Hell has a weird sense of humor here. Instead of fire and torture racks, you get a tiny boring town full of people who pretend they’re good, and an overachieving demon who’s basically your horny project manager. Your “job” is simple on paper: push these walking hypocrisies into every ugly, dirty, wet sin you can think of, and do it faster than the angel who’s fluttering around trying to keep their halos from sliding off during sex. The funny part is that the town looks harmless at first glance. A quiet shopkeeper, uptight priest, lonely housewife, nerdy student, those office types who act like they’re married to Excel. Then you start poking around, you see how thin their morals are. One slightly wrong choice and the shy girl who “never does this” is suddenly on her knees in the back room, drool on the floor and mascara halfway across her face, while you’re already planning who to corrupt next.

What makes it feel good is how the game treats sex like a slow infection instead of a jump scare. Early scenes are pretty tame, just some teasing, half-accidental groping, a hand going a bit too low, like they’re still telling themselves it doesn’t count as cheating if they don’t kiss. Then it escalates. You walk the same route through town, but the energy shifts. The bar that was almost empty before now has a drunk office lady grinding on some random guy’s thigh, pretending she doesn’t notice his cock pressing into her. The girl who once refused to wear a short skirt is now “just trying something new” while her panties are basically transparent. And both you and the demon know it’s because you chose to nudge her, again and again, into that spiral. It feels a bit like philosophy class crashed into Pornhub: every choice is technically about ethics, but the answer is always someone getting fucked against a wall. The angel keeps showing up with this fake pure attitude, trying to reset people, but you can drag the same characters back into filth, harder than before, until the whole concept of redemption starts feeling like a running joke.

There’s this one route where you keep visiting a very religious household. At first it’s just awkward talk about virtue, prayer, that usual “we must resist temptation” script. Then you get one crack in the armor. A slightly too long look, a hand “accidentally” touching a thigh, the mother biting her lip when she thinks nobody sees. A few corrupt choices later, and the man who led grace at dinner is fucking his daughter on the couch while the wife watches with her hand shoved into her panties, whimpering like she’s the one being used. The game doesn’t pretend it’s romantic. It’s messy, uncomfortable, and hot in that specific “I shouldn’t be enjoying this but I absolutely am” way. The angel interfering there feels almost comic, like trying to cover a cum-stained sheet with a prayer book. The more progress you make, the more the whole town becomes this living map of your sins: streets that used to feel clean are now linked in your mind with moaning, spit, rough hands, and all those “oh god” lines that clearly don’t mean god at all. And the demon? He’s not your friend, not really. He’s just as obsessed with ambition and winning as any startup boss, only his KPI is how many holes you can turn into willing, greedy, shameless tools of hell. If that idea alone doesn’t turn you on a bit, this probably isn’t your town anyway.