Look around whatever room you are in. A stapler, a coaster, a phone charger, a wooden spoon. You could name every object in seconds, yet you almost never stop to ask how you know - what bundle of plain, boring facts separates a kettle from a candle, a fork from a fan.
Objectivity lives in that gap. There is one hidden household object, the kind of thing anyone owns, and the whole game is the quiet claim that enough yes-or-no facts will corner it. Is it bigger than a toaster? Does it hold water? Would you find it in a bathroom? None of these settle it alone. Together they close in.
It plays like twenty questions turned inside out. You never think up the questions - twenty-five of them already sit face-down on the board. The skill is not in what to ask but in knowing when to stop asking and commit.