Monet feels like somebody took a regular city, squeezed out all the warmth, and replaced it with glass, chrome and secrets. IRYS throws you in there like you just woke up from a dream you half remember, wearing a cheap suit and an ID badge that says you belong to Deimos. You start as this regular office guy, doing spreadsheets, watching useless meetings on Zoom while pretending to listen, getting coffee that tastes like it was filtered through somebody’s sadness. On the surface it’s that boring corporate life. Then you start noticing small weird things. People know things about you that you never told them. A coworker remembers a night you “spent together” that you’re pretty damn sure never happened. Your boss praises you for a project you have no memory of, and in the same breath hints that you owe him more than just good performance. That’s when the game starts to crawl under your skin a little.
The horny part doesn’t show up like a hentai pop-up. It slips into the routine. You’re in a late-night office review, just you and this colleague with big soft tits almost falling out of her blouse, blue light from the monitor on her skin, both of you talking about quarterly targets like robots. Then there’s a line of dialogue that feels too intimate. She leans in too close. Her hand stays too long on your shoulder. One click and you push her away and keep pretending to be a good boy. Another click and you grab her wrist, pull her into your lap, and suddenly your boring Excel sheet is sharing space with her moans and the sound of your cock sliding into her on the boss’s fancy ergonomic chair. IRYS is like that a lot. It gives you these “professional” masks and waits for you to peel them off. Sex scenes are very physical, animated just enough that when you’re fucking her against the office window or bending her over a lab table, you feel every thrust. Sometimes you are gentle, slow, like she is something you want to protect from this fucked up city. Other times the corruption hits and you use her, hand on her throat, filling her raw and hard while she begs you not to stop, even when the guilt dialogue kicks in afterward and makes you question if those feelings are yours or some Deimos script injected into your brain.
What really got me was how the romance and the sci-fi mess bleed into each other. There is this one scene where you wake up in your small apartment, naked, next to a coworker you definitely did not take home. Her hair is messy, thighs still glistening, your cum leaking out of her, and she looks at you like you have been lovers for months. You check your phone and there are whole chat logs, selfies, dirty pics, little heart emojis, like a full relationship that someone speedran while you were asleep. It feels like the universe glitched and rewrote your fate. As somebody who actually believes in destiny, that hit weird. You start asking: did I really fall for her before and just forgot, or was this romance manufactured in some secret Deimos experiment so they can pull my strings better? Later, when you take her in the back of the office, pressed against a server rack humming with data, her legs wrapped around your waist while you fuck her deep and she whispers that you were “always meant for each other”, you can’t even tell if that’s sweet or just another line of code. The game loves putting you in those moments. You climax inside her during some illegal lab test, alarms faint in the background, and instead of simple post-nut clarity you get this strange dream flash of another timeline where you never joined Deimos and she never existed. IRYS keeps poking: is your dick leading you, or is the company guiding your dick so it can own your heart and your guilt at the same time. I kinda hate that it works so well. I also kinda love it. I’m confused. It fits the city.