Cockroach Poker Review

Year Published: 2004

Players: 2-6

Playing Time: 20 Minutes

The Premise

You get a bunch of cards that are one of eight suits, represented by different types of critters and bugs (rats, spider, stink bugs, etc.). You pass a card face down to a player and say what it is. But you can lie. That person can either believe you or call your bluff. Either way, if they’re right, you get the card face up (this is bad). If they’re wrong, they get it face up in front of them. Whoever loses and has the card has to start the next round (also bad). Lastly, a player can Pass instead of trying to figure out whether or not you’re lying, look at the card, and pass it to someone else at the table and either claim it’s the same creature or a new one, and the lie detection begins anew. If you’re the last person to receive the card in a round, you can’t pass.

As more cards come out, it becomes easier to suss out lies, since certain players will want to offload particular types of cards and you’ll have more in play to begin to eliminate possibilities.

This is a “one loser” game as opposed to one winner. The first person to get four cards of a single suit, or to run out of cards entirely, is the loser.

The Components

It’s just a stack of cards. The art is kinda amusing, as the creatures are all a bit different even within the same suit, giving some distinct personalities. Otherwise, the minimalism of components and box is a selling point for this game.

The cards also (just barely) still fit in the box when sleeved, which is something I think many gamers will want to do after playing a handful of times.

The Joys of Dumb Fun and Meta-Intrigue

There isn’t much to this game. So why is it great? Because it takes the essence of a particular idea (bluffing) and presents it in a streamlined, funny format. It’s the staredown in Poker after a big bet, over and over again, minus the actual Poker, yet it manages to keep the tension of those moments alive.

It also effortlessly creates narrative moments. Someone will get two Cockroach cards back to back and will be reeling from the sudden turn in fortune. Then the next player to hand them a card will look them dead in the eye and say “This is a cockroach.” Watching that player squirm is a delight.

Watching 3-4 players on the brink of losing, trying to stave off getting that final, fatal card is tense and hilarious, even if you’re one of those players. Watching someone have a string of being correctly called out 3-4 times in a row is hilarious (again, even if it’s you). By the 3rd or 4th, they’ll be so shell shocked that there will be an audible sigh of relief if the player they hand a card to decides to pass it to another player. Being the player who has one face-up card in front of you, safe and secure, while everyone else is the table is near losing is incredible. For the “secure” player, they can be smugly amused at everything else going on, while the others would likely love to gang up on them, but likely can’t because they’re focused on getting someone else to the losing finish line, so to speak, before themselves. For clarity, I’ve seen impromptu grudge matches get a secure player in trouble in a hurry, but it’s an interesting strategic dynamic when you internalize that whoever is doing the best isn’t necessarily your enemy but is potentially your greatest ally at the table.

Some tables will even end up with an unspoken telepathy to get a certain type of card to a particular player. The silent agreement to try to stick Bob or Suzy with all of the Flies, for example, is a case study in emergent gameplay and obtuse communication skills.

Games are quick, so it won’t overstay its welcome. Some more or less pure bluffing games suffer from this type of game bloat, but Cockroach Poker manages to feel breezy even at max players.