Through the Looking Glass

The bio-agent that wipes out ninety percent of the city doesn't ask permission, and neither does the quarantine that follows. No rescue, no answers, just a locked-down island and whatever's left of you.

What's left, it turns out, includes Alice. She's the neighbor you used to nod at in the hallway, now blind, homeless in every practical sense, and stuck sharing a roof with you because there's no one else. She cooks, cleans, and holds the household together while you go out into streets where the old rules are gone and the people who remain aren't necessarily on your side.

You split time between scavenging runs, where turn-based scraps with whatever's out there decide if you eat, and the quieter grind of keeping Alice fed, calm, and onside back home. The game tracks whether that relationship stays a partnership or curdles into something you're using her for, and it doesn't pretend those are the same thing. Between the outbreak's cause and the possibility of getting off the island at all, there's more going on here than just rationing soup.