Everything is falling apart and somehow you end up as the one guy sitting in the big chair. That is the feeling this game chases. Virus, empty streets, city quiet like a church at night, and then you open the interface and it just goes: “You’re the mayor now. Do what you want.” There is no slow heroic build up, no epic speech. It is more like waking up hungover and realizing you accidentally bought a whole city on Steam during a sale. Only this time the city is full of desperate, scared, very fuckable people who need food, safety, rules, and you are the one deciding what “rules” actually means.
What I like is how casual the corruption starts. You are not forced to be some cartoon villain. You begin with small decisions. Approve some ration cards, move a patrol here, give a special pass to that district. Then the game quietly asks if maybe that cute nurse can get extra medicine if she gives you a “private report” first. You say yes once, and like in WhatsApp chats you think “ok, only this time.” But the next scene remembers. Her sprite changes, her attitude softens, she starts calling you “Mr. Mayor” with this tiny blush. Then the CG kicks in and suddenly your office desk is not for paperwork anymore. The city is dying outside and you’re rearranging her underwear like it’s the most important problem in the world.
The survival layer actually feeds the porn instead of just being some menu in the corner. You cut funding to security so you can pour resources into building your private harem wing in city hall, and the game lets you do it. Crime rises, some people suffer, you still get a new scene where a former councilwoman crawls to you, begging for protection. And you sit there with your fake moral choices. “Sign this obedience contract if you want supplies for your district.” She hesitates for half a second, then the CG shows her on her knees between your legs, signing with her mouth busy. The writing is blunt, not poetic, and that fits. This world is not romantic, it is hungry. Bodies bargaining for safety, girls trading their pride for your signature. Sometimes the text goes a bit too edgy and silly and you roll your eyes, but then a new character pops up, maybe a local cop or a teacher, and the game nails that specific fantasy of slowly watching her standards rot away scene by scene.
What really got me is how the visual novel style makes your filth feel official. You click through council reports, infection stats, budget numbers, and then in the same interface you choose to personally “inspect” the shelter staff. No music swell, just a choice button that changes someone’s whole life. You can pretend to be caring, giving out resources like a kind leader, but the game keeps tempting you with that darker path: exclusive access passes in exchange for “night visits,” forced loyalty oaths while you fuck them over your desk, whole city districts run like your personal breeding grounds. The corruption is not just in them, it’s in you watching the next CG unlock and thinking, “Ok, just one more depraved law.” And it never really judges you. That’s maybe the most dangerous part. This is not a story about saving the city. It is about how good it feels when no one can tell you no.