Sell the night
Hold your rate against a low quote, or fold and teach the market that your prices are soft.
Twelve turns decide whether the fall calendar fills without breaking the crew or betting wrong on the weather.

What you are actually selling is not a movie. It is the few hours an ordinary shared space stops being a place people walk through.
Apartment communities book Fridays and Saturdays; breweries, congregations, schools, nonprofits, and campuses fill the weeknights. The people on the other side of those calls become the recurring cast.
The niche value is operating detail: event production, neighborhood gathering, weather judgment, and a small service business colliding in the same calendar.
The specificity is structural: it changes what the player can do, what each choice costs, and what the ending remembers.
Hold your rate against a low quote, or fold and teach the market that your prices are soft.
Three crews cover about twenty-one shows; vans and screens define how much calendar you can sell.
At 5:40pm a cell is forty miles out and two hundred chairs are filling. Choose with imperfect weather.
Each turn is a two-week stretch with two moves plus a posture: hunt bigger deals, build the crew, coast to recover, or spend money being seen.
Oversell your people and the season starts breaking—double-booked nights, a transmission at 190,000 miles, or a host whose phone goes to voicemail before doors.


No. The operating facts arrive inside the decisions, not as a manual before play.
Yes, gently. A lean season stings and teaches; every run reaches its calendar.
Nothing beyond a browser. It saves nothing, asks for no permissions, and honors reduced-motion settings.
When the booking window opens, the relationships, crew, and nights you built are visible on one calendar. Four seasons are possible.
This game demonstrates the studio’s central claim: a real place, practice, community, or text contains better game mechanics than a broad theme pasted on later.
Follow the mechanics into another place, practice, memory, or shared text.
The playable build is free. If this makes you think of a world only your people would recognize, that may be the next game.