Open the file. Find the truth.
For sixty-five years the Bureau has been called in on the deaths the police could not close. We do not solve them for you. We hand you the file, every statement, record and photograph, and we wait for your report.
The Bureau does not tell stories. It keeps records. Each case is a complete investigation, waiting for a detective to read it properly.
Every case arrives as the police and the Bureau assembled it: statements, a post-mortem, call records, a gate camera's register, a pocket diary, a lawyer's letter. Each exhibit is drawn as the real document, to be read closely.
A calm voice opens the file, sets the scene before each envelope and sums up any exhibit on request. It tells you what happened. It never tells you what it means.
Five sealed envelopes, released one at a time. Each ends with a single question the evidence can answer. Get it right and the next envelope opens.
The Director's memo, the inquest report, the people of interest. The narrator explains how you came to be holding the file.
Open each exhibit. Compare times, statements and records. Keep notes and mark your suspects in a private notebook.
One question closes each round. If you are stuck, three sealed hints go from a nudge to the answer, and the report counts them.
When the last envelope is read, name who did it, how it was done and why. In a party room, everyone votes first.
The narrator walks through the night as it really happened, then the Bureau issues its report on your work.
One case is open on the archive today. The others are being written, and each new file joins the archive when it is ready.
A death everyone is ready to call natural, and one inspector who is not.
Doctors, dispensaries and drugs that leave very little behind.
Trusts, ledgers and the paper trail that someone hoped nobody would follow.
Gate registers, call logs and clocks that are not quite right.
A person gone, a room left as it was, and the people who last saw them.
Files closed years ago and reopened because one detail never sat right.
A death in the study, a doctor at the door, and a clock that nobody checked.
Vikram Singh Rathore, sixty-four, retired tea exporter and chairman of the Rathore Charitable Trust, was found dead in the armchair of his study on a cold Sunday morning. His family doctor called it his heart. The police are not so sure. Five people had reason to be near him that night. One of them made certain he would not live to see Monday.
Work the file alone, at your own pace. Your progress, notes and hints are kept on your device, so you can stop and come back.
Open the archiveOne host opens a room and shares a five-letter code. Everyone joins from their own phone or laptop, in the same room or different cities: table chat, suggested answers, point everyone to an exhibit, and vote on the accusation.
Print the whole case for the table: a host guide, envelope labels, every exhibit, a case board and a sealed solution. Lay out the envelopes, dim the lights and open the first one together.
See the case“Trust the inspector's instincts. Check his times.”
No. Cases play in the browser on a phone, tablet or computer. Party rooms work across separate devices.
A case can take up to an hour. Solo progress is saved on your device, so you can stop and pick it up again later.
Hints are sealed in three levels and show only on the device that asks. They never name the killer.
No. Every character, place and document in the Bureau's files is fictional.
