I’m sitting at a lunch table, inside my friend's apartment, surrounded by ten people — a mix of old friends and new faces.

The host is warm and endlessly enthusiastic, and it’s clear it matters to him that everyone feels comfortable.

He claps his hands and says, “Let’s play an ice breaker! Two truths and a lie.”

And immediately, I cringe.

It’s not that I hate icebreakers, or even forced introductions. 

I just hate cheesy games that skim the surface of who we are — quick facts that sound like personality, but aren’t.

We go around the table trading random facts like baseball cards, and at the end, everyone knows something but remembers nothing.

Still, the game begins.

The host starts off leading by example.
Then Ben, the first official player, starts…

 “I’m a glass blower…I’ve ski’d the biggest mountain in Europe.”
And finishes with “I’m married….” 

“Glassblower sounds too cool to be true,” I say.

Wrong. He actually is.
Kind of unique, kind of memorable.
Maybe this round will be different.

The game moves around the table, but each turn blurs into the next — hobbies, pets, half-truths, lies.

By the time it finally gets to me, I can’t help myself.

“I think this game is a terrible way to get to know people,” I say, smiling.

A few chuckles. A few nervous looks.

“It’s fun, sure. But nobody’s going to remember what anyone said ten minutes from now.” I raise my glass and nod toward the group, “Prove me wrong.”

A woman at the far end jumps in, confident. 

“I remember!” she says proudly.

“Okay,” I grin. “Tell us.”

She points across the table. 

“He’s a glassblower!”

“That’s right,” Ben says. 

She smirks.

“Way to go for the low-hanging fruit,” I say, teasing. “That one actually was unique, which is probably why we all remember it.”

Then she points to a woman beside her, “She loves snowboarding.”

The woman shakes her head. “That was my lie!”

The room erupts in laughter.

And in that moment, my point makes itself. 

Two Truths, One Lie, and Zero Connection

If we can’t even remember what was said a few minutes ago, how meaningful can it really be?

If you want people to remember you — or remember each other — tell a story instead. Something small. Personal. Human.

Stories turn awkward icebreakers into real connections. 

They make people lean in instead of guessing.

They create emotion — laughter, surprise, empathy — and that’s what makes someone unforgettable.

By this point, the room’s on my side. Everyone’s nodding, laughing, realizing the truth in it.

So I raise my glass again and say, “If you’re going to play icebreakers, at least make them about stories.”

When it comes to introductions, you don’t need clever lines or guessing games —just a story worth remembering.

Try This Instead

Here are a few story-based prompts that actually help people connect:

1. Tell us about a time you felt out of your comfort zone.
   These stories reveal courage, humor, and humanity in equal measure.
   
   
2. What’s something that looked like a mistake but turned out great?
   Instant vulnerability, often with laughter built in.
   
   
3. What’s something small that always makes you smile?
   Ordinary details create surprisingly strong connections.
   
   
4. Who’s someone who changed the way you see yourself?
   This one never fails to spark real conversation

Try a Storytelling Game

If you want something fun and meaningful, try storyteller and Storyworthy author Matthew Dicks’s storytelling game: First, Last, Best, Worst. Pick a topic — job, date, concert, meal — and share your first, last, best, or worst experience of it.

It’s simple, yet it never fails to spark stories that are both funny and memorable.

We actually teach this method — along with many other strategies, such as Homework for Life, one of the most powerful ways to find stories in everyday life — inside our Storyworthy Moments course.

Great stories aren’t about big events.
They’re small, human moments, the kind that make people say,

“I’ll remember that.”

You don’t need a dramatic life to have great stories.

You just need to notice the small ones that make you who you are.

Author: Lionel Kalles
Storyteller · Coach · Marketing Consultant

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