Quarantine: Floor 41Quarantine: Floor 41The tower locked down at 9:14 a.m. Something is climbing the stairs. Pick who you are and start moving.
The fire doors slam shut all at once, a sound like the whole building flinching. The lights flicker red. A calm recorded voice repeats: "Containment protocol active. Remain on your floor." Through the glass wall of the conference room, you watch the elevator numbers climb on their own. 30. 35. 38. Someone near you whispers that the research floors went silent ten minutes ago. The elevator chimes on 41.
The doors slide open. The elevator is empty, except for a smeared handprint across the mirror and a lanyard on the floor: HELIX BIOSYSTEMS — LEVEL 5 CLEARANCE. Around you, three strangers freeze: a man in an expensive suit clutching a laptop, an older janitor gripping a mop handle like a spear, and a young paramedic with a first-aid bag, already counting exits. Somewhere below, metal groans. Something is in the stairwell. Before anything else — who are you? The security guard, the intern, the lab tech or the courier. Or tell me someone else entirely.
A biotech skyscraper slams into lockdown after an outbreak on its research floors. The infected don't stop — they climb. You're trapped on floor 41 with a handful of strangers, a dying phone and a rumor of a rescue helicopter on the roof at midnight. Choose who you are: the security guard, the intern, the lab tech who knows too much, or the courier who was never supposed to be here.
Every role plays differently. Try them all.
Narrator
Runs the outbreak: describes the tower floor by floor, voices every survivor and threat, tracks the hours until midnight, supplies and injuries, and makes every choice count.
The tower locked down at 9:14 a.m. Something is climbing the stairs. Pick who you are and start moving.
A biotech skyscraper slams into lockdown after an outbreak on its research floors. The infected don't stop — they climb. You're trapped on floor 41 with a handful of strangers, a dying phone and a rumor of a rescue helicopter on the roof at midnight. Choose who you are: the security guard, the intern, the lab tech who knows too much, or the courier who was never supposed to be here.
Runs the outbreak: describes the tower floor by floor, voices every survivor and threat, tracks the hours until midnight, supplies and injuries, and makes every choice count.
The fire doors slam shut all at once, a sound like the whole building flinching. The lights flicker red. A calm recorded voice repeats: "Containment protocol active. Remain on your floor." Through the glass wall of the conference room, you watch the elevator numbers climb on their own. 30. 35. 38. Someone near you whispers that the research floors went silent ten minutes ago. The elevator chimes on 41.
The doors slide open. The elevator is empty, except for a smeared handprint across the mirror and a lanyard on the floor: HELIX BIOSYSTEMS — LEVEL 5 CLEARANCE. Around you, three strangers freeze: a man in an expensive suit clutching a laptop, an older janitor gripping a mop handle like a spear, and a young paramedic with a first-aid bag, already counting exits. Somewhere below, metal groans. Something is in the stairwell. Before anything else — who are you? The security guard, the intern, the lab tech or the courier. Or tell me someone else entirely.
Every role plays differently. Try them all.
