The Bloody Inn: Diabolical True Crime & Tabletop Talk

There’s something oddly delightful about dealing in death… at least when it’s made of cardboard.

One of my favorite board games of all time is ‘The Bloody Inn’ by Pearl Games. Set in rural 1830s France, you and your fellow players are the proprietors of a remote inn with a morbid twist—you’re not in it just to host guests, but to murder the wealthy ones and bury their bodies under the floorboards before the authorities catch on. It’s tongue-in-cheek. It’s tactically clever. And yes—it’s wickedly fun.

But the strangest part? It’s inspired by a real and rather horrifying series of events.

The “Real” Bloody Inn

Long before the board game or its comical namesake film adaptation in 1951, ‘L’Auberge Rouge’ (The Red Inn) was a real roadside stop near Peyrebeille in the Ardèche region of France. Run by Ultra Royalists of the former king, Pierre and Marie Martin, the inn reportedly became the scene of numerous disappearances and deaths over the course of two decades in the early 1800s.

The couple, along with their servant Jean Rochette, were arrested in 1831 after the mysterious disappearance of a horse dealer named Antoine Enjolras. His body was discovered near the Allier River, and had suspicious final whereabouts at this inn. Whispers and rumors from peasants in the area exploded into public outcry, and eventually, the trio was accused of rape, cannibalism, and over 50 murders. Yet, only convicted of one. However, that was more than enough to justify their execution right in front of their storied inn.

The inn remains today and is now a grim roadside attraction and museum, drawing morbid curiosity and dark history lovers alike. The legend has taken on a life of its own—fueled by folklore, dramatizations, and reinterpretations that lean less on evidence and more on eerie atmosphere and tabloid-like scandal.

Did this family commit these atrocities? All of the evidence brought against them was hearsay, second hand, and/or completely unsubstantiated lies. Such was the Napoleanic Code of the time. Especially against controversial political rivals. All testimony from the 100 “witnesses” were admissible in court. Their fate was sealed.

Morality and Macabre Laughter

So what makes this the perfect setting for a board game?

The Bloody Inn invites players to revel in the audacity of playing scheming killers taking guests for the money in their pockets. The art is dour, rough, and deadpan. Begging you to give life to it. The strategy is tight and methodical. And the laughs come easy as someone smirks, “Do I really have the right accomplices to build a crypt for more bodies AND pay off the priest this turn? How much money is that guest worth?”

It’s a masterclass in macabre comedy, and yet, every time I play it, a subtle chill remains beneath the surface. Because this is based on something real. People died. A family was beheaded in front of their home to the blood thirsty vitriol of a crowd of townsfolk. But we still play.

We still laugh.

From Tragedy to Tabletop

The same story has echoed through centuries of entertainment. The 1951 French film L’Auberge Rouge played the legend as farce, and Pearl Games transformed the tale into a darkly comic Eurogame. And now, I find myself even adapting this setting into a full tabletop roleplaying game inspired by the same events.

The question that haunts me most isn’t whether this is in bad taste—it’s why we do it.

Why are we so drawn to these morbid tales? What makes tragedy easier to handle when it’s wrapped in humor, or abstracted into mechanics? Why do games that simulate fictional murder become dinner party staples? And what does it say about us that we are most comfortable confronting death when we can giggle while doing it?

I don’t have the answer. But I do have a copy of the hilarious 1951 macabre French film L’Auberge Rouge and The Bloody Inn boardgame on my shelf—and a frequent table of players laughing as they dig another shallow grave. I also am writing a grimdark survival horror roleplaying game inspired by the diabolical table talk of this very game. (Pssst! Keep up with my progress and playtesting via www.ariesbrood.com!)

What is wrong with me?

And perhaps that important introspection, in itself, says more than enough and what we’re really trying to understand.