Truth or dare
Real prompts, and none of them come round twice.
- Truth: worst haircut you ever had
- Truth: last thing you searched for
- Truth: a rule you break often
- Truth: your most useless talent
- Truth: something you pretend to like
- Truth: the last lie you told
- Dare: speak in an accent for 3 turns
- Dare: text the 5th person in your chats
- Dare: let someone redo your hair
- Dare: do 10 push-ups right now
- Dare: swap shoes with someone
- Dare: sing the last song you played
Which prompts
Saved in this browser only. Clearing site data clears the list — nothing is uploaded.
The prompts are the page
A truth-or-dare wheel with six placeholder slices is not a game, it is a form to fill in. This one opens with sixteen real prompts — eight truths, eight dares — so the first spin is playable.
Switch to truths only, dares only, or both. The bank changes the whole wheel in one action rather than asking you to delete what you do not want.
Nothing repeats
Once a prompt has been drawn it comes off the wheel, so an evening does not circle back to the same question four times.
It works by removing the prompt, not by re-rolling until something new appears. That distinction matters even in a party game: a wheel that silently re-rolled would be showing one set of odds and running another, and the moment anyone notices the wheel doing something other than what it looks like, it stops being a fair arbiter and becomes a prop.
When you have been through the bank, one action puts everything back.
The prompts are deliberately mild
They are written to be playable with people you do not know well — colleagues, a mixed group, family. Nothing here asks anyone to reveal something they would regret, and nothing asks anyone to do something they could be hurt doing.
That is a design choice, not squeamishness. A prompt bank has to work for the most cautious person in the room, because they are the one who will quietly stop playing. Sharper prompts are a thing groups write for themselves, and you can: clear the wheel and paste your own, one per line, and the no-repeat behaviour works exactly the same on them.
Where the line is
Two rules worth agreeing before you start, neither of which a wheel can enforce.
Anyone can pass, and passing costs nothing. A game where refusing is a penalty is a game that pressures people into things, and the wheel's authority — the thing that makes it fun that a machine chose — becomes the mechanism.
Nothing goes outside the room. The prompts here stay away from anything that would matter later, but a group writing its own can wander, and "it was the wheel" is not a defence anyone accepts afterwards.