Not Tonight Check IDs, survive a dark Britain

The job is simple on paper: stand at the door, let the right people in, turn the wrong ones away. Each venue sets its own rules. One pub bans French citizens, another turns away anyone in beachwear, and the checks stack up as the days go on: expired documents, fake IDs, photo mismatches, guestlists, dress codes, contraband. Queues pile up on both sides and the clock keeps moving. There is a minimum number of guests to admit before you get paid at all, and bonus targets above that if your eyes are fast enough. Mistakes bring warnings, then fines, then the sack. It starts easy and gets tight, and the pressure of juggling four documents and two queues at once is where the game gets its grip.

Every shift dangles a shortcut. Someone slips you a bribe to ignore the rules; a punter offers a tip to be waved in; there is always something you could sell from your pocket for extra cash. Take the money and your social credit score starts to slide, and informants exist. Play it straight and the pay is thinner while rent, bills and your health all want feeding. Meanwhile the resistance finds you: cryptic letters to decipher, missions you can accept or ignore, and a regime you can quietly work against or leave well alone. Where you land on that line shapes how your roughly three months in Relocation Block B end, and the game has multiple endings to prove it.