[Opening screen: PITCH MEETING logo]

[Publisher sits at a desk. Game Designer bursts in excitedly, holding an enormous notebook labeled “Britishness.”]

Publisher:
So, you have a cozy little murder mystery game for me?

Game Designer:
Yes sir, I do! It's called Blue Toad Murder Files! Imagine if Agatha Christie had a fever dream after eating too much cheese, and then designed a video game about it.

Publisher:
Oh, I love cheese-induced game design!

Game Designer:
Super tight! So you play as detectives from the Blue Toad Agency — solving murders, crimes, suspicious bake sales, that kind of thing.

Publisher:
Sounds charming! Very serious and methodical detective work?

Game Designer:
Not even slightly! It’s pure British eccentricity. You’ll be solving random puzzles that often have nothing to do with the murder.

Publisher:
Oh, perfect! Nothing says “gripping detective work” like doing a crossword about birdwatching.

Game Designer:
Exactly! One minute you're interrogating a suspect, next minute you’re untangling colored ropes or figuring out whose fish is which.

Publisher:
Wait, fish?

Game Designer:
Fish. Extremely serious fish.

Publisher:
So is there a nice difficulty curve for the puzzles?

Game Designer:
Oh no, sir, absolutely not!
Difficulty spikes are going to be aggressively random.
You’ll go from “spot the odd one out” to “design a new financial system for post-war Europe” within like, two puzzles.

Publisher:
Sounds deeply upsetting!

Game Designer:
It’s going to feel like being repeatedly slapped by a teacup.

Publisher:
At least the story will be gripping and the voice acting will be top notch, right?

Game Designer:
Well...
(smiles proudly)
We hired one actor to voice every single character in the game!

Publisher:
Every character?

Game Designer:
Every. Single. Character.
Male, female, young, old — one guy. And he's going to do different silly voices for each one!

Publisher:
Oh, that's great! Players love it when they realize the same guy is pretending to be an old woman and a 10-year-old boy in the same conversation!

Game Designer:
Super charming! Super confusing!

Publisher:
And the narrator?

Game Designer:
Also the same guy.
And he’ll sarcastically judge you every time you mess up.

Publisher:
Oh, being ridiculed while trying to solve riddles during a murder investigation is tight!

[Suddenly: Dramatic strings sound.
DUN DUN DUNNNNN!]

Publisher:
What was that?!

Game Designer:
Every time anything remotely suspicious happens in the story, we’re going to smash-cut to a dramatic horror sting.

Publisher:
Even for tiny things?

Game Designer:
Oh, ESPECIALLY tiny things.
Like:
(dramatic voice)
“Mrs. Garibaldi misplaced her umbrella…”
DUN DUN DUNNNNN!

Publisher:
So the tone will wildly swing between Scooby-Doo silliness and Hitchcockian suspense at random?

Game Designer:
Exactly! It’s emotional whiplash, but make it charming!

Publisher:
Okay, but the puzzles at least fit the story, right?

Game Designer:
Oh, sometimes!
But often it’ll just be “Hey, a man has been stabbed in the town square — QUICKLY SOLVE THIS LOGIC GRID ABOUT VEGETABLES!”

Publisher:
That’s… absolutely insane!

Game Designer:
Players are going to feel like detectives… and also like they accidentally signed up for a village pub quiz.

[Suddenly: HARRY HILL bursts through a wall, waving his arms.]

Harry Hill:
WAIT! Serious question — who’s better, the Publisher or the Game Designer?!

Publisher and Game Designer (in unison):
What?!

Harry Hill (grinning):
THERE’S ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT…
(screaming at full volume)
FIIIIIIIIIGHT!!!

[Confetti explodes. MR BLOBBY charges in, shrieking BLOBBY BLOBBY BLOBBY while demolishing a desk.]

Game Designer (dodging):
Oh god, it’s Blobby! Brace for impact!

Publisher (yelling):
Why is he sticky? WHY IS HE SO STICKY?

[GORDON RAMSAY storms in, screaming.]

Gordon Ramsay:
THIS GAME IS A DISASTER! SOLVING MURDERS BY CONNECTING DOTS?! WHAT ARE YOU, SIX YEARS OLD?

Game Designer (defensive):
It’s supposed to be eccentrically charming!

Gordon Ramsay:
IT’S ECCENTRIC, ALL RIGHT! ECCENTRICALLY TERRIBLE!

[CHUCKLE BROTHERS enter, carrying a broken magnifying glass.]

Barry Chuckle:
To me!

Paul Chuckle:
To you!

[They pass the magnifying glass back and forth until it shatters completely.]

Bill Bailey (walking in playing mournful banjo music):
🎵 "Dead bodies and word jumbles,
Lost hats and logic tumbles…" 🎵

Publisher (ducking a thrown puzzle piece):
Is this still a pitch meeting?

Game Designer:
Technically yes, but also no.

[DUN DUN DUNNNNN!!!]

(Mr Blobby sits on the Publisher.)

Publisher (muffled):
I think Mr. Blobby just solved the first murder by accident.

Game Designer (helping him up):
We’re rewriting the ending!

Harry Hill (laughing wildly):
You know what? Forget the pitch — the real mystery is who’ll survive this meeting!

Gordon Ramsay (shouting at Mr Blobby):
YOU’RE A BLOODY RAW MARSHMALLOW IN A SUIT!

Mr Blobby:
BLOBBY BLOBBY BLOBBY!

[Chuckle Brothers try to untangle a Sudoku grid that’s caught in Bill Bailey’s banjo strings.]

Publisher (catching breath):
Okay, new plan. We’re joining the chaos.

Game Designer:
Absolutely. Time for total British anarchy.

Publisher (grinning):
TO ME!

Game Designer:
TO YOU!

[They charge into the melee, hurling crossword puzzles like ninja stars.]

[End screen: SUPER EASY, BARELY AN INCONVENIENCE.]

[BONUS POST-CREDITS SCENE:]

Harry Hill, covered in jam and confetti:
Next pitch:
(serious voice)
Blue Toad Murder Files 2: Electric Blobbyloo.

Mr. Blobby:
BLOBBY BLOBBY BLOBBY!

---

Just another bloke
Can't you hear cries for tea?
Just another bloke
Dropped out of sleuth school, probably
Sick and tired of crosswords
The more I flex my grey cells
The more I mess up
The more I need biscuits
But that’s precisely when I must pretend I care

Oh, I muddle through clues again and again
Mostly for nosy villagers with damp socks
I’ll still turn up, even if I’m just another bloke
Just another bloke
Won’t hide behind a hedge forever
Face my own wobbly reflection
I’m the most lukewarm of lads
It’s my entire personality

I’m never gonna tidy up
Never gonna read the briefing
Can't be asked to solve this daft murder cleanly
There are many whinges for our help
There are hopes for all the bumbling nitwits with jam on their hands
I’m the heir to absolutely nothing
Ain’t no twist of fate
Can't stand back or politely stay silent
There are many whinges for our help
There are hopes for all the halfwit sleuths dodging crosswords

How do I live?
How do I dream?
Sometimes wanna just move to Wales
Must tighten my belt
But it's chafing something awful
You know I’m not smart enough for all this

How do I grieve? How do I scream?
Probably into a lukewarm pint
Yes, I'm still a bit bewildered
But there’s no time to sit down
And so I mutter:
“Well, here goes absolutely nothing.”

Just another bloke
Can't you hear cries for tea?

---

I am a murder with no urgency,
A crossword wrapped in an alibi,
A crime scene solved by guessing how many jam tarts were baked on a Wednesday.

I promise suspense, then ask you to rearrange vegetables for clues.

Sometimes I shout DUN DUN DUN over someone dropping their hat.
Sometimes I demand a perfect solution in the time it takes to blink.

I am beloved for my British charm,
And baffling for my absolute lack of logic.

I hand out gold medals for remembering what color someone's cat was,
Then punish you brutally for forgetting a man's middle name.
My puzzles swing from "baby's first jigsaw" to "solve ancient Greek riddles" in seconds.
Half the town's suspects are guilty of something, but mostly bad fashion choices.
And somehow, I'm still utterly delightful.

What am I?

Answer:

👉 Blue Toad Murder Files — where you investigate crimes, lose at puzzles, and win at confusing yourself!