This thing is like a summer barbecue where someone forgot to light the grill. You show up, the sun is blazing, there's tits everywhere, but then you're just standing around with a warm beer waiting for something to actually happen. You're this college guy, right? First year, horny as hell, surrounded by girls who apparently need fucking like they need oxygen. The setup is pure fantasy fuel, and I was ready to burn through it like cheap rolling papers.

The stats system. Love and lust. Two little bars you gotta pump up like you're inflating a pool float. Except the pool float has a slow leak you can't find. You click, you read, you make a choice that feels like it should lead straight to some messy backseat action, but instead you get another paragraph about someone's summer plans. I wanted to scream. The real model tag is doing some heavy lifting here because the images are decent, actual women with curves that make sense, big boobs that don't defy physics entirely. That part kept me poking at it. But the pacing, my god. It's like edging but unintentional, and not the fun kind where you know the payoff is coming. More like your wifi cutting out during the crucial scene of a movie you've already seen three times.

I wish the management side had more teeth. You're supposedly juggling relationships but it feels like filling out a spreadsheet where all the cells just say "maybe later." There's this one character, a milf type, who shows up and the text gets almost good, almost hot, and then the scene just fizzles. I tabbed over to check Twitter halfway through. Not a great sign. The RPG elements are there in name only, like calling a hot dog a sausage platter. By the time I closed it, what stuck with me wasn't the tits, it was the weirdly specific detail about a dorm room desk lamp. I don't know why that's the thing I remember. Maybe because nothing else left a mark.