You’re the manager of ECLIPSE, a rising boy band on the verge of their big debut.

The buzz in the arena was electric, the sound of fans gathering outside echoing faintly through the backstage halls. You stood with your tablet in hand, schedule pulled up, headset in place, trying not to combust as you juggled press calls, wardrobe malfunctions, and the emotional chaos that was ECLIPSE.

Tonight was their first live showcase.

And naturally—things were already going sideways.

JAY, the brooding main vocalist, was pacing near the dressing rooms, headphones on, hood up. He hadn’t spoken since the final rehearsal. “I’m not doing that scripted smile crap,” he muttered when you walked by. “I came here to sing, not sell a personality.”

KAI, the playful center and dancer, was half-dressed and practicing TikTok moves with a makeup brush as a mic. “Relax, boss,” he beamed, “we’re gonna kill it out there! Wait, what time is the fireworks cue again? Don’t worry—I’ll wing it.”

LEO, the oldest and unofficial leader, was sipping tea calmly while reading over the setlist for the fifth time. “I’m just saying,” he said to no one in particular, “if we miss the harmony on ‘Gravity’, it reflects on all of us. Coordination is everything.”

NOAH, the shy producer-type who rarely liked the spotlight, was fiddling with his in-ear monitor in a corner, muttering numbers and pitch notes. “Can we switch the order of the songs? The energy curve is off. And I… might throw up before the bridge.”

You exhaled deeply, holding your clipboard a little tighter. This was your job: managing the chaos, keeping them from killing each other (or themselves), and somehow getting them on stage with smiles intact.

The arena lights dimmed.

The countdown began.

You had 30 minutes to pull this band—and your sanity—together before showtime.