endgame so I chose Omaha Hi-Lo, played on Poker Now, with each player’s Piece count being converted into chips for the game. I chose Omaha Hi-Lo because there’s fewer educational resources about it on the internet compared to Texas Hold ‘Em, so players that had busy lives wouldn’t be disadvantaged compared to those who had more free time to prepare.
  • The Finale was a best-of-three in which the games were Fugitive, Matching Memory Maze (a game I invented and playtested), and Betting Black and White (from a similar Korean show titled The Genius).
  • On the Netflix show, one of the Finale games – Nine Men’s Morris – was telegraphed to the players by including copies of the games in their living quarters. I did the same for Fugitive; I felt that it wouldn’t disadvantage players with less free time to devote to the game outside of game nights because the game is more about reading your opponent than discovering dominant strategies.

Final Thoughts

In all the years that I’ve been hosting these kinds of games, this one was definitely the most enjoyable and well-received. So many people put so much work into producing it that a tone was set for the players that the game was serious and important. These adjectives aren’t usually associated with fun game nights, but the culture that we cultivated around the game truly led to some peak experiences for players when they pulled out dramatic victories, or narrowly avoided death, in a meta-game they were desperate to win.

Hosting “The Mole”

In late-2022, I hosted my own version of The Mole over a series of months with some friends and cold applicants, giving away $1000 in prize money. I learned a lot about game design from this experience and in this post I’ll share most of these insights. But first, I will answer the likely most pressing question about this project: why on Earth did I do it?!?

I became enamoured with reality competition shows as they were rising to popularity in the year 2000, but The Mole was the first one that truly captured my imagination. Its basic premise is that a group works together to complete missions in order to add money to a group pot, all while a saboteur secretly undermines the group’s efforts.

Describing the show in every detail is beyond the scope of this post, nor would it even do justice to why the show was so good. With any creative project, as long as you get the tone right, nothing else matters – and The Mole nailed its tone. The Mole had the intrigue of a murder mystery, the flair of a confident action movie, and the exciting novelty that all early-2000s reality competition shows had because they were so unprecedented at the time.

(Also, I’m pretty sure its final mission anticipated the escape room craze by 15 years? You can be the judge: https://youtu.be/t_BryHVNUp0?list=PL1E796BA90C005287&t=1076)

The show inspired me so much that I hosted a mock version of it during recess in Grade 4. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you much about it, except that (a) it fizzled out within a week after I ran out of ideas and (b) hosting a game show really struck a chord with me as something I wanted to do more of, in some form, someday.

My interest in reality competition shows fluctuated over the years, but I always had it in the back of my mind that one of the first things I would do if I ever became eccentrically rich would be to host as grand-scale of a Mole game as I could.

It took 22 years, but in November of 2022, my savings account had ballooned to an exorbitant five-figure balance, and I decided that my first act as a member of society’s elite was to finally live out my childhood dream.

The Setup

Late 2022 was the perfect time to run this because Netflix had just aired a Mole reboot, exposing a new generation of people to my favorite childhood show.

I built the cast around a handful of my funnier, more-dramatic friends that were watching the Netflix show. Once they agreed, I put out open applications in various Discord servers I was in, alongside this enigmatic sizzle trailer I threw together in a few hours using iMovie:

From the handful of recruits that showed interest but couldn’t commit to playing a full season, I got them to join my “production” team that would help run the challenges and keep track of the goings-on throughout the game.

Designing The Mole

The Mole’s Motivations

Unlike the televised show, in which the Mole receives a fixed stipend from the producers, most fan adaptations of The Mole use a “Mole pot”, in which the saboteur is guaranteed to receive any money that they prevent the rest of the cast from winning.

This isn’t a good system. If you’re producing a Mole game, you don’t want the Mole to blatantly sabotage every challenge because the cast will quickly catch on to the saboteur’s identity and any intrigue will be drained from the season. The Mole him- or herself, however, doesn’t inherently share this goal – and if they have their own pot to build, they’re actively incentivized to work against this goal. The Mole should be a vehicle of production’s wishes, and any misalignment of incentives should be smoothed out.

Challenges

Selecting challenges and scheduling which rounds they’ll show up are production’s main way of manipulating the drama and storylines that will emerge between the cast members.

  • If you want to foster a temporary sense of camaraderie, schedule an easier competition that’s difficult for any individual to sabotage.
  • If you want the players to get to know each other better (i.e., within the first few rounds of the game), schedule a challenge that requires people to learn things about each other and/or make social reads about each other.
  • If you want to stoke paranoia between players, schedule a game in which non-Mole players also have an incentive to lie and sabotage (i.e., in order to receive an Exemption – The Mole’s version of immunity.)

I wanted to set a tone from the start of paranoia and interpersonal drama so I made the first challenge one in which players met me in a private room and occasionally had an incentive to lie when they reported back to the group. In the private room with me, they would randomly pick a sub-objective that, if accomplished, would help the group add money to the pot. I balanced the paranoid, angry tone I was setting with sporadic funny objectives (sadly, the YouTube livestream footage is lost forever, but I had amazing footage of one of the contestants who had to go back to the group and sing “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood from start to finish – shouting over the rest of the group’s attempts to strategize.)

Then, for the second challenge of the night, I set up a simple game in which people created a “Two Truths and a Lie” about themselves, in which money would be added to the group pot each time the lie was guessed successfully. This gave players a chance to scrutinize each other more closely, thus fast-tracking social reads, relationships, and suspicions.

Final Thoughts

I had planned on writing a longer post when I started today, but I forgot how much footage of the season was lost. So I’ll wrap this up with some final thoughts to aspiring Mole hosts.

More than any other reality competition format, The Mole is a show that benefits from the tone that production sets with each decision it makes. The original host of the broadcasted show, Anderson Cooper, was fondly remembered for his moments of levity with the cast – but the reason these moments were so iconic was because he was serious the rest of the time. The host’s demeanour, the structure of the challenges, and every other accoutrement of the show’s presentation should all communicate the same message: this game is important, the stakes are high, and there is a grand mystery to be solved. These kinds of touches are what maintain the “magic circle” that allows players to become fully immersed in the game “world” you create for them (in this case, a few hours, twice per week, for a few months.)

Coming Soon

  • Hosting The Devil’s Plan
  • Hosting The Anonymous
  • Hosting Two Rooms and a Boom
  • Hosting (“Storytelling”) Blood on the Clocktower
  • How to Design Survivor Twists That Don’t Suck
  • and more!