Garnet McLane. That's who we're dealing with here. From Dragonaut. And she's got that purple hair, you know the one. The game opens with her wanting to bake a cake. A fucking cake. I'm sitting there, hand already on my dick, and she's worried about cream. She's out of cream. Okay, fine, a plot is a plot, even when it's this thin. It's like the writer just needed a reason, any reason, for her to knock on the neighbor's door. And that neighbor, well, he's got a big cock. That's the tag, right there, no point dancing around it. It's a thing that happens.

So she goes over. The dialogue is... it's dialogue. It exists. She asks for cream, he has other ideas, and suddenly we're in a massage scene that feels like it was animated by someone who learned anatomy from a particularly rushed hentai sketch. The handjob starts, then the blowjob, and the whole thing has this deliberately unpolished feel. It's not "stunning visuals," it's more like finding an old doujin on a forgotten hard drive. The cumshot lands, and you think, "Yes, that's a fluid simulation." And I mean that in the most basic sense possible.

I forgot to mention the dragonaut part. She's from space or something, right? Who cares. She's on her knees. The pacing is like a microwave dinner. You know it's not gourmet, you know the peas will be nuclear and the meat still frozen in the middle, but you eat it anyway because it's there and you're hungry. The game doesn't build tension so much as it just lists events. Knock, talk, rub, suck, done. There's no first date here, this is a straight to the long-term relationship where you've stopped trying and just go through the motions. And yet I clicked through every scene. What does that say about me? Probably nothing good. The neighbor barely has a character model that doesn't clip through her hair. I'm still thinking about that cake, though. Did she ever get to bake it? We never find out. That's the real tragedy, I suppose.