I've Been Loving We're Not Really Strangers Lately
A question game isn't a new concept, per se, but something about this one has gone a long way in making me feel closer to others.
Published December 29, 2024
Related Reads
With reviewed reads linked below.
You're Not Listening by Kate Murphy — Perhaps the most relevant: a detailed overview of why and how we listen, and how we could be better at it, including tidbits like what happens in your brain when you encounter an opinion you disagree with, how one ear is better at listening to emotional problems than the other (really), how we are worse at listening to those we know because of prediction mechanisms in the brain, etc,.
How to Fall in Love with Anyone by Mandy Len Cantron — mostly because it's based on a study about falling in love based on performing a science-backed series of questions, which talks more about the psychology of why structuring in this way is effective for breaking down defenses, cultivating openness, etc,.
Attached by Amir Levine and Rachel S.F. Heller — Although I do think attachment styles are a bit astrology-esque in that you're going to read into them however you need to, I do think there's value in understanding how something like We're Not Really Stranger can be a buffer of sorts in cutting through some of the challenges of getting closer.
Irresistible by Adam Alter — references a study I've always loved that even the mere presence of a phone can actively degrade your conversation, so I think people are majorly craving the analog.
The Molecule of More by Daniel Z. Lieberman and Mike Long — for its explanation of how dopamine (wanting) and here-and-now (pleasure) systems are different — and hijacked by online communications, alcohol, etc,.—and how the changed ecosystem of our neurotransmitters impacts the quality of our in-person connection.
“'Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.' — Simone Weil”
Recently, I've been really into this structured question card game, We're Not Really Strangers. I've gone through a few different phases with this get-to-know-you activity, but I've been big on it again this fall armed with some new realizations about its effectiveness.
Structured questions aren't anything new; I vividly remember a forced Table Topics session as a kid, but We're Not Really Strangers has sexy branding that's appealed to the modern consumer, so I think some of its value lies in its relative familiarity among my group of peers, and a lot of your benefit from a "game" like this has to do in how much openness you bring to it. People are a lot more willing to play this one.
My First Encounter with the Game
I first played We're Not Really Strangers when my mom bought a set as a housewarming present (I'm including an obligatory gift guide I've written for a swankier pub) when I moved to O'ahu for the first time in fall of 2020. I'd seen it around and mentioned it, and she decided to gift it to us. I was moving in with three other roommates I'd never met before (and even quarantined with one of them in Waikiki for two weeks beforehand, figuring that if we couldn't stomach each other for that long, we better get over it quickly since our year-long lease was about to start.)
That first year in the Prospect house was special to me. We'd all met via Facebook groups and Roomies.com—Gabrielle, Lauren, and Elyse. Those first days in September, we sat on blank floors and drank wine from the "big daddy bottles" in mason jars because we didn't really have dishes or furniture yet, accumulating gradually from various marketplace hauls we spotted in Ewa Beach and Kapolei and downtown. That first night eating dinner at a $20 rattan coffee table? Bliss. It was all thrilling and delightfully cliché.
The beauty of WNRS (shortening now) wasn't so much to "get deeper" right away as the game promises, but that it was an excellent icebreaker to be less shy answering questions or giving praise about first impressions to complete strangers right away.
We ended up relieved we'd found each other and that house. I've moved up the island, but that house is actually still going strong, the same group tight after 4+ years, a rotation going in and out of the building based on moves, subleases, trips, breakups, you name it. I even moved back in for two months last year, and at this point, we've all lived in different rooms except for Gabrielle (the pillar.)
My Recent Rediscovery of the Game
Then I think We're Not Really Strangers hit me next this year. My sister used it on a series of dates, which struck me as a great idea. I did the same, nervously toting it to the beach for my first-ever Hinge date because I had no idea what to expect from meeting a total stranger and worried about getting shy.
Me (paraphrasing from memory): I figured it would be a good backup if the conversation trailed off.
Me (later), pulling it out.
Him: Did the conversation trail off?
Made me laugh. Oops! Did get shy though.
Opening up romantically has always been difficult for me, which is why blind dates aren't really my forté, and I did realize in postgrad that going to a small, tightly-knit school may have spoiled me in allowing me to get comfortable around others before any romantic interest entered the picture. I'm a slow-burn gal.
And the questions were really nice once we got past the initial awkwardness of using prompts (which you use on Hinge anyway, so.) After getting to know that person a little better in the fall, I also developed a new appreciation for the structure We're Not Really Strangers gave that first encounter. Although I can only speak for myself, I'm not sure either of us would have been open enough to venture into some of those conversations otherwise (as we're both pretty independent people), which did make me feel closer without the pressure of closeness if that makes sense.
In hindsight, I do wish I'd thought to keep going with the game on later dates too, but if we hadn't kept the thread ongoing from the second, it probably would have felt a little more pointed to pull out a card later on when we should hypothetically know each other well enough to ask some of those questions point-blank.
But that's the beauty of a card game like this, again. It gave me a necessary buffer or excuse, the format for articulating myself in a method that helped smooth out some of my knee-jerk discomfort in getting a little vulnerable.
What I've learned about WNRS—after playing it with strangers, friends, new roommates, family, that date, and a variety of others at various distances—is that it's dynamic. Your answers will change and your level of closeness will impact what you get from it and how you feel about each other. So it's not a one-time play either.
You can play it as a group or a duo or even by yourself. You can hedge certain questions and keep them shallow or go deeper. Some prompts do feel corny or repetitive, and skip whatever. I always skip the wildcards, but will circle back around to them another time.
Some prompts do feel like they belong on different levels than their labels, which I'll explain, but I'm curious as to whether that's intentional by the game-makers to keep things light or get pointed at certain times within the game's cadence if you go in the proper order or whether it's just random. Some questions will always feel too personal to someone else (and I do feel good about saying to others, "You don't have to answer that if you don't want to.")
About the Game Itself
We're Not Really Strangers comes in a small, totable red box that I can shove at the bottom of my bag (and looks attractive on my shelf.) The branding is minimal, with a few quotes like Leave connected or Inside, we're all the same. You're supposed to play with two to six people, and each set comes with 150 questions.
Opening the box, you'll see a bunch of cards divided into three sections. There's a pencil and notecard, and a Final Question that I've truthfully never played—largely because I pick up the game piecemeal.
There are three levels to the cards, that are probably pretty accurate to how we start to feel close to each other.
- Perception / notes on first impressions, personality quirks, guessed coffee orders, things like that. What's the first thing you noticed about me? How messy do you think my car is? What does my phone background tell you about me?
- Connection / probably my favorite level, especially because it varies so much depending on how well you know someone, so you absolutely notice a difference when you play it at different levels of closeness! What part of your life works versus what part of your life hurts? What lesson took you the longest to unlearn?
- Reflection / More relational, more actively related to current aspects of life, and also with some food for thought about the game. Which also may be hit-or-miss depending on closeness. What do you think I fear the most? How do our personalities complement each other? What can I help you with?
Wildcards might include challenges like show the first photo in your camera roll or call someone to tell them you appreciate them or even ask any question—none off limits, which has always been the one I never skip.
The Pursuit of Closeness? Some Personal Notes
Right now, We're Not Really Strangers seems to align very much with what I need. I do want to be close to and open to others, but I'm not entirely sure I'm there yet. I feel like I'm a little 1) rusty on the skills of growing a connection, both in friendships and romantically and 2) am overall uncomfortable with vulnerability and closeness, so know it can sometimes take me a bit more effort and intention to muscle past some internal walls.
WNRS is disarming in a good way if you let it be and just lets you relax into the cards some. You can do as many or as few as you want, but I have recently appreciated the value of forcing it.
Yeah, you can totally do all this without a set too, because they're all natural questions you might have for someone. But there's something valuable about a tool that lets you blame it or use it as a buffer. I'm my mother's daughter in that I have recently started asking a lot of questions of everyone, and so I'm a little worried at times that it may feel to someone like I'm interrogating them. So this is great.
There's validity to icebreakers despite their eyeroll corniness at times, or else we wouldn't still be doing them at work gatherings and summer camps and the like. And whenever you start to feel like it's too much, the game will throw in a softball, even in the self-reflection set.
Why It Works Psychologically
For one, I've recently read a lot about the value of indirect processing. Doing an activity can center your brain on that in a way that sometimes let you be more honest and open rather than a point-blank questions session. I played this with a friend last night and was talking with him about the concept. "If I walked through the door and asked you 'How emotionally available do you really feel right now?' without this, wouldn't you feel thrown off?" He might answer differently because of context, for better or worse.
Besides, we're better at detecting untruths when we're not focused on doing so, maybe especially within ourselves; we're more receptive and creative in situations with tools like this.
Certain personality types (like mine, in how I understand myself at the current moment) do benefit from having this sort of excuse or buffer in sharing. Like part of the reason why I absolutely adore my blog and think it's been so good for me is that I feel very clear and straightforward about emotions here in a way that I'm maybe not elsewhere (at first, at least) because I'm writing to an invisible audience and have the book review method for indirectly exploring, processing, and solving my own thoughts or problems.
In a question game, I may not be as disoriented by the intimacy of someone asking me what hurts about my life, or defensive when I ask them to name what they think I could do to most immediately improve my life. It removes some of the punch and concerns of closeness as a whole, so I don't feel as exposed. You can express yourself without feeling the weight or expectation of doing so.
Positives are also baked into the system, which the lab behind the 36 Questions That Lead to Love pointed out is a must. We're more open to others when we think they like us, and get defensive at the reverse; the facts you reach for, and the generosity in which you look at someone and approach them, changes significantly based on how we think they perceive us, regardless of how independent you believe yourself to be from the opinions of others.
You're Not Listening points out a similar duality: how well we listen to others depends on how well we believe they're listening to us. So We're Not Really Strangers sets up a good, immediate framework for openness that's simple yet effective, even if you go into it with an eyeroll. (I have gotten shot down when bringing this out to friends before—no worries!)
As a whole, I like this too because I think we're bad at telling people the many, many kind things we may observe about them, and the card game is a great method of doing so without making them feel uncomfortable or like they have to reciprocate. Not so much in a Words of Affirmation way like in the five love languages, but rather that so often, we could easily make someone's day by telling them what we think about them. A few years ago, I realized I was constantly thinking good things about others but maybe not telling them enough, and that whenever someone did so to me—or told me they'd thought about me—that it made my day. We sometimes just forget that others see us and think about us so naturally?
I make a concerted effort to text someone when they cross my mind even if it's been years since we've chatted (I also do this when I dream about someone), flag down a stranger to tell her (or him) that I love their boots, and generally just say out loud whenever I organically think a compliment. But this game makes it natural to share if you haven't cultivated that instinct either, and others might see how that verbalized positivity has such a multiplier effect. It's so little and easy once you start.
The Makers Have Expanded into Different Versions of the Questions Too
The original We're Not Really Strangers is about $25, which feels fair enough for a game you can play this often and in so many different contexts. It's similar in price to games like Ransom Notes (my family's fixation in Black Island this year) so is equivalent.
I'm technically a shopping writer in my day job, but am actually horribly practical when it comes to most gifts. (My mom got upset with me this year for asking for several things I needed but just didn't feel like spending my own money on: a dentist copay for some jaw pain, a nice trash can—which are weirdly expensive, and my next haul of Costco groceries. A few years ago, she told me I should not be asking for a printer in the same year my six-years-older sister asked the same, but I'd use it all the time!!)
Long story long: I generally don't need anything, so am very attuned to "bang for your buck" and prefer to give and receive gifts I think I'll use every day. We're Not Really Strangers is the epitome of a fun gift for me: something you wouldn't think to buy yourself necessarily, but something you'd reach for frequently enough to make it worth it. It pays for itself a dozen times over, in my opinion, based on the sheer strength it's lent some of my friendships.
Which, speaking of, a spoiler alert for pals not back on island yet—We're Not Really Strangers was the singular Black Friday sale I shopped this year because they had significant deals, so I stocked up on sets for everyone I planned on gifting to. A couples set for married friends, a self-love set for an independent friend (who does already love herself but it looked sweet), a family version for my mama who always wants more bonding (which we've played in the days since Christmas), and even an adorable kids' version for my toddler niece and nephew. Questions like what's your dream playdate? and WHY? make me both laugh and melt, and I'm not sure whether it's more for them and for me, but I did send my sister a paragraph from a psych book the other day that said the average five-year-old asks 200-300 questions a day, whereas the average adult only asks 20. So I think Hallie may take to this one surprisingly well.
I threw in the healing set and breakup set to have on hand because they were so cheap, and might gift the latter to a friend still hurting over an ending. Shamelessly, I also like their merch so got this fun mug for myself.
You could get a little cynical about it (but could make this point for any sort of brand vouching for kindness/positivity/connection) that of course, they're just commercializing our need to be close and the ways that modern society has exacerbated our distance to each other, but who cares as long as the game works?
All in all, a resounding success.
Some Factors for Why We Might Love It
- I think people are somewhat exhausted by phones and crave some analog mechanisms for connection. I've seen more friends and peers than ever trying to be less online, more into "in the moment" activities, games, etc,.
- Social media also cultivates this sense of constant connectivity without depth. The Internet is great for many reasons, but a lot of people do feel alone right now. So I think when we are together in person, we might be demanding a higher quality of connection than in the last few years.
- One of my fundamental beliefs is that everyone is interesting and we're maybe just not asking the right questions. A failure to view everyone as having something says more about you then them.
- Cultivating curiosity makes the world feel bigger and happier and gives me, at least, way more meaning and purpose.
- Sometimes, people just don't want to be visibly earnest. The game can be an excuse to be, and train you more into that mindset.
Overall Thoughts
We're Not Really Strangers is a winner for me, and worth the price. I've now had my set for a little over four years—and expanded it. I've played it lightly and deeply. I've used it with friends I'm both close to and not as close to, and definitely felt more connected and satisfied after. It's provoked good conversations, and it doesn't have a time parameter either. Very take-what-you-need. Sometimes, we've only answered a question or two before segueing into a more natural flow of questions and answers ourselves. It's, in many ways, "a good excuse." And there are definitely answers of mine that have changed over time or only captured a specific moment in time.
One of my 2025 goals is to be more open to others and approach all connection with generosity and a stubborn belief that everyone has the best of intentions.(I do so already, but as I venture out into more vulnerability/trying to keep to myself less, I don't want to get jaded by any failures or hurts.) I absolutely would bring it with me if I end up going on a date at some point. I'm forever trying to listen better and understand more too, and be selfless in trying to be what people need—which is sometimes just someone to talk to. Especially as someone who considers myself deeply curious, the game is just enough of a mediator or crutch to help me get over any weird hurdles to closeness I might default to. It's a game that makes me absolutely love other people.
