Automatic clock
Over a week
Each phase lasts 24 hours. A game spreads over a week. You open it whenever suits you: on waking to find out who vanished, at lunch to plead your case, in the evening to pick your target. Nobody waits for anybody.
Eight nights, seven days at most. In between, everything hinges on what people agree to say.
Nothing has to be hidden. Your role, what you did or saw last night, the information you received, your suspicions: you reveal what you want, when you want.
Side conversations, away from the shared rooms, are allowed.
The one strictly forbidden thing: showing your screen to another player.
The Werewolves hunt together: they open the district view, pick a district, then mark a prey. The whole pack votes, and a counter shows how many wolves are aiming at each target. Meanwhile, the roles with powers act on their own.
The night's victim is announced to the village. The previous day's ballots are revealed automatically — nobody triggers it, it happens on its own.
Only during the very first day phase. Debate, then vote. A second round separates the finalists; if the tie holds, chance decides.
This is the heart of the day, and the mayor holds the helm: you go through them to take the floor.
The village condemns a suspect to the stake. As with the election, a second round can break a tie.
The day closes, the count is settled, and night falls on the village again.
The roles, the factions and the flow are identical. Only the speed of time changes.
Automatic clock
Each phase lasts 24 hours. A game spreads over a week. You open it whenever suits you: on waking to find out who vanished, at lunch to plead your case, in the evening to pick your target. Nobody waits for anybody.
Manual clock
The Game Master triggers each phase, when the players are ready. They can force it through at any time: the game switches ten seconds after the click. The rhythm of a table with everyone sitting around it.
Dying does not silence you. You keep talking to the living and to the dead, until your faction and your role are revealed to the village.
But you never give them away yourself: you still play for your faction, and what you keep quiet counts as much as what you say.
You do, however, lose every power and your voice in the vote. Speech becomes your only lever.
The Village wins when every Werewolf is eliminated, or when their share has dropped far enough by the end.
The Werewolves win when there is no prey left, or when their number matches the village's by the end.
The Occult Cult has its own conditions: each faction spells them out on its own page.