DeevGrape

You look around the table at four friends -- people who share your hatred for the evil empire, or so you thought. At this table, where the resistance meet to plan their missions, fully two of five the operatives are spies, infiltrating the rebels to sabotage their missions. You've seen your loyalty card, so you know you're resistance... but how do you figure out which of your so-called allies are the spies? The Resistance, like Werewolf, Mafia, Battlestar Galactica, and other social deduction games, tasks the majority of players with rooting out the spies in their midst -- while the spies win by staying hidden. Among my friends, accusations of spyhood tend to be absolute: "Did you see how long he hesitated? He must be a spy!" Whether the suspicion is based on social cues or in-game actions, players rapidly become very sure of those beliefs they discuss at the table. They seem to divide their observations into two neat boxes, based on whether the data can decisively show someone's identity. If evidence seems convincing, it becomes concrete proof, immune to discussion; and if it doesn't, then it's disregarded. This treatment of evidence can lead to overconfidence: once when I was well-framed by the spies, my fellow resistance member refused to even imagine how I could be innocent. And why should he listen to me? He had evidence that I was a spy. On the other hand, it can just as easily lead to under-confidence: when new players see that there is no conclusive proof one way or the other, they often disregard the hints and suggestive evidence (in someone's tone of voice, or their eagerness to go on a mission), and throw their hands up at the supposed randomness of the game. Using Bayesianism as an alternative to this dichotomy allows me to treat evidence with the appropriate scrutiny, rather than using narrative ideas to guide my play. A two-person mission succeeds; the next mission adds a player to that team, and it fails. According to story logic, the first two p