Most people would say it started with the Fireflies, but they'd be wrong. It ended with all those things. For me, it began with Robert Paglino. At the age of eight, he was my best and only friend.

We were fellow outcasts, bound by complementary misfortune. Mine was developmental. His was genetic: an uncontrolled genotype that left him predisposed to nearsightedness, acne, and as it later turned out a susceptibility to narcotics.

His parents had never had him optimized. Those few TwenCen relics who still believed in God also held that one shouldn't try to improve upon His handiwork. So although both of us could have been repaired, only one of us had been. I arrived at the playground to find Pag the center of attention for some half-dozen kids, those lucky few in front punching him in the head, the others making do with taunts of mongrel and polly while waiting their turn.

I watched him raise his arms, almost hesitantly, to ward off the worst of the blows. I could see into his head better than I could see into my own; he was scared that his attackers might think those hands were coming up to hit back , that they'd read it as an act of defiance and hurt him even more.

Even then, at the tender age of eight and with half my mind gone, I was becoming a superlative observer. But I didn't know what to do. I hadn't seen much of Pag lately. I was pretty sure he'd been avoiding me. Still, when your best friend's in trouble you help out, right?

Even if the odds are impossible—and how many eight-year-olds would go up against six bigger kids for a sandbox buddy? Flag a sentry. I just stood there.

I didn't even especially want to help him. That didn't make sense. Even if he hadn't been my best friend, I should at least have empathized. I'd suffered less than Pag in the way of overt violence; my seizures tended to keep the other kids at a distance, scared them even as they incapacitated me.

I was no stranger to the taunts and insults, or the foot that appears from nowhere to trip you up en route from A to B. I knew how that felt. Or I had, once. But that part of me had been cut out along with the bad wiring. I was still working up the algorithms to get it back, still learning by observation.

Pack animals always tear apart the weaklings in their midst. Every child knows that much instinctively. Maybe I should just let that process unfold, maybe I shouldn't try to mess with nature. Then again, Pag's parents hadn't messed with nature, and look what it got them: a son curled up in the dirt while a bunch of engineered superboys kicked in his ribs.

In the end, propaganda worked where empathy failed. Back then I didn't so much think as observe, didn't deduce so much as remember —and what I remembered was a thousand inspirational stories lauding anyone who ever stuck up for the underdog.

So I picked up a rock the size of my fist and hit two of Pag's assailants across the backs of their heads before anyone even knew I was in the game. A third, turning to face the new threat, took a blow to the face that audibly crunched the bones of his cheek.

I remember wondering why I didn't take any satisfaction from that sound, why it meant nothing beyond the fact I had one less opponent to worry about. The rest of them ran at the sight of blood. One of the braver promised me I was dead, shouted " Fucking zombie!

Three decades it took, to see the irony in that remark. Two of the enemy twitched at my feet. I kicked one in the head until it stopped moving, turned to the other. Something grabbed my arm and I swung without thinking, without looking until Pag yelped and ducked out of reach.

One thing lay motionless. The other moaned and held its head and curled up in a ball. Blood coursed unheeded from his nose and splattered down his shirt.

His cheek was turning blue and yellow. I thought of something to say. Blood smeared the back of his hand. The moaning thing was crawling away on all fours. I wondered how long it would be before it found reinforcements.

I wondered if I should kill it before then. Before the operation, he meant. I actually did feel something then—faint, distant, but unmistakable. I felt angry. Pag backed away, eyes wide. Put that down! I'd raised my fists. I didn't remember doing that. I unclenched them. It took a while.

I had to look at my hands very hard for a long, long time. The rock dropped to the ground, blood-slick and glistening. Don't be a fuckwad. For the ep—". You think I don't know? But you were in that half—or, like, part of you was It's like, your mom and dad murdered you—". I would have died.

You're not the same. Ever since. I still don't know if Pag really knew what he was saying. Maybe his mother had just pulled the plug on whatever game he'd been wired into for the previous eighteen hours, forced him outside for some fresh air. Maybe, after fighting pod people in gamespace, he couldn't help but see them everywhere.

But you could make a case for what he said. I do remember Helen telling me and telling me how difficult it was to adjust. Like you had a whole new personality , she said, and why not?

There's a reason they call it radical hemispherectomy: half the brain thrown out with yesterday's krill, the remaining half press-ganged into double duty.

Think of all the rewiring that one lonely hemisphere must have struggled with as it tried to take up the slack. It turned out okay, obviously. The brain's a very flexible piece of meat; it took some doing, but it adapted. I adapted. Think of all that must have been squeezed out, deformed, reshaped by the time the renovations were through.

You could argue that I'm a different person than the one who used to occupy this body. The grownups showed up eventually, of course. Medicine was bestowed, ambulances called.

Parents were outraged, diplomatic volleys exchanged, but it's tough to drum up neighborhood outrage on behalf of your injured baby when playground surveillance from three angles shows the little darling—and five of his buddies— kicking in the ribs of a disabled boy.

My mother, for her part, recycled the usual complaints about problem children and absentee fathers—Dad was off again in some other hemisphere—but the dust settled pretty quickly. Pag and I even stayed friends, after a short hiatus that reminded us both of the limited social prospects open to schoolyard rejects who don't stick together.

So I survived that and a million other childhood experiences. I grew up and I got along. I learned to fit in. I observed, recorded, derived the algorithms and mimicked appropriate behaviors. Not much of it was—heartfelt, I guess the word is. I had friends and enemies, like everyone else.

I chose them by running through checklists of behaviors and circumstances compiled from years of observation. I may have grown up distant but I grew up objective , and I have Robert Paglino to thank for that. His seminal observation set everything in motion.

It led me into Synthesis, fated me to our disastrous encounter with the Scramblers, spared me the worse fate befalling Earth. Or the better one, I suppose, depending on your point of view.

Point of view matters : I see that now, blind, talking to myself, trapped in a coffin falling past the edge of the solar system. I see it for the first time since some beaten bloody friend on a childhood battlefield convinced me to throw my own point of view away.

He may have been wrong. I may have been. But that, that distance —that chronic sense of being an alien among your own kind—it's not entirely a bad thing.

It came in especially handy when the real aliens came calling. Imagine you are Siri Keeton:. You wake in an agony of resurrection, gasping after a record-shattering bout of sleep apnea spanning one hundred forty days. You can feel your blood, syrupy with dobutamine and leuenkephalin, forcing its way through arteries shriveled by months on standby.

The body inflates in painful increments: blood vessels dilate; flesh peels apart from flesh; ribs crack in your ears with sudden unaccustomed flexion. Your joints have seized up through disuse. You're a stick-man, frozen in some perverse rigor vitae. You'd scream if you had the breath. Vampires did this all the time, you remember.

It was normal for them, it was their own unique take on resource conservation. They could have taught your kind a few things about restraint, if that absurd aversion to right-angles hadn't done them in at the dawn of civilization.

Maybe they still can. They're back now, after all— raised from the grave with the voodoo of paleogenetics, stitched together from junk genes and fossil marrow steeped in the blood of sociopaths and high-functioning autistics.

One of them commands this very mission. A handful of his genes live on in your own body so it too can rise from the dead, here at the edge of interstellar space.

Nobody gets past Jupiter without becoming part vampire. The pain begins, just slightly, to recede. You fire up your inlays and access your own vitals: it'll be long minutes before your body responds fully to motor commands, hours before it stops hurting.

The pain's an unavoidable side effect. That's just what happens when you splice vampire subroutines into Human code. You asked about painkillers once, but nerve blocks of any kind compromise metabolic reactivation.

Suck it up, soldier. You wonder if this was how it felt for Chelsea, before the end. But that evokes a whole other kind of pain, so you block it out and concentrate on the life pushing its way back into your extremities.

Suffering in silence, you check the logs for fresh telemetry. You think: That can't be right. Because if it is, you're in the wrong part of the universe. You're not in the Kuiper Belt where you belong: you're high above the ecliptic and deep into the Oort, the realm of long-period comets that only grace the sun every million years or so.

You've gone interstellar , which means you bring up the system clock you've been undead for eighteen hundred days. You've overslept by almost five years. The lid of your coffin slides away. Your own cadaverous body reflects from the mirrored bulkhead opposite, a desiccated lungfish waiting for the rains.

Bladders of isotonic saline cling to its limbs like engorged antiparasites, like the opposite of leeches. You remember the needles going in just before you shut down, way back when your veins were more than dry twisted filaments of beef jerky.

Szpindel's reflection stares back from his own pod to your immediate right. His face is as bloodless and skeletal as yours. His wide sunken eyes jiggle in their sockets as he reacquires his own links, sensory interfaces so massive that your own off-the-shelf inlays amount to shadow-puppetry in comparison.

You hear coughing and the rustling of limbs just past line-of-sight, catch glimpses of reflected motion where the others stir at the edge of vision. Szpindel works his jaw. Bone cracks audibly. You haven't even met the aliens yet, and already they're running rings around you. So we dragged ourselves back from the dead: five part-time cadavers, naked, emaciated, barely able to move even in zero gee.

We emerged from our coffins like premature moths ripped from their cocoons, still half-grub. We were alone and off course and utterly helpless, and it took a conscious effort to remember: they would never have risked our lives if we hadn't been essential.

Just past him, Susan James was curled into a loose fetal ball, murmuring to herselves. Only Amanda Bates, already dressed and cycling through a sequence of bone-cracking isometrics, possessed anything approaching mobility.

Every now and then she tried bouncing a rubber ball off the bulkhead; but not even she was up to catching it on the rebound yet. The journey had melted us down to a common archetype. James' round cheeks and hips, Szpindel's high forehead and lumpy, lanky chassis—even the enhanced carboplatinum brick shit-house that Bates used for a body— all had shriveled to the same desiccated collection of sticks and bones.

Even our hair seemed to have become strangely discolored during the voyage, although I knew that was impossible. More likely it was just filtering the pallor of the skin beneath. The pre-dead James had been dirty blond, Szpindel's hair had been almost dark enough to call black — but the stuff floating from their scalps looked the same dull kelpy brown to me now.

Bates kept her head shaved, but even her eyebrows weren't as rusty as I remembered them. We'd revert to our old selves soon enough. Just add water. For now, though, the old slur was freshly relevant: the Undead really did all look the same, if you didn't know how to look.

If you did, of course—if you forgot appearance and watched for motion, ignored meat and studied topology —you'd never mistake one for another. Every facial tic was a data point, every conversational pause spoke volumes more than the words to either side.

I could see James' personae shatter and coalesce in the flutter of an eyelash. Szpindel's unspoken distrust of Amanda Bates shouted from the corner of his smile. Every twitch of the phenotype cried aloud to anyone who knew the language.

Szpindel's lips cracked in a small rictus. Getting the ship to build some dirt to lie on. James again: "Could do that up here. And some things you kept to yourself. Not many baselines felt comfortable locking stares with a vampire—Sarasti, ever courteous, tended to avoid eye contact for exactly that reason—but there were other surfaces to his topology, just as mammalian and just as readable.

If he had withdrawn from public view, maybe I was the reason. Maybe he was keeping secrets. After all, Theseus damn well was.

She'd taken us a good fifteen AUs towards our destination before something scared her off course. Then she'd skidded north like a startled cat and started climbing: a wild high three-gee burn off the ecliptic, thirteen hundred tonnes of momentum bucking against Newton's First.

She'd emptied her Penn tanks, bled dry her substrate mass, squandered a hundred forty days' of fuel in hours. Then a long cold coast through the abyss, years of stingy accounting, the thrust of every antiproton weighed against the drag of sieving it from the void.

Teleportation isn't magic: the Icarus stream couldn't send us the actual antimatter it made, only the quantum specs. Theseus had to filterfeed the raw material from space, one ion at a time.

For long dark years she'd made do on pure inertia, hoarding every swallowed atom. Then a flip; ionizing lasers strafing the space ahead; a ramscoop thrown wide in a hard brake. The weight of a trillion trillion protons slowed her down and refilled her gut and flattened us all over again.

Theseus had burned relentless until almost the moment of our resurrection. It was easy enough to retrace those steps; our course was there in ConSensus for anyone to see.

Exactly why the ship had blazed that trail was another matter. Doubtless it would all come out during the post-rez briefing.

We were hardly the first vessel to travel under the cloak of sealed orders , and if there'd been a pressing need to know by now we'd have known by now. Still, I wondered who had locked out the Comm logs. Mission Control, maybe. Or Sarasti. Or Theseus herself, for that matter.

It was easy to forget the Quantical AI at the heart of our ship. It stayed so discreetly in the background, nurtured and carried us and permeated our existence like an unobtrusive God; but like God, it never took your calls. Sarasti was the official intermediary. When the ship did speak, it spoke to him— and Sarasti called it Captain.

So did we all. He'd given us four hours to come back. It took more than three just to get me out of the crypt. By then my brain was at least firing on most of its synapses, although my body—still sucking fluids like a thirsty sponge— continued to ache with every movement.

I swapped out drained electrolyte bags for fresh ones and headed aft. Fifteen minutes to spin-up. Fifty to the post-resurrection briefing. Just enough time for those who preferred gravity-bound sleep to haul their personal effects into the drum and stake out their allotted 4. Gravity—or any centripetal facsimile thereof—did not appeal to me.

I set up my own tent in zero-gee and as far to stern as possible, nuzzling the forward wall of the starboard shuttle tube. The tent inflated like an abscess on Theseus' spine, a little climate-controlled bubble of atmosphere in the dark cavernous vacuum beneath the ship's carapace.

My own effects were minimal; it took all of thirty seconds to stick them to the wall, and another thirty to program the tent's environment. Afterwards I went for a hike. After five years, I needed the exercise. Stern was closest, so I started there: at the shielding that separated payload from propulsion.

A single sealed hatch blistered the aft bulkhead dead center. Behind it, a service tunnel wormed back through machinery best left untouched by human hands.

The fat superconducting torus of the ramscoop ring; the antennae fan behind it, unwound now into an indestructible soap-bubble big enough to shroud a city, its face turned sunward to catch the faint quantum sparkle of the Icarus antimatter stream.

More shielding behind that; then the telematter reactor, where raw hydrogen and refined information conjured fire three hundred times hotter than the sun's.

I knew the incantations, of course—antimatter cracking and deconstruction, the teleportation of quantum serial numbers—but it was still magic to me, how we'd come so far so fast. It would have been magic to anyone.

Except Sarasti, maybe. Around me, the same magic worked at cooler temperatures and to less volatile ends: a small riot of chutes and dispensers crowded the bulkhead on all sides. A few of those openings would choke on my fist: one or two could swallow me whole.

Theseus ' fabrication plant could build everything from cutlery to cockpits. Give it a big enough matter stockpile and it could have even been built another Theseus , albeit in many small pieces and over a very long time. Some wondered if it could build another crew as well, although we'd all been assured that was impossible.

Not even these machines had fine enough fingers to reconstruct a few trillion synapses in the space of a human skull. Not yet, anyway.

I believed it. They would never have shipped us out fully-assembled if there'd been a cheaper alternative. I faced forward. Putting the back of my head against that sealed hatch I could see almost to Theseus ' bow, an uninterrupted line-of-sight extending to a tiny dark bull's-eye thirty meters ahead.

It was like staring at a great textured target in shades of white and gray: concentric circles, hatches centered within bulkheads one behind another, perfectly aligned. Every one stood open, in nonchalant defiance of a previous generation's safety codes.

We could keep them closed if we wanted to, if it made us feel safer. That was all it would do, though; it wouldn't improve our empirical odds one whit. In the event of trouble those hatches would slam shut long milliseconds before Human senses could even make sense of an alarm.

They weren't even computer-controlled. Theseus ' body parts had reflexes. I pushed off against the stern plating—wincing at the tug and stretch of disused tendons—and coasted forward, leaving Fab behind. The shuttle-access hatches to Scylla and Charybdis briefly constricted my passage to either side.

Past them the spine widened into a corrugated extensible cylinder two meters across and—at the moment—maybe fifteen long. A pair of ladders ran opposite each other along its length; raised portholes the size of manhole covers stippled the bulkhead to either side. Most of those just looked into the hold.

A couple served as general-purpose airlocks, should anyone want to take a stroll beneath the carapace. One opened into my tent. Another, four meters further forward, opened into Bates'. From a third, just short of the forward bulkhead, Jukka Sarasti climbed into view like a long white spider. If he'd been Human I'd have known instantly what I saw there, I'd have smelled murderer all over his topology.

And I wouldn't have been able to even guess at the number of his victims, because his affect was so utterly without remorse. The killing of a hundred would leave no more stain on Sarasti's surfaces than the swatting of an insect; guilt beaded and rolled off this creature like water on wax.

But Sarasti wasn't human. Sarasti was a whole different animal, and coming from him all those homicidal refractions meant nothing more than predator. He had the inclination, was born to it; whether he had ever acted on it was between him and Mission Control. Maybe they cut you some slack , I didn't say to him.

Maybe it's just a cost of doing business. You're mission-critical, after all. For all I know you cut a deal. You're so very smart, you know we wouldn't have brought you back in the first place if we hadn't needed you.

From the day they cracked the vat you knew you had leverage. Is that how it works, Jukka? You save the world, and the folks who hold your leash agree to look the other way? As a child I'd read tales about jungle predators transfixing their prey with a stare.

Only after I'd met Jukka Sarasti did I know how it felt. But he wasn't looking at me now. He was focused on installing his own tent, and even if he had looked me in the eye there'd have been nothing to see but the dark wraparound visor he wore in deference to Human skittishness.

He ignored me as I grabbed a nearby rung and squeezed past. I could have sworn I smelled raw meat on his breath. Into the drum drums , technically; the BioMed hoop at the back spun on its own bearings. I flew through the center of a cylinder sixteen meters across. Theseus ' spinal nerves ran along its axis, the exposed plexii and piping bundled against the ladders on either side.

Past them, Szpindel's and James' freshly-erected tents rose from nooks on opposite sides of the world. Szpindel himself floated off my shoulder, still naked but for his gloves, and I could tell from the way his fingers moved that his favorite color was green.

He anchored himself to one of three stairways to nowhere arrayed around the drum: steep narrow steps rising five vertical meters from the deck into empty air. The next hatch gaped dead-center of the drum's forward wall; pipes and conduits plunged into the bulkhead to each side.

I grabbed a convenient rung to slow myself—biting down once more on the pain—and floated through. The spinal corridor continued forward, a smaller diverticulum branched off to an EVA cubby and the forward airlock. I stayed the course and found myself back in the crypt, mirror-bright and less than two meters deep.

Empty pods gaped to the left; sealed ones huddled to the right. We were so irreplaceable we'd come with replacements. They slept on, oblivious. I'd met three of them back in training. Hopefully none of us would be getting reacquainted any time soon.

Only four pods to starboard, though. No backup for Sarasti. Another hatchway. Smaller this time. I squeezed through into the bridge. Dim light there, a silent shifting mosaic of icons and alphanumerics iterating across dark glassy surfaces.

Not so much bridge as cockpit, and a cramped one at that. I'd emerged between two acceleration couches, each surrounded by a horseshoe array of controls and readouts.

Nobody expected to ever use this compartment. Theseus was perfectly capable of running herself, and if she wasn't we were capable of running her from our inlays, and if we weren't the odds were overwhelming that we were all dead anyway. Still, against that astronomically off-the-wall chance, this was where one or two intrepid survivors could pilot the ship home again after everything else had failed.

Between the footwells the engineers had crammed one last hatch and one last passageway: to the observation blister on Theseus ' prow. I hunched my shoulders tendons cracked and complained and pushed through—.

Clamshell shielding covered the outside of the dome like a pair of eyelids squeezed tight. A single icon glowed softly from a touchpad to my left; faint stray light followed me through from the spine, brushed dim fingers across the concave enclosure.

The dome resolved in faint shades of blue and gray as my eyes adjusted. A stale draft stirred the webbing floating from the rear bulkhead, mixed oil and machinery at the back of my throat. Buckles clicked faintly in the breeze like impoverished wind chimes.

I reached out and touched the crystal: the innermost layer of two, warm air piped through the gap between to cut the cold. Not completely, though. My fingertips chilled instantly. Space out there. Perhaps, en route to our original destination, Theseus had seen something that scared her clear out of the solar system.

More likely she hadn't been running away from anything but to something else, something that hadn't been discovered until we'd already died and gone from Heaven. In which case I reached back and tapped the touchpad.

I half-expected nothing to happen; Theseus' windows could be as easily locked as her comm logs. But the dome split instantly before me, a crack then a crescent then a wide-eyed lidless stare as the shielding slid smoothly back into the hull.

My fingers clenched reflexively into a fistful of webbing. The sudden void stretched empty and unforgiving in all directions, and there was nothing to cling to but a metal disk barely four meters across. Stars, everywhere. So many stars that I could not for the life me understand how the sky could contain them all yet be so black.

Stars, and—. What did you expect? I chided myself. An alien mothership hanging off the starboard bow? Well, why not? We were out here for something. The others were, anyway.

They'd be essential no matter where we'd ended up. But my own situation was a bit different, I realized. My usefulness degraded with distance. And we were over half a light year from home. Where was I when the lights came down?

I was emerging from the gates of Heaven, mourning a father who was—to his own mind, at least—still alive. It had been scarcely two months since Helen had disappeared under the cowl. Two months by our reckoning, at least. From her perspective it could have been a day or a decade; the Virtually Omnipotent set their subjective clocks along with everything else.

She wasn't coming back. She would only deign to see her husband under conditions that amounted to a slap in the face. He didn't complain. Chacun a un nombre de carte.

Un joueur choisi une carte qu'il va passer face caché à un autre joueur en déclarant que la carte est une certaine créature. Le joueur qui reçoit la carte peu choisir soit de déclarer que c'est vrai ou faux et regarder la carte ou de prendre la carte et la passer à un autre joueur en déclarant que c'est la créature qui à été nomé ou une autre créature.

Si le joueur a bien deviné, c'est le joueur qui lui a passé la carte qui doit mettre la carte face ouverte devant lui. Si le joueur a mal deviné, c'est lui qui reçois la carte. Lorsqu'un joueur a 4 créatures identique devant lui face ouverte; il perd le jeu et tous les autres gagnent. Ce jeu, est conçu pour que les menteurs puissent gagner.

Pour pouvoir se débarrasser de nos cartes nous devons réussir à les redonner aux autres joueurs. Par contre ceux qui n'ont pas de poker face risque de devoir utiliser des stratégies diverses tel que l'observation, comptage de cartes etc.

Afin d'obtenir la victoire. La durée des partie est relativement bien, et il n'est pas rare que nous avons envie de rejouer parties consécutives. Bon jeu pour la famille, facile a enseigner.

Il est aussi important de se souvenir des noms des bibittes. Je recommande. You want an easy to learn game? You want to bluff and give your friends toads?

This is the game! Family friendly. Played when I was little, bought it again and really happy about the purchase. This is a great game! It's a riot to play with your closest friends, or to help you get acquainted with new ones! I would highly recommend it to anyone who likes to play bluffing games.

Très facile à apporter un peu partout dans les soirées et le prix est abordable. Le jeu est super simple pour tous les types d'âge.

Pour être aussi simplifié au besoin en retirant les cartes "Royal" et les Jokers. Simple, mais oh combien efficace. Que ce soit pour des joueurs vétérans ou des joueurs plus occasionnels, ce petit jeu facile à comprendre fait l'unanimité.

J'avais joué à ce jeu il y as environ une vingtaine d'années, mais cette version est un peu différente avec les cartes royals. Beaucoup de plaisir en groupe. Jeu de cartes rapide a comprendre et à jouer.

Petit jeu de bluff accessible à tous. Facile à expliquer et rapide à jouer, il est parfait pour un petit moment ludique et amusant en famille ou pour un petit filler pendant une soirée entre amis. merci Imaginaire je recommande fortement.

Vous aimez bluffer: voila la chose à faire! Parfait pour ceux qui aiment mentir à leurs amis en les regardant droit dans les yeux. Verdict, achetez-le si vous êtes confortable avec la lecture de règles en anglais.

Ce jeux st très amusant à jouer entre amis et surtout très facile à apprendre. C'est pas trop un jeu de chance, mais plutot un jeu de blof. Je recommande!

Le jeux est correct sans être exceptionnel. Le problême est que rien n'empêche de s'acharner sur une seule personne. Il y a quand même eue des moments agréables et droles pendant nos parties. Livraison rapide.

Si vous voulez un bon petit jeu qui ne requiert pas trop d'explication et qu'on redemande une partie, celui-ci est parfait. Amusement garanti. Bluff au menu et amitiés qui vont se briser! Eh oui c'est le ''jeu d'enfoiré'' par excellence où vous allez mentir comme les coquins que vous êtes pour essayer de refiler vos bebittes aux autres.

C'est très simple à apprendre, donc tout le monde peut y jouer sans être mêlé?! Il est vraiment pas cher, mais au combien efficace pour mettre tout le monde dans l'ambiance?!

Vous pouvez le trainer un peu partout vu sa petite taille?! Un jeu simple à comprendre, des règles faciles, beaucoup de plaisir autant pour les enfants que les adultes!

Un coup de coeur pour la famille! Donner des bibittes à ses amis n'aura jamais été aussi amusant. Beau petit jeux facile. Tout le monde peu joué. Nous avons fait une partie avec grand-maman, qui ne joue pas a des jeux et les enfants on rit et grand-maman aussi.

Qui aurait pu imaginer que le roi du BLUFF serait grand-maman. Nous sortons se jeux soit en début ou fin de soirée. Tous les invités aiment se jeux. Un jeu de party avec des cartes bien colorés. Du bluff, de l'observation et pas mal de rires au rendez-vous. Un jeu passe partout entre deux jeux ou pour terminer la soirée.

Ce jeu se joue parfaitement avec des enfants, ou entre adultes avec de l'alcool. Beaucoup de fou rires et de trahison dans ce jeu qui nous a fait gardé de beaux souvenirs. Jeu parfait pour ceux qui ne veulent pas apprendre un jeu compliqué.

J'ADORE ce jeu. Je peux l'apporter dans ma famille et même les mois fervents de jeu de société aime le concept de bluff. Apprenez les règles en 5 secondes et vous êtes prêts à jouer!

Très amusant jeu dont les parties sont assez rapides. Par contre, certains joueurs se mêlent entre 2 insectes qui se ressemblent quand on regarde vite. Très bon jeu. Simple, rapide et efficace. Le jeu parfait a sortir pendant les soirées où on veut pas trop se casser le tête. Je le recommande.

Jeu très simple où on essais de « bluffer » les autres joueurs en leur envoyant des insectes, à eux de nous croire ou non. Très rapide et très plaisant à jouer avec tous.

Bon jeu de party qui peut être joué à plusieurs. Ce jeu est très simple on offre une carte à un joueur en annonçant ce que c'est. Le premier qui a trois cartes pareil a perdu. Ce jeu est sympathique et drôle et se joue avec des gens de tout âge. Très bon jeu familial. En fait des amis nous l'on fait découvrir il y a environ 4 ans depuis nous l'avons offert en cadeau plusieurs fois.

Pas mal tout les gens avec qui nous y avons jouer se le sont acheté tout de suite après. Donc un jeu à découvrir très bien adapter pour les famille et même entre ami. Les partie dure environ 15 minutes. Nous aimons changer une des règles. Simplement laisser votre pile de carte sur la table et quand c'est à votre tour regarder la première carte de votre pile et tenter de la filer à quelqu'un.

Drôle mais léger. À jouer avec des non-initiés et des enfants, sinon on fait vite le tour. Donner des bibites à ses amis n'aura jamais été aussi amusant. C'est un jeu plutôt facile à comprendre, quoi de mieux que ne pas se prendre la tête pour avoir du plaisir.

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A confirmation email has been sent to you. petit jeu de bluff poker avec des bibittes vous verrez qui sont les meilleurs menteurs dans vos amis.

facile rapide et pour toute la famille. Vos enfants pourront vous bluffer. I bought this version because it was apparently to complicated for my friends to understand the royal variant.

It's been doing a great job not confusing them so far! Vous aimez les jeux de bluffs simples, faciles à comprendre, qui ne sont pas trop longs? Et bien Cockroach Poker est exactement ce qu'il vous faut! Encore une fois, on ne veut pas de vermine.

Dans Cockroach poker c'est en donner que l'on veut et comment on fait par le bluff. Saurez-vous deviner si votre ami vous ment ou il dit la vérité?

Ce jeu se résume à ceci: C'est ce que je pensais qu'étais le Poker avant que je découvre que le Poker était un jeu de probabilité. Cockroach Poker a tous la partie du bluff sans la partie mathématique.

Beaucoup de rire en plus. Ce jeux est très simple. La personne la plus menteuse de votre groupe en sera réjouie. Bref, un jeu rapide où il est facile de dire ahhh encore une dernière pour ma revanche.

Excellent jeu de party!! Pour pouvoir gagner il faut comme au poker être le roi du bluff!! Beau petit jeu facile Tant que vous pouvez bluffer Règles faciles à comprendre, même pour des enfants. Pour jouer en famille ou entre adultes.

Excellent jeu à sortir lors des soirées entre amis et même sur l'heure du dîner au travail. Les règles sont simples et faciles à apprendre, et les parties sont assez courtes!!

Je le conseille fortement à tout le monde!!! Cockroach poker est le jeu par excellence pour commencer un événement soirée, journée, autre de jeu de société. We systematically examine the effects of language and instruction dataset size on a mid-sized, multilingual LLM by instruction-tuning it on parallel instruction-tuning datasets.

Our results demonstrate that instruction-tuning on parallel instead of monolingual corpora benefits cross-lingual instruction following capabilities by up to 4.

Furthermore, we show that the Superficial Alignment Hypothesis does not hold in general, as the investigated multilingual 7B parameter model presents a counter-example requiring large-scale instruction-tuning datasets.

Finally, we conduct a human annotation study to understand the alignment between human-based and GPTbased evaluation within multilingual chat scenarios.

Investigating Multilingual Instruction-Tuning: Do Polyglot Models Demand for Multilingual Instructions? Alexander Arno Weber 1,2 Klaudia Thellmann 3 Jan Ebert 4 Nicolas Flores-Herr 1. LLMs have a significant impact on the daily work of many, as they are practical to use and assist in solving natural text problems ranging from creative writing to math problems.

One of the primary reasons for their fast adoption as assistants is their facilitated usage by simply instructing the model to conduct a specific task. The training of such an assistant involves multiple stages of model training. First, an extensive, compute-intensive pre-training over large document corpora is conducted where the model is typically trained to predict the next token in a sequence.

The second step is crucial for the model to solve complex, multi-turn user requests. With the availability of strong open-source English-centric models Touvron et al. While there are adoptions of monolingual English models for other languages Uhlig et al. A fundamental problem is the availability of appropriate open-source, multilingual datasets and benchmarks for training and assessing instruction-tuned LLMs.

Here, especially the lack of multi-turn multilingual benchmarks targeting instruction-tuned models represents a major gap, as previous instruction-tuned multilingual models are only evaluated on zero- or few-shot, single-turn, academic benchmarks targeting pre-trained LLMs Muennighoff et al.

However, it is essential to evaluate the multilingual instruction-following capabilities of the model on instruction benchmarks to realistically assess the helpfulness of a model as a chat assistant. We tackle this research gap by translating MT-Bench into the parallel benchmark MT-Bench-X and systematically investigate how the language and size of instruction datasets impact the instruction-tuning of pre-trained, mid-sized multilingual LLMs for the Germanic and Italo-Western language family, including English, German, French, Italian, and Spanish, on this novel benchmark dataset.

To answer the research question, whether multilingual models pre-trained with a substantial amount of data for each language require instruction-tuning in all target languages to show competitive instruction-following capabilities across target languages, we make the following contributions:.

Creation of Lima-X, a high-quality, complex, parallel corpus comprising instructions for each English, German, French, Italian, and Spanish Section 3.

Creation of MT-Bench-X, a parallel, multilingual, human-curated evaluation dataset for evaluating instruction-tuned LLMs Section 4. Multilingual instruction-tuning study with a focus on multilingual multi-turn user request performance Section 5. Correlation analysis of the agreement levels between humans and machine on MT-Bench-X Section 6.

This section provides an overview of instruction-tuning datasets and aspects important for their utilization. Several English-focused instruction-tuning datasets have been introduced to broaden the scope of tasks and response formats by incorporating diverse sets of instructions Iyer et al.

Primarily, many of these datasets revolve around Natural Language Processing NLP benchmarks that are refined through the application of either single or multiple prompt templates for responses and requests Longpre et al.

An alternative approach involves extending only requests of NLP benchmarks by templates, but let sophisticated instruction-tuned models predict responses Zhang et al.

Examples here are OASST Köpf et al. The latter introduces the Superficial Alignment Hypothesis Kirstain et al. It states that only a few examples per task or instruction format are required to teach a LLM the response style.

At the same time, most of the capabilities and knowledge are acquired during pre-training. While gaining great performance advancements with instructional data ranked by user preferences Uhlig et al.

Muennighoff et al. With experiments involving the dataset the authors indicate, that fine-tuning solely in English is adequate for a multilingual pre-trained LLM to adapt and perform well across various tasks in other pre-trained languages.

However, these results were evaluated solely on downstream evaluation tasks for pre-trained LLMs and not on evaluation schemes developed for evaluating instruction-tuned models.

On the other hand, Holmström and Doostmohammadi translate and evaluate instruction-tuning datasets for Swedish and their results indicate translated instructions significantly improve zero-shot performance of models and strong foundation in the target language benefits model performance, which contradicts the findings of Muennighoff et al.

This discrepancy might be introduced by the lack of response diversity Li et al. Bactrian-X Li et al.

Most often multilingual benchmarks, such as XCOPA Ponti et al. While these benchmarks measure specific aspects of pre-trained LLMs by accuracy regarding a gold truth often only spanning only a few words, they fail to capture the complex diversity instruction responses may offer Zheng et al.

With MT-Bench , Zheng et al. Despite the availability of recent alternatives Liu et al. Despite these dataset releases, we utilize the same translation and quality assurance pipeline for all target languages, to allow for the same quality across translated benchmarks.

The concurrent work of the Aya Project Singh et al. While their prompts are suited for the conversational setup, a key difference to MT-Bench-X is that it only covers single turns. While works exist addressing multilingual fine-tuning, our work differs from others in central aspects:.

We conduct our instruction tuning based on a pre-trained model that has been trained with a substantial amount of data for each language, has been trained with a large number of overall tokens 1T tokens , and relies on a fair tokenizer Petrov et al. This ensures that we obtain reliable results in our multilingual setting.

We investigate whether the structural format of an instruction tuning dataset needs to be represented parallelly in each language, has to be split across languages, or should be monolingual. To investigate the defined research questions, we require high-quality parallel instruction-tuning datasets of different sizes.

While there exist multilingual instruction datasets, the distribution of languages is highly skewed towards English, as Table 1 reveals 2 2 2 The language was classified by FastText lid.

html or contain shorter, less complex responses Muennighoff et al. An exception here is Bactrian-X Li et al. Therefore, we select Bactrian-X Section 3. For both datasets, we created different multilingual compositions Section 3.

The large-scale instruction-tuning dataset Bactrian-X Li et al. We selected English, German, Italian, French and Spanish as target languages. Each sample in LIMA is highly curated, which is one benefit of its manageable size of samples. Despite the creation of a validation set with high standards of curation by Zhou et al.

Simply sampling the validation dataset from a training data split might remove samples providing important learning signals that are potentially not redundant within the remaining few samples.

We thus adapt the curation steps and create a novel validation dataset, that is described in the Appendix A. As we focus on Indo-European languages in our study, we chose to utilize DeepL as a translator performing well in these languages Yulianto and Supriatnaningsih ; Jiao et al.

We translate LIMA and the novel validation dataset into German, French, Italian, and Spanish. Before translating, we manually reviewed all training instances and marked the ones that could lead to problematic translations.

The reasons here could be i. mixed language usage in text ii. code snippets, where code comments should be translated into other languages, but control statements not iii.

samples which were written entirely in a different language other than English and iv. cultural aspects of English that are not transferable to the target language, e. Because 7 8 9. We mark 66 such cases in total and investigate whether DeepL can handle those for German. The LIMA dataset has 12 entries of non-English language, e.

However, variable names in code snippets were partially translated. Furthermore, riddles, jokes, and poems are not directly translatable, which we see as a downside of the translation approach. We mark the erroneous cases. Additionally, we compose multilingual variants of the translated monolingual datasets in our five target languages that make up Lima-X and our language selection of Bactrian-X.

Additionally, we create a variant called sampled , maintaining the same semantics of the questions as in the monolingual original but distributed equally across the five languages within the dataset. To evaluate the multilingual instruction-following capabilities of the models, a comprehensive multilingual benchmark for our target languages is indispensable.

Thus, we created, based on the existing benchmark MT-Bench Section 4. We employed MT-Bench-X to conduct a machine evaluation and a human evaluation Section 4.

For evaluating instruction-tuned models, human evaluation is considered gold standard. However, with MT-Bench Zheng et al. For automation MT-Bench utilizes LLMs -as-a-judge. The benchmark consists of 80 high-quality, two-turn user requests across 8 categories, whereas complex categories come along with reference answers.

A LLM -as-a-judge is then prompted to assess model responses either in a pair-wise mode i. comparing two model responses to determine the better answer or a tie, or in a single scoring mode, where a score between 1 to 10 is to issue.

The pair-wise mode allows to check for positional bias by prompting the judge the same task twice but with reversed model response positions.

For both modes, the judgment is generated by greedy search. The benchmark allows to reduce the cost of evaluation, as the authors showed the correlation to human evaluation agreement levels for English. The benchmark covers a diverse set of use-cases including Writing , Math , Coding , Reasoning and Extraction among others.

To answer the research question above, we prompt GPT-4 with the translated prompts, whereas the English original of Zheng et al. Thus, the focus of evaluation with MT-Bench is to assess "the quality of the response provided by an AI assistant", especially in terms of "helpfulness, relevance, accuracy, depth, creativity, and level of detail of the response", as quoted from the prompt to user and machine.

Similarly to the translation of Mulima-X we chose DeepL as translation engine to translate the questions, reference answers and judge prompts of MT-Bench from originally English to German, Spanish, Italian and French.

Along with the original English MT-Bench , this leads to a novel multilingual benchmark called MT-Bench-X , whereas publishing details are in the Appendix D. We investigate the performance of DeepL as translation engine in the Appendix B. While we consider DeepL as appropriate choice as a translation tool, there are still problematic cases, that we let manually edit for correctness and correct wording for both question and references across all languages with at least a graduate and fluent in the corresponding language.

For German 31 cases were edited, many of them minor, for French 36, for Spanish 37 and for Italian While French and German was correctly translated into the polite form, the Italian personal pronouns within user requests were translated into plural, which made many corrections necessary.

Furthermore, for programming related tasks, in some cases variable names and control sequences are translated. Other aspects noticeable when going through the questions and relevant for evaluation, are the requirement of i translation capabilities of the LLM to evaluate e. from Chinese to the translated language, and ii up-to-date knowledge e.

mentioning of GPT Additional to the user requests and references, we also translate the prompts within MT-Bench to not mix languages during evaluation with MT-Bench-X. Through the manual correction of the translated MT-Bench-X dataset, we offer a high-quality instruction-tuning evaluation benchmark resource to the community.

We utilize the currently best model available, GPT-4, which was shown to correlate best to human evaluation for English Zheng et al. Furthermore, it was reported that GPT-4 is proficient in the languages we target in our study Jiao et al. We provide an user interface inspired by Zheng et al.

Given a random question, we first set the first turn of each model response against each other and let the user choose between the options i Assistant A is better, ii Assistant B is better, iii Tie, iv both answers are not helpful or v to skip this turn. To reduce evaluation time, we let the second turn directly follow in the same manner.

During the design of the MT-Bench , Zheng et al. To omit positional bias, we randomly select the display side for each model newly for each turn.

We first describe the experimental setup in Section 5. We conclude this section with a qualitative analysis in Section 5. For answering the question whether a mix of languages is needed for multilingual fine-tuning or if monolingual tuning suffices, we conduct several fine-tunings with the datasets described in Section 3.

This includes, instruction-tuning on each monolingual dataset i. C'est un jeu de bluff pour tous. Le jeux se joue bien avec des gros groupe de 6 ou au moins de 4 joueurs. Dans tout les cas l'expérience de jeu est divertissante, amusante et tout le monde rit.

Facile à enseigner et jouer. Chacun a un nombre de carte. Un joueur choisi une carte qu'il va passer face caché à un autre joueur en déclarant que la carte est une certaine créature. Le joueur qui reçoit la carte peu choisir soit de déclarer que c'est vrai ou faux et regarder la carte ou de prendre la carte et la passer à un autre joueur en déclarant que c'est la créature qui à été nomé ou une autre créature.

Si le joueur a bien deviné, c'est le joueur qui lui a passé la carte qui doit mettre la carte face ouverte devant lui. Si le joueur a mal deviné, c'est lui qui reçois la carte. Lorsqu'un joueur a 4 créatures identique devant lui face ouverte; il perd le jeu et tous les autres gagnent.

Ce jeu, est conçu pour que les menteurs puissent gagner. Pour pouvoir se débarrasser de nos cartes nous devons réussir à les redonner aux autres joueurs.

Par contre ceux qui n'ont pas de poker face risque de devoir utiliser des stratégies diverses tel que l'observation, comptage de cartes etc. Afin d'obtenir la victoire. La durée des partie est relativement bien, et il n'est pas rare que nous avons envie de rejouer parties consécutives.

Bon jeu pour la famille, facile a enseigner. Il est aussi important de se souvenir des noms des bibittes. Je recommande. You want an easy to learn game? You want to bluff and give your friends toads? This is the game! Family friendly.

Played when I was little, bought it again and really happy about the purchase. This is a great game! It's a riot to play with your closest friends, or to help you get acquainted with new ones!

I would highly recommend it to anyone who likes to play bluffing games. Très facile à apporter un peu partout dans les soirées et le prix est abordable.

Le jeu est super simple pour tous les types d'âge. Pour être aussi simplifié au besoin en retirant les cartes "Royal" et les Jokers. Simple, mais oh combien efficace. Que ce soit pour des joueurs vétérans ou des joueurs plus occasionnels, ce petit jeu facile à comprendre fait l'unanimité.

J'avais joué à ce jeu il y as environ une vingtaine d'années, mais cette version est un peu différente avec les cartes royals. Beaucoup de plaisir en groupe. Jeu de cartes rapide a comprendre et à jouer. Petit jeu de bluff accessible à tous.

Facile à expliquer et rapide à jouer, il est parfait pour un petit moment ludique et amusant en famille ou pour un petit filler pendant une soirée entre amis. merci Imaginaire je recommande fortement.

Vous aimez bluffer: voila la chose à faire! Parfait pour ceux qui aiment mentir à leurs amis en les regardant droit dans les yeux. Verdict, achetez-le si vous êtes confortable avec la lecture de règles en anglais.

Ce jeux st très amusant à jouer entre amis et surtout très facile à apprendre. C'est pas trop un jeu de chance, mais plutot un jeu de blof. Je recommande! Le jeux est correct sans être exceptionnel. Le problême est que rien n'empêche de s'acharner sur une seule personne.

Il y a quand même eue des moments agréables et droles pendant nos parties. Livraison rapide.