Kemps Card Game Review

Year Published: N/A

Players: 4-8

Playing Time: 30 Minutes

I did not know this game was a real thing until decades after I first played it. My history with it is actually somewhat insane.

My high school happened upon Kemps in the late 90s/early 2000s, and this was in the pre-cell phone days (or at least before they were ubiquitous).

Imagine it with me if you will. Paper notes passing from class to class in the hallways. Paper football played during downtime. One of my math classes even had a secret Mancala board that we’d slide along the floor and play during class. It was confiscated a few times when we got careless, though it always seemed to me that playing a game that rewarded math skills was just about the most benign way we could be rebelling.

We also played card games. Card decks simply existed in lockers, backpacks, and sitting around in various side rooms. You could always get a game going if you had 5-10 minutes.

Egyptian Ratscrew (or just Ratscrew) was popular. So was Euchre. And Spoons. And one we called Bullshit, the details of which I can’t fully remember. And probably others I’m forgetting.

And Kemps. But we didn’t call it Kemps. We called it Chaulcer.

Chaulcer was the show-stopper. It’s the only one we’d invite each over specifically to play for an evening. The others were merely to kill time. But Chaulcer was the main event.

I have stories about Chaulcer I’ll still tell to this day that trace back to 1998. It became part of the mythos of our childhood.

For over 20 years after these high school sessions, I thought the game was the fever dream of someone in northeast Ohio and had potentially never traveled beyond the confines of our school district. No one knew the name; not the internet, not students in the next school district over. It was a ghost.

Some card-playing friends on Board Game Geek eventually saw my description of Chaulcer and pointed me toward Kemps, and only then was the mystery solved.

Kemps – A Brief, Confusing Rundown

Kemps is a mess (in a good way). It’s also a hyper-regional game, and anyone you know who has played it probably learned it slightly differently than the next person over. Standardizing colloquial terminology is a mandatory part of The Teach unless you’ve all played it together before.

It’s a 4-, 6- or 8-player partnership card game, playable with a standard deck of cards.

You have a hand of four cards and are trying to make four of a kind. The dealer lays out four cards in a communal offer and, in real-time, you swap cards in order to try to get four of a particular value.

At least that’s probably what you’ll do. You see, once you get four-of-a-kind, the round doesn’t end. Your partner has to call “Kemps” out loud to indicate that you have the four. And so you have to signal to them…but silently, and without the other team picking up on it. Because in most versions of the game, they can call “Counter-Kemps” on you if they think you have four of a kind. Or, in some versions, they’ll call “Cut,” but it means the same thing.

Here we’ll step back, to what is usually the opening salvo of this oblique combat. You and your partner go into the next room and create your secret signals. They don’t have to be the same for both of you, but it’s how you’ll indicate to your partner that you’ve gotten Kemps.

You can also create false signals, or a secondary signal to fall back to if you suspect the other side knows your primary signal. This starts to get at more advanced shenanigans, but gives you a sense of what’s possible in the premise.

The Infinite Recursion of the Bluff

Most players, the first time they’re taught the game, will dutifully collect their four-of-a-kind and try to get Kemps called by their partner. They’ll also watch their partner for their silent signal.

This is a valid way to play. If you’re a sucker, that is.

Seasoned veterans know better. Because they’re watching at least one other player at the table, tracking their card accumulation in an effort to call Counter-Kemps. Higher player counts make this more difficult, but it can be advantageous to pick one other person and focus on their actions.

But if you know this, you can collect three cards of a value that you didn’t start with one of. This is to induce a “Counter-Kemps” declaration from a card counter who you will gleefully inform is incorrect, losing them a point.

A more risky tactic is to “feed” the last card a player needs to them, by first grabbing it yourself and later sloughing it off as though it’s worthless, only to call Counter-Kemps the instant they pick it up. They might suspect you’re doing this though, and then eject their entire hand to avoid the risk.

Risk? Reward? Yes.

Another risk/reward proposition is “Double Kemps” (not all I’ve encountered play with this), wherein both you and your partner have Kemps, and the point reward is higher. But this might mean knowing your partner has Kemps and waiting 30 seconds to try to obtain Kemps yourself. But a lot can happen in those 30 seconds!

I’ve played whole rounds not even trying to obtain four of a kind. I’m just observing both my partner and opponents, and hoping to draw their attention to my card collecting to give my partner a better chance to claim Kemps without being noticed.

Obfuscation is important regardless. To avoid the observant hawks, many of our high school games would become insane dashes for cards in the opening seconds of the game, simply to confuse and overwhelm the senses of opponents. If we deemed this successful, we could realistically build toward four of a kind without huge fears. Unless our signal was intercepted by the other team(s).

Riding the Chaos

Which hopefully starts to sell you on the insanity of it all. The dynamism of this environment can’t be overstated. The intrigue is off the charts. Not a word will be spoken, but the tension is palpable and omnipresent.

At deeper levels of play, partners can create a whole maelstrom of signals. Or an “activator” signal followed by the signal, but the activator is required for it to be valid.

Or determining which opponent players you and your partner are assigned to “watch” for Counter-Kemps so that you aren’t doubling up your efforts.

It’s furiously contentious at these levels. But it’s also among the best gaming experiences I’ve ever had.

Hopefully you can see now why I have decades-old stories about this game I still enjoy telling. Its ability to amuse and infuriate is profound.

I’ll end with one such example: we were playing with a variant wherein signals could be verbal. A friend of mine was hosting and had chosen the music, and knew the lyrics to every Dave Mathews song. His signal was going to be singing the lyrics to whatever was playing.

This was not out of place for him to do anyway, so it would blend right in.

He gets Kemps and we’re all set. Except it’s one of those 5-minute instrumental solos that Dave’s band is known for. So he starts humming the tune with the music. And everyone’s looking at him, and he’s humming…suspiciously.

But I’m not calling Kemps, so my opponents thought it was just the typically strange behavior that passed for a false signal in the game.

The solo continues. And continues. And continues. And he’s making eye contact with me like a serial killer, humming the entire time, and I’m just confused.

Finally Dave starts singing again…just as the opposing team calls Kemps. My friend instantly explodes in a mixture of absolute amusement and infinite frustration. We laughed about it for the rest of the night, and here I am nearly 25 years later retelling it.

Free Rules File

Want a full rules teach? I put together a PDF of the rules that you can download here.

Keep in mind this is my version of Kemps, and other regional variants will exist that will be different. But it’s plenty to get you started.

Now, go find yourself three other people and a deck of cards. Play some Kemps. Then play more of it. And have fun!