Crime dinner games enjoy broad popularity across all age groups — as a playful, communal experience packed with suspense, humor, and surprising twists. One writer who delivers particularly distinctive stories is bestselling author Daria Nina: Her interactive dinner mysteries blend dark humor with queer visibility and a break from traditional gender roles.
On August 28, 2025, her tenth game in the acclaimed series “Murder at the Table” appeared. With over 130,000 copies sold, Daria Nina ranks among the most successful German-speaking authors in this genre. Her stories enchant readers with quirky characters, drag queens and kings, neurotic urban dwellers, and supernatural creatures — most recently in a New York City subway and a haunted mansion.
In an interview with TheColu.mn, she discusses why queer visibility is especially close to her heart, shares her own experiences with queerness, and talks about the importance of role models like Lady Gaga. She explains how these influences shape her work — and why her dinner-mystery shows are about more than mere entertainment.
DYARIA, you’ve sold over 130,000 crime dinners and you’re among the most successful German-speaking authors in this genre. How did you come to write crime dinners?
Storytelling has always been central to me. After college, I wrote my first crime novel while friends were building an Amazon business. We joined forces and developed crime dinners — even though I myself had little experience in the format. I analyzed all available games, deliberately sought a twist, and broke away from classic settings like mafia or a mansion. My first game was staged backstage at a pop concert, with quirky characters and a modern structure. That was well received: Our brand “Murder at the Table” comprises ten games, regularly leads the market on Amazon, and is now entering brick-and-mortar retail. Today, other providers have started adopting my structure — which, of course, pleases me.
In your games queer characters appear regularly — what does queer representation in a format that is often regarded as “mainstream entertainment” mean to you?
For me, it’s natural. Queerness is part of my life, and visibility is essential. Of course there is occasional criticism, but the mainstream reaches many households — including those where queer characters might not otherwise appear. Studies show that even sitcoms can reduce prejudice, as viewers form emotional connections. That’s precisely what I want: to break down walls by making characters human and approachable.
You also give drag queens and kings a stage. How do players react — and what was especially important in your portrayal?
My characters are often intentionally extravagant and playfully challenge gender norms. For many, it’s simply fun — but what’s especially thrilling are the moments when players first step into another gender role. Through the game, inhibitions fade, and that alone is a win: when people realize that gender can be creative and fluid as well.
How does your own queer identity influence your work as a writer — in writing, character development, and theme selection?
Even when I don’t write autobiographically, my life world always flows into my work. Experiences, knowledge, and perspectives shape characters and plots. I don’t see the world through a heteronormative lens, so queer themes appear quite naturally. Not every character has to be queer, but my storytelling is influenced by this lens.
Are there queer stories or perspectives in crime fiction that you have missed so far — and that you intentionally bring in?
For my new series featuring a queer lead, I’m currently researching female investigators. It’s striking how often they are depicted as either overly feminine or strongly masculine — rarely allowed to simply be themselves. The same goes for queer characters: they’re often reduced to their sexuality or reduced to clichés. An editor once told me in a meeting that young queers today have no problems. That shows how crucial genuine representation is. Of course we love clichés, and I use them too — but my standard is to write authentic characters, not mere stock figures.
You were born in Moscow, grew up in the Upper Palatinate, and now live in Munich. How has this journey shaped your understanding of queerness and community?
I knew early on that I was different—but I had no words or role models. I only knew that the series “Xena” spoke to me on a deep level. In the Soviet Union and in a Bavarian village, there was no queer visibility. The internet brought insights. In Munich in the early 2000s, I initially found it hard to access the lesbian scene, which felt too categorized, and I felt more at home in gay clubs. Even today I rarely think in boxes like Butch/Femme or Top/Bottom. Exclusions within the community — such as bi-erasure or transphobia — confuse me. My coming out wasn’t linear; I started out with relationships with men. Today I identify as lesbian, but I don’t adhere to a rigid label. Categories can provide support, but they can also exclude. I found my own queer community inside my circle of friends.
Many of your characters are quirky, vulnerable, sometimes radical. What draws you to these personalities — and does that carry a queer view of society?
I’m interested in the truth behind the façade. Most people are, in their own way, quirky and vulnerable — my characters reflect this radical authenticity. The perspective is also queer: recognizing that social norms are constructs reveals deeper layers. Add my migration history, the feeling of always being “the new one,” and my ethnology studies that taught me to view the world from different angles. It’s precisely in those contradictions that I find the most compelling stories.
You’re working on a podcast and screenplays with queer themes. What can you share — and what do you want to tell that has received too little space?
I want to encourage people to find their own path to self-efficacy — beyond the narrative that “you can achieve everything” and that ignores unequal starting points. It’s about showing that just because a traditional path doesn’t work out doesn’t mean life ends. Sometimes many roads lead to Rome, and other times you realize halfway that you want Paris — and that’s okay. In the podcast, I talk with people who don’t have straight-line success stories — myself included, as I completed my high school diploma on my own in my late twenties. With Mona Maijs of @rosa.schichten I write screenplays that showcase queer perspectives with complex, resonant characters. My crime novels are also meant to bring a queer investigator into the mainstream.
What is your experience of the queer scene in Munich — and are there places or people who particularly inspire you?
The scene is evolving. There isn’t a strictly lesbian club, but there are creative formats like LEZ and the Lost Girls parties. A crowdfunding campaign for a new bar was successful. Networking through Meet-Up and WhatsApp groups makes it easier to find like-minded people — whether for sports, culture, or conversation. The community today feels more proactive and diverse than before.
What would you say to queer people who want to work creatively — especially in an industry that isn’t always open to different perspectives?
Trust your voice and have the courage to follow it. Lady Gaga helped me channel creative energy by showing how powerful it is to stand by your vision and celebrate being “weird” instead of hiding it. Practically: build a network across fields. I’ve met artist Anna Urazova — today we inspire each other. Cross-disciplinary exchange is incredibly enriching.
