This thing feels like somebody grabbed my lonely browser history, sprinkled a bit of cheap perfume on it, and said “here, touch yourself and also maybe feel a bit sad about your life choices.” You get one blonde girl, that’s it, and you just... fuss over her. Change her outfit, swap bras and panties, throw on some necklace that looks way too expensive for the room she’s in. It’s basically paper dolls for horny adults. Weirdly relaxing. Annoying too, because every time I thought “ok this look is perfect, she’s a classy slut now” I noticed some tiny thing like the shoes not matching and then spent forever switching them around like it actually mattered. It doesn’t. But it feels like it does when you’re already hard and still choosing between black lace and white lace like this is some kind of emotional decision.

The strip routine kicks in once you hit that little “alright, showtime” vibe in your head. She starts peeling things off in front of you, piece by piece, and it actually matters what you dressed her in before. If you put her in boring underwear, the whole thing feels like watching your neighbor doing laundry with music on. But if you stack layers like some horny onion, that slow reveal hits different. I made her start in this tight little dress over matching set, with thigh-highs that didn’t really match, and for some reason that mismatch was the hottest part when she slid them down. The movement is not fancy, it’s almost awkward, like she practiced in front of a cheap mirror and said “yeah that’s good enough.” Honestly I kind of love that. In real clubs, half the girls don’t dance like porn stars either. Sometimes they just sort of sway and look at you like “tip me or fuck off.” It has that energy. I once spent half a night lost in a YouTube rabbit hole of amateur strip videos instead of answering Tinder messages, and this game pokes that same broken part of my brain.

Control wise, it’s all point, click, undress, redress, repeat. No one explains anything, and they don’t need to. You drag your mouse over menus like you already know where the fun is. You won’t, and that’s half the charm. I kept clicking back through the wardrobe trying to remember where that one bra came from, the one that made her look like she’s pretending to be innocent for about two seconds before climbing on your lap. Couldn’t find it again later and I’m still annoyed, like Spotify forgetting a song you once loved. There are accessories that look hot but also completely useless, which is perfect. Real strippers wear stuff that makes no sense if you think about it more than two seconds. Choker that screams “daddy issues,” earrings so big they could catch radio signals, all while you know it’s coming off anyway. I wish she reacted a bit to the outfit choices, maybe a smirk when you strip her down to just panties, or a slower tease when she’s wearing more, but she just keeps doing her thing. Not a huge deal. Or maybe it is. Whatever. By the time I finally got the exact outfit I wanted, I had already forgotten what I was trying to prove to myself. Just sat there, watching this digital blonde take off clothes I carefully picked, feeling both turned on and oddly proud. Then mildly depressed. Then horny again.