Idioms are curious little beasts. They pad quietly through our everyday language, shedding fur all over conversations, and we rarely stop to ask where on earth they came from. We spill the beans, let cats out of bags, and insist curiosity killed something that very clearly still rules the internet. Which brings us neatly to Nine Lives: The Idiom Origins Game, a title that is itself a wink and a nudge. After all, if any creature knows a thing or two about improbable survival stories, it is the cat.
Before I sharpen my claws on the review proper, a quick note of transparency. The copy of Nine Lives played for this review was a prototype, sent directly by the creators. That said, if this is the game still warming up on the windowsill, the finished version is going to land squarely on its feet.
What follows is a celebration of clever design, mischievous art, and a game that gleefully reminds us that language is strange, history is stranger, and sometimes the truth really is the least believable option.
Curiosity Did Not Kill the Cat, It Made a Board Game
At its heart, Nine Lives is a game about etymology, bluffing, and the joyful chaos of being confidently wrong in front of your friends. Each player takes on an incarnation, all of them feline, all of them brimming with personality. You are dealt your answer cards, your nine lives, and a growing sense that you know far less about language than you previously thought.
A question card is read aloud, presenting a familiar idiom or word and three possible origin stories labelled A, B, and C. Players secretly choose which explanation they believe to be true and place the corresponding card face down. Feeling bold, or perhaps suspiciously literary, you can also play The Bard if you believe Shakespeare had a paw in it. Alternatively, the question mark card lets you declare that all offered explanations are false and that nobody truly knows the origin.
Once everyone has committed, the card is revealed. Those who guessed incorrectly lose a life. Guess correctly and you live to fight another round, occasionally with the delightful bonus of resurrecting a fallen life if you nailed one of the rarer options. Play continues, lives dwindle, and smug grins are quickly replaced with nervous laughter as the deck cycles on.
The aim is simple. Be the last cat standing.
Herding Cats, With Rules That Actually Behave
Despite the playful chaos of the theme, the rules themselves are refreshingly tidy. Setup is swift and intuitive. Assemble the spinner, select your first deck of question cards, choose your incarnation, and lay out your nine lives. There is something immediately satisfying about those life cards sitting in front of you, a neat little row of confidence waiting to be chipped away.
Gameplay flows smoothly. Each round follows the same rhythm of read, guess, reveal, and suffer the consequences. The consistency makes the game easy to teach, even to players who might usually hiss at the mention of trivia or word games. The additional layers, such as special cards and mini games, arrive gradually and keep things interesting without overcomplicating matters.
The reminder printed directly into the rules that etymology is not an exact science is a thoughtful touch. It sets expectations, encourages discussion, and takes the sting out of moments where a correct answer feels almost offensively obscure. This is not a dry academic exercise. It is a celebration of stories, myths, and the strange paths words take through time.
A Game That Really Has Some Claws
Where Nine Lives truly sharpens its claws is in the way it balances knowledge and instinct. You do not need to be a linguistics professor to enjoy this game. In fact, some of the most entertaining moments come from watching someone talk themselves out of the correct answer because another option sounded just a little bit too good.
Special cards add a welcome layer of tactical mischief. Lose a life and you might flip over a card that grants you a one time power. These range from stealing cards to sitting out a round when you are utterly baffled by the question at hand. They keep eliminated players engaged and offer just enough hope to prevent the game from feeling punishing.
The resurrection mechanic tied to The Bard and question mark cards is particularly clever. These options are rarely correct, which makes choosing them feel like a gamble worthy of a Vegas alley cat. When it pays off, the table erupts. When it does not, you are left explaining yourself, loudly, while everyone else cackles.
The competitive tension builds beautifully over time. As lives thin out, every guess feels heavier. Do you trust your gut, your vague memory of a pub quiz, or the smug expression on the face of the player opposite you? The game thrives on these moments of doubt.
Spin Me Right Round, Like a Dizzy Little Kitten
Scattered throughout the decks are spinny game cards, and they deserve a moment in the spotlight. When one appears, the spinner is used to select a player who must complete a short challenge. These mini games break up the rhythm of question answering and inject a burst of physical or performative silliness into the proceedings.
Lives are often at stake during these moments, which raises the stakes and the volume in equal measure. They are quick, varied, and wonderfully daft. In larger groups, they shine. The suspense of waiting to see who the spinner chooses, the collective groan or cheer, and the shared spectacle all contribute to the social energy of the game.
However, in smaller groups, these moments can occasionally fall flat. With fewer players, it is not uncommon for the same person to be selected repeatedly, or for certain characters to be bypassed entirely. When that happens, the spinny games feel like a tease rather than a highlight. They are still fun, but their potential is not fully realised.
If you regularly play in larger groups, this is a non issue. In fact, it becomes one of the game’s greatest strengths.
All Hail the Queen, Long May She Meow
It would be a crime not to lavish praise on the artwork. The feline illustrations are an absolute joy and contribute enormously to the game’s charm. Each incarnation has a distinct personality, conveyed through expressive poses, clever costume choices, and a healthy dose of humour.
The Elizabeth the First-inspired Queen is a standout. Regal, imperious, and gloriously over the top, she looks like she would absolutely execute you for misusing an idiom. The Einstein kitty, complete with wild hair and knowing eyes, drew consistent laughs during playthroughs, particularly when his owner got an answer spectacularly wrong.
These characters do more than just decorate the table. They invite players to lean into the theme, to perform a little, and to feel attached to their chosen cat. Losing lives feels personal when it is your pirate or sphinx taking the hit.
The overall aesthetic is cohesive and playful, reinforcing the idea that learning, or at least guessing, can be fun. The cats never feel like an afterthought. They are the soul of the game.
More Cats, More Chaos, More Fun
Nine Lives scales well, but it truly comes into its own with larger groups. Playing with more people amplifies the social deduction aspect. Table talk increases, alliances form and dissolve, and the pressure of making the right call intensifies when more lives are on the line.
The spinny games benefit enormously from higher player counts, as mentioned earlier. They become shared events rather than isolated interruptions. The laughter is louder, the stakes feel higher, and the game leans fully into its party game potential.
In smaller groups, the game is still enjoyable, particularly for those who love wordplay and trivia. The core mechanics remain solid, and the questions themselves are consistently engaging. It is simply that some of the sparkle is reserved for busier tables.
If you are the sort of person who regularly hosts game nights with five or more players, this one deserves a prime spot on your shelf.
A Test of Wits, Nerves, and Poker Faces
What surprised me most across multiple playthroughs was how challenging the game can be. It pushes you to question your assumptions and rewards both knowledge and nerve. You will second guess yourself constantly, often to your detriment.
The friendly competition it fosters is one of its greatest strengths. Losing a life stings, but it rarely feels unfair. When someone is knocked out, it is usually followed by a round of storytelling about the answer that did them in. These moments become part of the game’s ongoing narrative.
The special cards ensure that even when you are on your last life, you are not out of options. There is always a chance for a dramatic comeback, a well timed steal, or a tactical retreat. It keeps everyone invested right up until the final reveal.
Nine Lives, One Winner, Endless Stories
By the time the last cat is standing, the table is usually littered with discarded lives, inside jokes, and half remembered facts that will be confidently misquoted for weeks to come. That, to me, is the mark of a successful game.
Nine Lives: The Idiom Origins Game is clever without being smug, educational without being dry, and competitive without being cruel. It invites laughter, debate, and the occasional existential crisis about how little we truly know about the words we use every day.
Whether you are a trivia titan, a casual word lover, or someone who just wants to watch their friends argue passionately about Shakespeare, this game has something to offer. Like the idioms it celebrates, it is strange, memorable, and surprisingly enduring.
If this prototype is anything to go by, Nine Lives is ready to pounce.
About the Author
I am Kirsty Whyte, a blogger for Zatu Games, a lifelong lover of literature, a self confessed history buff, and an enthusiastic gamer who is always on the lookout for something a little different to bring to the table. I have a particular soft spot for games that feature cats in any capacity, a preference that is closely monitored and rigorously judged by my own tuxedo kitty, Ebony, who insists on supervising every playthrough from the nearest box or rulebook.
