You've been searching for work for months. Rejection after rejection. This job — security guard at a local school — isn't exactly a dream career. But your mother needs surgery, the bills are piling up, and this is the only place that called back. You're taking this job. No matter what happens.

Every morning begins the same way — keys in hand, eyes on the clock. Your job is to open the school gates before the bus arrives, letting students through for scanning and inspection.

Simple? Sure. But show up late, and the principal won't be happy. Your performance rating takes a hit. Your paycheck shrinks. Do it too many times, and you might not have a job at all.

Find your keys. Open the gate. Start the day right.

Before anyone steps inside, they go through you. Select your metal detector from the inventory and scan each student as they enter.

Some kids are clean. Others? Not so much. Your detector picks up anything suspicious — forbidden items hidden in bags, pockets, wherever they think you won't look.

You'll find things that have no place in a school. And when you do, you decide: confiscate it, send them home, or let it slide. Every choice has consequences.

When your detector hits on something, you take it. No negotiation. The contraband is yours now.

But the student? That's your call. Let them continue to class and hope they learned their lesson. Send them back to the bus to go home. Or toss them out the gate yourself — the hard way.

Every student is tracked in your attendance book. Mark who arrived, who's absent, who got denied entry. You can check them off one by one, or process the whole line at once if you're in a hurry.

Just remember: every choice you make gets noticed.

Every good guard needs backup — yours has four legs and sharp teeth.

Your guard dog is the real security around here, but loyalty doesn't run on empty. When they're hungry, you'll know — listen for the barking or watch for the notification on screen.

Food doesn't appear out of nowhere. Head to the shop, order supplies, and wait for the delivery. When the cardboard box arrives, grab what you need and feed your partner.

Keep them fed, and they'll keep you safe. Neglect them, and you're on your own.

Being a security guard doesn't mean you can't be an entrepreneur.

The school grounds are your canvas. Place vending machines around campus and watch the money trickle in — every student, every visitor, every thirsty stranger off the street puts coins in your pocket.

Want to keep the kids out of trouble during breaks? Add playground equipment. Swings, toys, whatever keeps them distracted and happy.

Everything runs through the shop. Supplies, food, upgrades — if you need it, you buy it. The more you invest in this place, the more it gives back.

This isn't just a job anymore. It's your territory.

The bell doesn't ring itself — that's your job.

Every school day runs on a schedule, and you're the one keeping it. Class time? Ring the bell. Break time? Ring the bell. Bus pulling up to take the kids home? You guessed it.

Time it right, and everything flows smoothly. Forget, and you'll have students wandering where they shouldn't be, teachers getting frustrated, and chaos creeping in.

Simple job. Easy to mess up.

Everything you need runs through the shop.

Want better buses pulling up to the gate? Buy them. Need stronger tools or weapons for when things get serious? They're on the shelf. Feel like upgrading your look? New uniforms and outfits are waiting.

Money comes on your terms. Pick your pay schedule — daily for quick cash, weekly for balance, or monthly for a bigger payday. But remember: your salary isn't fixed. Do the job well, and you earn more. Slack off, and your paycheck shows it.

Work smart. Spend smarter. The shop is your ladder — climb it.

The students are gone. The halls are empty. Now it's just you and the night.

Your patrol route covers every corner of the school. Move through each zone, confirm it's clear, and move on. Check the classrooms. Check the gates. Check every door — if it's supposed to be locked, it better be locked.

Leave something open, and you're inviting trouble. What kind of trouble? You don't want to find out.

Stay sharp. Stay thorough. The night shift isn't for the careless.

You signed up to guard a school. Nobody mentioned the apocalypse.

The outbreak that tore through the city has finally arrived at your gates. Zombies — fast, relentless, and smarter than they have any right to be — are pouring in. Running won't save you. Panic will get you killed.

Arm yourself. Learn their patterns. Use every weapon, every trick, every dirty strategy you can think of. This isn't just survival — it's war.

The school is yours. Defend it, or become one of them.

Kids will be kids. But some of these kids? They like fire a little too much.

Flames can erupt anywhere — classrooms, hallways, bathrooms, wherever a troublemaker decides to strike. When it happens, you don't have time to think. You run.

Make sure your fire extinguisher is in your inventory before things go wrong. Find the blaze, aim, and put it out before it swallows everything in its path. Wait too long, and the damage is done — equipment destroyed, areas lost, chaos everywhere.

Fire doesn't wait. Neither should you.

Who says security guards can't be artists?

When you're off the clock — or just feeling creative — grab a spray can and go wild. Every wall, every street corner, every surface on campus is yours to customize. Pick from dozens of built-in graffiti packs, or go personal and import your own logos, artwork, or designs.

Tag your booth. Decorate the entrance. Turn the whole school into your gallery. Buy new graffiti packs from the shop to expand your collection and keep things fresh.

You're not just guarding this place. You're making it yours.

There's a reason the old staff never talk about what happened here.

Years ago, a teacher died in this school. An accident, they say — killed by her own students. But whatever happened that night didn't stay buried. She's still here. And on certain nights, she wakes up.

You'll know when she's close. The air changes. The lights flicker. And then you'll see her — drifting through the halls where it happened, searching for something. Or someone.

There's no weapon that can stop her. No room safe enough to hide. When she appears, you have one option:

Run.

Behind the uniform, you're still human. And humans have needs.

Feeling tired? Sleep in your booth to recover health. Bored between shifts? Turn on the TV and relax for a minute. Nature calling? The bathroom is there for a reason — toilets, showers, everything you need to stay fresh.

And don't forget to move. Exercise, go for a run, stay in shape. Skip the workouts too many times and you'll feel it — slower, weaker, rounder. Nobody wants a security guard who can't outrun a student, let alone a zombie.

Take care of your body. It's the only one you've got.

One school isn't enough. Why stop there?

Unlock new locations and construct entirely new schools from the ground up. Choose the layout, place the buildings, design the grounds — every campus is yours to create.

But a school is nothing without students. Create your own from scratch — pick their face, their hair, their uniform, their style. Dress them up, mix and match outfits, and customize every detail until they're exactly who you want walking through those gates.

Build the schools. Fill them with students. Run the whole operation your way.

This isn't just a job anymore. It's your empire.