The Genius Game

I’m no stranger to a good social deduction game. Whether it’s The Circle, The Fortune Hotel, or even Tom Scott’s indie gem Money, there’s something uniquely satisfying about watching people try to outthink, out-bluff, and outlast each other in high-concept challenges. It’s not just about strategy. It’s about trust. Misdirection. Reading between the lines. The thrill lies in seeing someone spot the truth hidden behind a smile or leverage a tiny detail into a major win. It’s a genre that’s quietly grown into a television staple, and one I’ll always tune in for. So when ITV launched The Genius Game, a British adaptation of a hugely popular Korean format, I was excited.

On paper, it’s everything I love about these shows dialled up a notch, fundamental mental gymnastics, complex alliances, and challenges designed to reward brains over bravado. It’s not a show for chancers. It’s a show for thinkers.

And yet, despite the promising premise, The Genius Game has struggled to find its audience. Quiet ratings. Muted buzz. A sense that the show never quite clicked. And honestly, that’s a shame, because there’s so much potential in this format, even if the current version doesn’t always do it justice.

High Concept, Narrow Casting

At its core, The Genius Game is built around one tantalising idea: what if we took the smartest people in the country, threw them into a strategic pressure cooker, and let them battle it out across a series of mind-bending games?

It sounds like a BBC Two hit in the making, something that could sit comfortably between Only Connect and University Challenge, with just a hint of The Traitors for good measure. And yet, one of the first things you notice is the casting. While it’s billed as a battle between academics and intellectuals, a significant number of the contestants come from poker backgrounds.

Now, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Poker players are, after all, trained in probability, deception, and reading people, all skills that make for compelling gameplay. But it also hints at a narrow recruitment process. Instead of a broad cross-section of thinkers, we’re getting a very specific slice of the intellectual world. It feels like the producers went looking for people who already knew how to play the game, rather than people who might learn on the job.

To be fair, that’s not unusual for a first season. Look at early The Great British Bake Off or Love Island: the first series of any show is as much about proving the concept as it is about perfect casting. The applicant pool naturally expands once viewers and potential contestants see what the show is and how it works. But the problem is that The Genius Game might not get that second chance.

Scheduling Slip-ups and the Invisible Host

Part of the issue lies in how the show was positioned. The Genius Game originally aired twice a week on ITV and ITVX, a bold move that quickly faltered, with the show soon reduced to a single weekly episode on Wednesdays. The scheduling suggests ITV had high hopes, but the shift hints at something more sobering: a drop-off in engagement, or perhaps confusion about where the show fits.

The 21:00 BST slot feels mismatched. This isn’t a high-drama reality format like Love Island. It’s slower. More cerebral. You need to lean in, not switch off. It might have fared better at 20:00 BST, or even on a different channel entirely. BBC Two springs to mind, a space that’s long been home to thoughtful, slightly offbeat quiz and game shows.

Then there’s the issue of David Tennant. He was a significant part of the show’s marketing push, so much so that he’s billed as The Creator, a title loaded with intrigue. You expect him to be the glue holding the show together: the host, the guide, the wildcard element that sets the tone.

Instead, he’s largely absent. Tennant appears via pre-recorded video to introduce challenges, and his voice pops up occasionally to announce winners, losers, and other gameplay logistics. But he never appears alongside the contestants. He doesn’t engage with them, offer commentary, or shape the gameplay in any visible way.

It’s a strange choice. Tennant is charismatic, playful, and smart, which is everything this show should be. Compare that to Claudia Winkleman in The Traitors, whose mix of mischief and menace is central to the show’s vibe. Or even Richard O’Brien back in The Crystal Maze days, breaking the fourth wall to explain rooms and rib contestants. Here, Tennant feels like a pre-programmed narrator. Not a presence, but a prompt.

Ironically, the show does have on-screen helpers, Dealers, who facilitate each challenge. They’re dressed in backstage blacks and move the game along as and when. It’s a cool visual, but also a missed opportunity. Why not have Tennant take on that role? Let him be the eccentric ringmaster. Let him inject personality into the puzzle. As it stands, the show has style, but not enough soul.

Garnets, Games, and Missed Mechanics

As with the original Korean Genius Game, garnets are a big part of the format. They’re essentially currency: tokens that players collect, trade, and gamble with. In the UK version, each garnet is worth £1,000, and they’re awarded or transferred based on performance in challenges.

In theory, it’s a brilliant mechanic. It gives players something tangible to fight for, and more importantly, lose. But in practice, the garnets don’t hold much weight. Beyond the early episodes, they barely influence the game. Players choose not to use them to bribe, unless in the instance of picking certain players for head-to-head eliminators, and haven’t been used in the main games since very early on in the series. As a result, they become heavy paperweights for the contestant.

Compare that with Money, the excellent YouTube game show hosted by Tom Scott. In that format, players deal in both cash and tokens, one can be spent, the other can’t. It creates a fascinating tension between strategy and trust. Money is, well, about money. The Genius Game is about… what, exactly? Pride? Honour? It’s a format that could be so much sharper if it leaned into its own stakes.

That said, there are flickers of brilliance. The Zombie Game in episode two is a standout, a chaotic, clever scenario that rewards hoarding, scheming, and timing. More of that, please.

The Players Who Make It Worth Watching

Despite all this, there’s something undeniably watchable about The Genius Game. And that’s down to the contestants.

Ken Cheng and Charlotte Yeung form an endearing friendship with genuine warmth, despite often playing on opposing teams during the games. Kindness, but tactical respect. Dr Kishan Bodalia, meanwhile, brings a cool-headed logic to every challenge, weighing up decisions with quiet precision.

And yes, there are villains too. Every show needs them. But here, their undoing is often poetic. This is a format that punishes selfishness and rewards collaboration, and watching the edit gradually tilt against the more amoral players is its own kind of thrill.

Final Thoughts

The Genius Game might not have landed as ITV hoped, but that doesn’t mean it’s a lost cause. There’s a genuinely clever format here, one with international success, fascinating mechanics, and a clear appetite among viewers who want something a little smarter.

What it needs is a reframe. A better host dynamic. A network that understands the audience it’s aiming for. A tighter grip on the gameplay’s stakes. Because beneath the current execution, there’s a brilliant show waiting to be uncovered.

The Genius Game continues on ITV each Wednesday, with previous episodes available to watch now via ITVX.