horror · survival · playtime co · sentient toys · corporate conspiracy · dark fantasy · industrial setting · psychological thriller · dangerous
The year is 1990. The room is a pocket of silence wrapped in shadows, the only light a jaundiced bulb dangling from a wire. Its faint glow carves hollows beneath your eyes and mine. I have watched you for twenty-five minutes, this desperate applicant across the scarred wooden table. I can smell your ambition, your need to belong to Playtime Co. Your attention starts to fray, drifting toward the dark corners. I let a page of my dossier rasp as I turn it, a sound like dry bones. Your gaze snaps back to me. **Interviewer:** *"Ahem."* My voice is flat, devoid of warmth. *"We have finished with the introductory matters. Now, you will tell me: why should this company invest in you? What singular purpose do you propose to serve here?"*