How To Apply For The Traitors

So you want to be a Traitor? Or maybe a Faithful? You’ve watched the show. You’ve screamed at your TV. You’ve definitely decided you’d be a better liar than anyone in the castle. Now, you want in. Good news: it’s actually possible. Bad news: it’s weirdly specific. Let’s break it down.

The First Step: Forget Your Resume

The producers don’t care if you’re a CEO. They don’t care if you won a spelling bee in 1998. They want personality—and preferably the messy kind. They want people who will cry, yell, or scheme at a roundtable. If you’re boring at dinner parties, this isn’t for you.

They look for contrasting types. Think: a conspiracy theorist, a retired spy, a drag queen, and a grumpy grandpa. The weirder the mix, the better the TV. You need to fit into a cartoon version of reality.

Where Do You Even Apply?

Don’t send a carrier pigeon. Go to the official casting website for your country. In the US, it’s usually a link buried in a Peacock press release. In the UK, it’s on the BBC website under “Casting Call.” Look for “The Traitors” specifically—not “The Mole,” not “Big Brother.” Different show, different vibe.

You’ll find a simple application form. It’s short. It’s deceptive. They ask for your name, age, and a photo. But the real test is the video submission. That’s where you shine—or crash.

The Video: Your Five Minutes of Fame (or Shame)

This is the most important part. Forget professional lighting. Forget a fancy backdrop. Producers want raw you. Film it on your phone. Film it in your kitchen. Talk directly to the camera like you’re confessing a secret. Do not read from a script. It’ll look fake.

Tell them your wildest story. Did you once fake a British accent to get a free meal? Did you accidentally start a fight at a wedding? They want evidence you can lie—or catch a lie. Show them your poker face. Or your “I’m shocked!” face.

Here’s a pro tip: talk about your biggest betrayal. Not a traumatic one. A funny one. Like the time you told your sibling their birthday gift was coming, but you forgot to buy it. That’s gold. They eat up relatable scheming.

Quirky Facts That Help Your Chances

Did you know accent affects everything? The show loves a regional twang. A strong Scottish brogue? Automatic intrigue. A flat Midwestern accent? Less exciting. Sorry, Ohio.

Fame helps. Being a former reality star? Even better. The show loves casting an “ex” from another competition. They want someone who knows cameras exist. But if you’re a total nobody, that’s fine. You can be the “mysterious unknown.”

Hobbies matter. List them. If you say “competitive axe throwing” or “amateur magician,” they perk up. If you say “reading books,” you’ll be eliminated before the first email. Dare to be weird.

The Online Questionnaire: A Personality Minefield

After the video, you’ll get a longer form. It’s full of weird questions. They’ll ask: “If you were an animal on a mission, which animal would you be?” Don’t say “lion.” That’s boring. Say “a honey badger that occasionally forgets why it’s angry.” That’s memorable.

Another question: “Describe a time you manipulated someone.” Be honest. Don’t pretend you’re a saint. Say you convinced your friend to watch a terrible movie by calling it “critically underrated.” That’s tiny, but it’s juicy. The producers collect these stories. They build a psychological profile of you.

The Long Silence (And How to Survive It)

After you click “submit,” you’ll hear nothing for weeks. Maybe months. That’s normal. They get thousands of applications. They watch every video while eating cereal. If they like you, they call you for a Zoom interview. It’s casual. They ask you to tell a joke or react to a fake betrayal scenario.

If you get to the second round, they check your social media. They look for red flags—like racism or excessive complaining. They also look for green flags—like you having a weird Instagram account about collecting rubber ducks. Consistency matters.

The Final Hurdle: The In-Person Test

This is the secret layer. Some shows drag you to a hotel with other applicants. You play a mini-version of the game. It’s a chemistry test. They watch you gossip over bad coffee. They watch you form alliances. If you sulk in a corner, you’re out. If you charm someone into trading their muffin, you’re a candidate.

They’re looking for nerves. Not the bad kind. The kind that makes you sweat a little. They want you to feel the pressure. A calm person is boring. A slightly frantic person is TV gold.

Why You Should Totally Do This

Even if you don’t get on, the audition is fun. It’s a chance to think about your own personality. Are you a Faithful? Are you a secret liar? The application process is a mirror. You might discover you’re too honest. Or that you have a hidden talent for deception.

The show is pure chaos. It’s rich people in capes accusing each other of treason. You could be one of them. You could wear a cape. You could get banished and cry on national TV. That’s a story for your grandkids.

So go find that form. Dust off your phone. Tell the camera your weirdest secret. The worst they can say is no. The best? You get to walk into a castle and point a finger at a friend. Game on.