Behind the Hydra's Eyes

202x, England. Forward Green, an entirely unsuspicious NGO, has started a new project: Lagoon Breeze. And guess who's lucky enough to get to manage this exciting new development? That's right: you.

Your responsibilities are simple:

• Oversee the construction: Do whatever it takes to get these turbines turning: finalize a site, manage marketing, navigate public relations, handle complaints...not that there will be many of those, I'm sure.
• Manage your team: A happy workforce is a happy profit margin! That's why we've implemented our Green Office initiative—engage enthusiastically to boost morale. Please note participation is mandatory.
• Please your boss: Tell flatteries, lies, and half-truths, or even, if you're particularly unwise, attempt honesty. When the tendrils close in around you, what sort of person will you prove to be?
• Pay your bills: That's what this is all for, after all, isn't it Dave? The chatter of the commute, the tedium of the office, the thrum of your fan in your tiny flat as you toss and turn. Today's bills are paid, but tomorrow's?

So, are you ready to make an impact?

But something isn't right. The voices of the lagoon whisper through your monitor, faraway tongues speaking doom. Bitter words leak from the cracks in the project like so much black oil and drip like cursed rain upon once-fertile land. But don't fear, a whisper can be covered by a catchy jingle, and a crack by so many posters.