Hand-authored whodunits solved by deduction alone. Read the clues, place every name on the scene — only one suspect ends up sharing a room with the victim, and the math doesn't lie.
Energy timers, interstitial ads, pop-ups begging for a five-star review between every level. The puzzle becomes the side dish.
Most pick-the-suspect games hand you a multiple-choice prompt and call it sleuthing. There's no chain, no proof, no real work behind the verdict.
Pure logic is satisfying — but a grid of nine digits has no stakes. There's no scene, no cast, no payoff beyond "completed."
Every case is solver-verified to have exactly one valid layout. No coin-flips, no "I guess this one" — every move follows from a clue.
Each mystery is authored, not generated — a real cast, a staged setting, clues that read like an interrogation transcript. Four cases at launch, new ones added regularly.
Pay once, then it's just you and the casefile. No interstitials between scenes, no "watch a video to continue", no notifications begging you to come back.
Room, adjacency, furniture, "alone", combined conditions — eighteen clue types that compose into chains. Solving feels like cross-examining a witness.
Dark-first by design — clear typography, color-coded suspects, no decoration to interfere with thinking. Reads as well at 2 a.m. as on the morning commute.
Tap a suspect, tap a cell — that's the whole input. Shake the phone to undo, long-press to pencil possibilities. Built for thumbs, not menus.
"Vivian lies dead in the wings. Four cast-mates were in the theatre when the curtain came down. Seat every name — the killer takes a bow without rising."
Cast, setting, constraints — no tutorial, no padding. By line three you're already eliminating suspects.
Tap a suspect, tap a cell. Every clue narrows the board until exactly one seating chart survives.
Eighteen clue types — room, adjacency, "alone", combined conditions. Every line is a tool you can chain into the next.
When the final name lands, the math finds the truth. You don't guess — you prove it.
Drop your email and you'll get one message — the day CrimeDoku hits the App Store. No reminders, no second act, no spam.
One email. One case. Then silence.