I keep thinking about the color of Theresa’s dress in that first scene - it’s not even a nice color, kind of that faded wine shade you get when you leave fabric under the sun too long. But it clings to her like she knows exactly what she’s doing, and maybe she does because when the professor touches that stupid old relic, everything goes sideways. The game doesn’t rush; it sort of drips forward, sticky and slow, like honey sliding down a cracked plate. One minute you’re reading dusty notes about ancient gods, next minute you’re watching shadows crawl over her skin, making shapes that shouldn’t look beautiful but somehow do. It’s horror, yeah, but also something softer, dirtier - like being turned on by your own fear and hating that you are.

There’s this weird rhythm to how corruption happens here. You think it’s just sex - plain, sweaty, trembling sex - but then it twists into something else, something that feels like losing language. The futa transformation stuff? It hits harder than I expected; it’s not just shock value, it actually messes with how you see the characters. The male protagonist isn’t some macho cliché either; he gets undone by curiosity, not lust, though the two get tangled until you can’t tell which is which. I liked that. Or maybe I didn’t. Hard to say. Sometimes the dialogue sounds like it was written by someone drunk on their own imagination, but then a line lands so perfectly filthy you want to screenshot it and send it to nobody.

If I had to complain - and I do, because something in me always wants to - the pacing dips right when the monster shows its real form. Too much screaming, not enough breathing. Still, there’s this one moment where Theresa looks straight at the player, pupils blown wide, whispering things that make you feel complicit, and that alone makes the whole messy ride worth it. It’s not neat, it’s not polite, but it’s alive in that way only games that don’t care about being “tasteful” can be.