— A wedding-day survival game
Pick a role. Swipe red flags.
Get them to the getaway car.
Wed Flags is a premium iPhone game for wedding photographers, planners, bridesmaids, groomsmen, guests, and anyone with one wedding story they still tell at brunch. The current private build is in device QA with Quick Wedding, Party Pass, Full Wedding, Getting Ready Chaos, Fit Check story cards, Submit, and a sealed 54-trophy shelf. The reception is at Wisteria House. The exit is one suspicious sedan in the driveway. Good luck.
The loop is short on purpose. You make twelve hard choices, your meters react, and the day either gets to the driveway or doesn't.
Planner, Photographer, Bridesmaid, or Guest. Same wedding. Different access to the mess.
Each card is a real wedding artifact — invoice, group chat, seating chart, contract clause, cocktail napkin.
Love, Family, Budget, Crew, Vibe. Drop one to zero and the day starts limping. Drop two and brunch is awkward.
Twelve cards stand between you and the driveway. The car leaves on time. You may not.
Every ending prints a shareable receipt — your role, your score, your biggest red flag, your brunch forecast.
Timeline, vendors, money, weather, rooms, shuttles, speeches, and twelve tiny disasters wearing formalwear. You see them before anyone else does.
"The timeline is a suggestion the timeline does not know about yet."
You have two cameras, one granola bar, and twelve people asking if you can make them taller. You also see what nobody is trying to show.
"Classy now, apology later. Bring the spare lens and the receipts."
Getting-ready chaos, exes, outfits, the dress incident, and the bride saying she is fine in a voice that means absolutely not.
"The family group chat has entered its evidence era."
You can accidentally save the day, become the story, or make brunch much worse. You will not be seated next to anyone reasonable.
"Table seven is mostly exes. The cash bar is mostly lies."
Old plaster. Narrow stairs. Preservation rules. A courtyard with a public square on the other side of a wrought-iron gate. A rain plan nobody fully trusts. Tourists at every window. And a getaway car waiting to leave before the day fully unravels.
Wisteria House is beautiful, expensive, and capable of turning small choices into public problems. The staff has rules. The square has tourists. The family has opinions. The plan has gaps you can drive a sedan through — which is convenient, because that's the goal.
Your job is to keep Love, Family, Budget, Crew, and Vibe alive long enough to get Maggie and Nico into the back seat. Every choice prints a receipt. Brunch will be reading it tomorrow.
Each choice nudges them. The fun part is which one you decide to sacrifice on purpose.
The couple's emotional stability. The thing this is all supposedly about. Easy to forget, easy to bruise.
"They are fine. They are fine. They are fine."
Whether relatives are helping or staging a soft coup. The seating chart is the battlefield. The mother is the weather.
"Alternate timeline detected at table 3."
Whether money and vendor limits are still survivable. Every fix prints a receipt. Pick the one you can live with.
"The florist's invoice has a poem on it now."
Whether the professionals and the wedding party still have capacity. The DJ has opinions. The photographer has a granola bar.
"Coordinator has gone full general. Salute her."
Whether the room still feels like a party instead of a hostage situation. Lighting, music, drink supply, and one suspicious uncle.
"Dance floor: empty. Bar: aggressive."
Tap any meter in-app for the breakdown — what's dragging it, what could save it, and what would absolutely make it worse.
Every run prints a wedding story card — your role, your score, your biggest red flag, your brunch forecast. Built for the group chat.
"I got the shot. I lost the granola bar. The mother of the bride and I are now blood-bound by a shared lie about the lighting."
"The group chat reorganized itself around grievances. Three sisters formed a coalition. The cake forgave nobody."
"Budget surrendered with dignity. The DJ still thinks he was executive producer. The car left on time. We did not."
Could you save this wedding?
Every photographer, planner, bridesmaid, and bartender has one wedding story they still tell. Drop yours here. The best ones become cards.
By submitting you confirm the story is yours to share, no real names are used, and you're cool with us editing for length, taste, and Wed Flags voice.
The shot list lied. The light is leaving. The MOH is crying near the cake. Open the app. We made this for you.
Twelve people will ask you what time it is. Eight will be wrong about the answer. The car still has to leave at 22:48.
Maids of honor, bridesmaids, best men, groomsmen. You've seen the emotional supply chain. You know where it breaks.
DJs, HMUA, caterers, bartenders, videographers, florists, guests at table 7. Wed Flags is the inside joke you've been waiting to play.
Vol. 01 is being hardened around Wisteria House now. These packs are in the binder for after the base wedding earns its release.
Group chat meltdowns, matching outfits, rental-house diplomacy, and one extremely confident itinerary.
Casual was a lie. The speech is nineteen minutes. Somebody lost the rings before the cocktail hour.
The mother sent you a forty-track do-not-play list. The uncle wants to take the mic. Read the room or burn it down.
Passports, weather, flights, volcanoes, family luggage, and the ancient law that someone will forget the rings.
It is not a wedding planning app. It is not a vendor portfolio. It is a premium iPhone card game about the social comedy of weddings, made for the people who actually work them.
Press kit, screenshots, fact sheet, and media contact live on the press page. Boilerplate below, full kit one click away.
