Beholder

Welcome to Krushvice 6, where the walls have ears, and they’re yours. In Beholder, you’re Carl Stein, the freshly minted landlord of a drab apartment block in a nameless, not‑so‑free country. The State didn’t give you the job for your charming personality. No, they want you to spy, on everyone.

Your tenants aren’t just names on a rent ledger. They’re potential threats to the regime, and it’s your job to find out which ones deserve the knock on the door at midnight. Install hidden cameras in their smoke detectors, peek through keyholes, or go full burglar while they’re out shopping. Every scrap of intel can be reported for cash, tucked away for blackmail, or ignored if your conscience gets in the way.

And that’s the thing, Beholder is less about what you can do than what you should. Turn in the widowed father reading banned books, and his kids go to an orphanage. Let it slide, and you might have just signed your own arrest order.

The building itself becomes your stage for moral theater. Tenants come and go, events spiral out of control, and the smallest missed detail, like ignoring a ringing phone, can lead to your entire block going up in smoke. Sometimes literally. The game’s grim shadow‑puppet art style and sharp character routines make it easy to tell who’s who, even when the pressure’s on.

It’s part Papers, Please, part voyeur simulator, and part “oh no, did I just doom that nice old lady?” You’ll juggle State loyalty, your family’s survival, and the temptation to play puppet‑master. The question isn’t whether you’ll get your hands dirty, it’s whether you’ll still recognize them when the credits roll.