You wake up in an airport lounge. You don't know who you are, or why you're here.
You are stranded. You have amnesia. The only way out is through the people around you. Talk to all of them, or choose your moments carefully — both approaches mean something.

On duty for a reason that changes every run. Some nights he just wants to go home. Some nights he's watching you.
The shop is hers, some runs. Others she only minds it. What stays constant: she knows something she isn't volunteering.
Waiting like everyone else — except he had somewhere to be tonight, and a reason he's in no hurry to explain.
As the evening deepens, the window to escape narrows. One by one, the strangers leave. Each one takes something with them.
Powered by the Combo Engine
Every time you play, you meet different personalities — each one assembled fresh from a unique combination of motivation, curiosity, and psychological profile.
One run, the guard just wants to go home. The next, he's watching you very carefully. A personality that didn't exist in the last run, and won't exist in the next.
You never learn the characters. You learn how to read people.
The Combo Engine also reads you. Not through questions — through how you behave.
A word from the developer
Every creative decision — every design choice, every tone, every value — comes from a person. Computers don't make art. People do.
The characters are the result of language models that understand human psychology at a depth that wasn't possible a few years ago. Not to replace human creativity — to serve it. That distinction is intentional, and central to everything Terminal 3 is. It's what made Terminal 3 possible for me as a solo indie developer.
Your data. Your session. Nobody else.
The game reads you to serve you — not to profile you for advertising, not to sell your behaviour, not to build a dossier on who you are. You are not the product. You are the player. I verify and comply with Anthropic's API data-retention policy, and make no marketing claims beyond what is confirmed accurate.