Beholder Spy on your tenants, spare or betray

Your day job looks harmless: keep the building running, greet tenants, collect rent. The real work starts when everyone leaves for their assigned jobs. You hold every key in the house, so you slip into apartments, plant listening devices, and go through drawers and diaries for anything that threatens the State. Then you profile the residents and file reports on anyone capable of breaking the laws. The building has its own rhythm: tenants follow daily routines, and watching them long enough tells you when a room will be empty. It is quiet, methodical work, and it feels exactly as unpleasant as it should.

You are a cog in the machine, but a cog with a wife and children who need food, medicine and rent money, and the State pays poorly while fining you for the smallest slip. So the pressure builds from both sides. Report a father and orphan his children, keep quiet and risk your own neck, or blackmail him for cash your family needs. Nearly every task comes with a timer, and money is always short. Your decisions steer the story toward one of several endings, and the one you get is the one you earned. Expect to come back: a second run can go loyalist, rebel, or pure survival, and it plays out differently.