One radar scope. Four slices of sky. Everybody's planes, nobody's fault.
"Your quadrant! YOUR QUADRANT!" "He just LEFT my quadrant!"
| # | Crew | Planes | 🛬 | 🛫 | Shifts | Time | Traffic | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| No shift has been worked yet. The scope is dark and waiting. | ||||||||
Four quadrants, split across the crew. Only YOU can command planes in your slice — the moment one crosses the line, it's someone else's problem.
Tap a plane, give it heading, altitude and speed. Cross the runway threshold aligned, at altitude 1, slowed up — or it goes around and loops back into the mess.
Every departure has a named gate on the edge of the scope. Get it there at altitude 3 or it counts as lost.
Two blips merging at one altitude is a midair: −3 hearts. Altitude is your best friend — stack them, then sort them.
Every plane runs a clock. Flame-outs cost hearts, and planes drifting off the wrong edge do too. Ten hearts, no refills.
From shift 3 a storm cell drifts across the scope. Three seconds inside and a plane is gone. Traffic ramps every shift until the crew cracks.