The mouse click feels hollow. That’s the first thing I notice. Not the big tits tag lying to me, not the 3DCG that looks like someone smeared vaseline on a PS2 memory, but the actual physical click of my trackpad. It’s a Macbook, the one with the busted haptic engine so every press is this mushy, unsatisfying thud. Fits the game, honestly. You’re this uni kid, dad’s dead, and you’re just… clicking through dialogue. The text boxes have this slight bounce animation, a little springy recoil that my finger almost feels through the glass. Weirdly nice.

The school setting is a ghost town of stock assets. I spent five minutes trying to clip my character’s shoulder through a vending machine just to feel something. The humour tag is doing a lot of heavy lifting, like Atlas with a slipped disc. There’s a bit where a side character makes a joke about a professor’s wig that landed with the grace of a dropped casserole. I laughed once, I think, but it might have been a cough. The whole thing is a story game first, they scream that from the rooftops, no sexual content yet. Yet. The word hangs there like a promise from a politician. My screen’s backlight is too harsh, a cold LED bleed that makes the big ass models look like mannequins in a morgue. I kept adjusting the angle, trying to get the fake subsurface scattering on their cheeks to look less like a fever dream.

There’s a relationship system, I guess. You meet people. The world changes slowly, which is code for “we’ll add the fap material in version 0.7.” The male protagonist has the emotional range of a wet brick. I found a hidden note in a desk drawer, a little lore crumb about his dad, and the paper texture was actually decent, a high-res scan that felt gritty against the otherwise plastic world. That was the peak. I scrolled Twitter on my phone for ten minutes while an auto-play dialogue tree about tuition fees droned on. The fan on my laptop kicked in, a warm little whirr against my palm, more engaging than the plot. Why is the UI font so tiny? I’m not a hawk.