The sea took Nayabandar in ninety minutes. Fourteen months later, you are holed up in a rotting customs house on the Bund with two strangers, one barricaded window, and ninety days until the monsoon finishes the job.

THE TIDE WRITES THE RULES
A fourteen-day tidal clock dictates your survival. High tide drowns the streets, funneling the horrors through a single submerged entryway. Low tide exposes the mudflats, ripping open four approaches simultaneously. You can see the whole cycle charted on the wall—and you will never have enough hands to cover the gaps.

EVERY SUNRISE IS A ZERO-SUM CHOICE
Three survivors. Three vital tasks: fortify the house, scavenge the drowned ruins, or stand watch. You can only ever pick two. Fresh water vanishes fastest, and the sea outside is poison—forcing you to burn precious structural timber just to boil brine into drinkable steam.

THE SODDEN ARE NOT CORPSES
They walked these markets three months ago. Their lungs are waterlogged, but their pulses still kick. Sunlight and dry air scald their split skin, so they drag themselves from the dark water only after sundown. Every blow landed in the dark is dealt to someone whose name you might still remember.

HALLWAY-ROW TACTICAL COMBAT
When timber snaps and the barricade fails, combat shifts to claustrophobic corridor defense. Position your team across front and back ranks, balancing reach, knockback, and tactical cooldowns. A breach isn’t game over—whoever can still stand takes up tools for a desperate, turn-based last stand.

FIVE FACTIONS ON ROTTING PILINGS
The Harbourmasters catalog survivors like salvage. The Ferrymen trade with anyone whose coin isn't wet. The Salt Choir sleep beside the Sodden and wake up breathing—and their quiet faith isn't an act. Buy loyalty from one, and the other four will make sure your next low tide is your last.

Dozens of Interlocking Story Beats shaped by tidal shifts and moral collapse.
Persistent Hallway Defense where physical injuries and structural rot carry over.
Five Distinct Endings. No clean escapes. No righteous path. Just the tide.