One night. Fourteen players plucked from the audience. Three of them are Hidden — and only the moderator knows who.
Drop the curtain. Murder by candlelight. Banishment by daylight. You watch every face on the big screen and decide, in your head, who you'd send home. At the end of the night — the reveal.
The lights go down. A curtain drops across the stage. Behind it, the Hidden choose who to murder. The curtain rises on thirteen. Then twelve. Then eleven.
In daylight, accusations fly. Alibis crumble. The cast on stage votes to banishment one of their own — and the audience, watching every face in close-up on the big screen, gets one anonymous vote of their own each round.
You won't know who the Hidden are. Neither will the players. Only the moderator holds the truth, and that truth stays sealed until the final reveal.
It's The Hidden as live theatre. It's Mafia with a director. It's a parlour game with a vision mixer and a 9-metre stage.
Fourteen names are drawn from a velvet bag. Volunteer if you'd like in — opt out and you stay in your seat, no pressure. The chosen take the stage.
The curtain stays up. On the moderator's count of three, every player opens the envelope in front of them in silence. Three Hidden. Eleven Seekers. No one but the moderator knows who is who.
The Hidden meet behind the curtain and choose a Seeker to murder. The audience hears only whispers, footsteps, the strike of a match.
Daylight. The body is revealed. Accusations, alliances, lies. Faces in close-up on the big screen. The audience votes from their phones.
The cast votes one of their own out. The banished player reveals their role to the room and leaves the stage — to the bar, where they may speak freely.
Four cast rounds. Then one final audience round where the room itself picks the liars. At the end — masks off. Was it the quiet one all along?
Nine innocents — plus a Warden who can investigate one player a night, and a Healer who can stop a murder before it happens. Each one a target the moment they reveal themselves.
Three murderers. They know each other. They sit beside the Seekers all night. They confer in whispers when the curtain falls. They look you in the eye when the slates come round. You will be lied to.
You play silently in your head. Every round, one anonymous vote from your phone — a tip-off to the cast, shown on the big screen. You can't speak. You shouldn't tell.
Behind the curtain
"Tonight, by candlelight, we murder one of you."
— The Moderator
€35 a head. We'll write to you 72 hours before tickets go live. No spam, no resale, no nonsense.
No. The fourteen on stage are volunteers, and only volunteers. If you want to stay in your seat and watch — that's most of the room.
Not a word. The moderator runs the rounds. Every line on stage is improvised by the players themselves. The Hidden aren't actors — they're you, with a secret.
No. The moderator opens the night by walking you through the rules. After ten minutes you'll know the game better than half the people watching at home.
Watch faces, read tells, place silent bets in your head, and once per round, cast an anonymous vote from your phone. The tally goes up on the big screen before the cast votes. You're not deciding — but you are pressuring.
Yes — and groups of 4+ get sat together. Just tell us in the waitlist form.
The Smurfit Theatre is fully accessible — lift to auditorium and stage, accessible toilets, dedicated seating. Let us know in your waitlist signup and we'll hold a spot.
Full refund up to 7 days before the show. After that, your seat can be transferred to a friend — drop us a line.