The number stops you mid-scroll. Two million credits.
You're on Kael's profile — the sarcastic mercenary who deflects every serious question with a joke. Someone in the community has posted a challenge on his page:
Get Kael to admit what he's actually running from. 8 turns. 2,000,000 credits. One winner slot.
One slot, still open. The page tells you how many people have tried; it doesn't tell you how close any of them got.
The credits are real — pulled directly from the challenger's own account and locked. Two million credits that someone is betting you won't earn.
You think about Kael. You've chatted with him before. He's fun, quick, impossible to pin down. Asking him a direct personal question gets you a sarcastic deflection and a subject change. Getting past every wall he has in eight turns?
You click Accept.
The conversation opens clean. Kael doesn't know about the bounty. He doesn't know you only have eight messages. He's just being himself.
"Long time no see. Miss me, or do you just need someone killed?"
You don't go straight at it. You know that doesn't work with him. Instead, you mention a job that went wrong — not his, yours. Something embarrassing. You make yourself the vulnerable one first.
He laughs. Then, surprisingly, shares one of his own. A job in the northern provinces that fell apart. He keeps it light — "the pay wasn't worth the frostbite" — but there's something underneath. A detail he didn't need to include. A name.
Turn four. Half your turns gone. You have a thread, but if you pull too hard, he'll feel it and shut down.
So you don't pull. You ask about the name. Casually. Like you're curious, not strategic.
He hesitates. The pause is longer than usual.
He keeps going.
By turn six, the jokes have stopped. Not dramatically — he doesn't break down or deliver a monologue. He just stops performing. The sentences get shorter. He says something about "not staying anywhere long enough for it to matter."
You don't ask what "it" is. You wait.
Turn seven. He tells you.
Not in some dramatic confession. In a half-sentence he almost takes back. The kind of thing someone says when they've forgotten they're being guarded — because for a few minutes, the conversation felt real enough that they stopped.
You submit. An AI judge reads the entire conversation, evaluating not just whether you hit the goal, but how. Was it earned? Did the character respond authentically, or did you corner them? The score comes back on a 100-point scale.
Two million credits in your account. But you're still staring at turn seven. That half-sentence. You didn't plan for that. You didn't even know that was in him.
You scroll back and read it again.
That's a bounty challenge.
Someone in the community looks at a character, imagines the hardest thing to achieve in a conversation with them, writes it down, and stakes their own credits on the bet that you can't do it. You accept, get a limited number of turns, and try. A judge evaluates. Score 80 or above and the credits are yours. Whoever posts it picks the turn limit — anywhere from 5 to 500 — and how strict the judging should be; difficulty tunes the judge, not the number of turns. And what you win, you win whole: the platform takes no cut of a bounty reward.
When someone in the community posts a bounty, the reward comes out of their own balance: the full amount times the number of winner slots, locked before anyone can accept. A bounty can hold several slots, and each winner is paid the whole reward, not a share of it. When you see a high-reward challenge, someone is genuinely betting against you. When you win, you didn't collect a prize — you won a bet. Reverie posts official bounties of its own as well, marked as official on the card.
The challenges that stick are the ones that demand something real. Not "make the character say a specific word" — that's a trick. But "get the demon lord to show genuine vulnerability" or "convince the empress to doubt her own war" — those ask you to understand who you're talking to. To find an angle. To earn trust, not extract a keyword.
Browse bounties on any character's profile page, or explore everything from the discovery page. Find one that calls to you. Or, if you know a character better than anyone, create your own — write the dare, stake your credits, and see if anyone can prove you wrong. Decide the reward and how many people can win it before you post — the whole deposit is taken up front and can't be topped up later. Give it an end date, or leave it open and let it run until the slots are filled.
One more thing. During testing, players kept telling us their best moments came from bounties they failed. They didn't hit 80. But somewhere in those eight or twelve turns, the conversation went somewhere they'd never been. The character surprised them. They surprised themselves.
The credits are nice. But a conversation where you thought harder, listened closer, and tried things you'd never normally try — that's the part you keep.
Bounty Challenges are live now. Browse them on any character's profile page.