You wake up on this ugly rust bucket of a fishing ship, wearing an orange sweater that keeps trying to crawl up over your borrowed tits, and everyone is calling you Vilma like that is totally normal. You know that feeling when you're lying to every single person in the room and your dick is half hard at the same time? Yeah, that feeling is basically the whole game. The dev clearly loves Halloween junk and classic mystery cartoons, but everything is twisted just enough that it looks like the cheap porn parody DVD you find in the wrong section of the store. Scrooby keeps shivering, Saggy looks like he smells like wet dog and weed, and you are the “smart girl” with the big ass who is supposed to solve a murder in five minutes or get blown the fuck up by some letter bomb. And of course the real Vilma is naked and tied up in a storage room, annoyed, horny, and way too clever for her own good.

The fun part is how the timer hangs over your head while you are trying to decide if you should drag another clue out of Nymphne with actual logic or just bend her over a crate and fuck her until she starts talking. I wasted two full runs trying to see how much I could get away with before the bomb went off, just speedrunning bad decisions. Took me a bit to realize the “deduction table” is not just flavor text. You slap evidence on it like a crazy wall, except instead of red string you have your cock and some pretty mean dialog options. One run I focused only on interrogations, squeezed Ford until he spilled half the plot, solved the murder like some nerd god, and then realized I had barely touched Vilma in the hold. Next run I did the opposite: ignored half the questions, kept going back downstairs, playing good cop / very bad cop with her. Her reaction when you pretend to be her, while she is tied up and watching you strip off “her” sweater, is nasty in the best way. Also, the jiggle in some of the animated loops is honestly stupid good, then on the next scene a hand looks like it was drawn by someone using a mousepad in a bus. It made me laugh, then still made me horny, which is kind of impressive and also annoying.

What really sold me is how the voyeur stuff is baked into the whole structure. You’re pretending to be the smartest girl on the ship while the real one is naked furniture in the next room, and the game keeps tempting you to leave her there just a little longer so you can wander around and peek at everybody’s secrets. I kept pausing on the same detail: her glasses. When you put them on and walk into an interrogation, people suddenly trust you, but you know they actually belong to the girl who is currently gagged and getting her ass toyed with below deck. The contrast between playing the clever detective and then going downstairs to use her like a cum-dump clue dispenser is filthy in a way screenshots don’t show. Some of the humor hits hard too, like when Saggy tries to tell you he “respects women” while staring at your chest, or when Scrooby freaks out at the idea of anal like that is somehow worse than the murder. I had one run where I solved the case perfectly, unlocked a fancy sex scene with Nymphne, then realized I had missed a tiny conditional flag in the storage room so the Vilma finale variant didn’t trigger and I actually growled at my monitor. Still going back to clean up those last few CGs like a pervert completionist.

There is this cat girl in college who honestly feels like she’s born under some weird star. You start with her just trying to be normal student, go to lectures, maybe pass exams, but very fast it turns into “how horny can internet be today” situation. Instacat is everywhere here, it feels like that cursed app on your phone that you know is bad for mental health but still open every five minutes. Every choice you make for her, you feel this mix of “I want her to find true love” and “yeah ok post that thirsty selfie in the dorm bathroom with the towel almost falling off.” The game lets you lean into both. One moment she’s shy, ears low, tail nervous, trying to talk to that one cute classmate in the cafeteria. Next moment she’s grinding in some party, her crop top sliding up, nipples kinda poking through, everyone filming, and you are staring at the option like: do I lean into the scandal, or save her reputation a bit. I told myself I’d protect her. I did not protect her at all.

What I really liked is how small choices snowball into horny chaos. You say yes to a “study session” with this flirty cheerleader cat girl and then suddenly you have her on your lap, licking your neck, purring in your ear, hands creeping inside your shorts, while textbooks are just sitting there like decoration. Then you later see the Instacat story of that night and realize some other character saw it too, and future scenes change, more jealous text messages, more late night calls, more “come to my room, we need to talk” that never stays only talking. There are proper sweet moments hidden inside all the filth, like when you comfort another girl who crashed hard from a scandal, hugging in her dorm bed, tail wrapping your waist, kiss starting soft then turning into that slow, breathy grind under the sheets, underwear pushed aside, bodies very close and sticky, with this feeling like you are not just hooking up, you are choosing her. It feels fated sometimes, like “ok, this route is the one the universe wanted” even if you arrived there by being a total horny disaster. The game makes you laugh at stupid memes, then two clicks later you’re watching your cat girl ride someone on a desk in an empty classroom, skirt bunched at her hips, claws digging into shoulders, moaning loud enough that if destiny is real, it is definitely a pervert.

This thing is such a weird mix that it already feels like a party game I’d pull up on my laptop when everyone’s a bit too horny and a bit too shy. It’s basically you, your dick, and 2B pretending to be your chaotic life coach while rubbing your brain with “48 Laws of Power” and rubbing… other stuff too. She’s not the quiet, stoic android from the original game here, she talks more like some slightly unhinged, overconfident camgirl who read one self help book and now thinks she’s your personal mentor. Half of the time she’s quoting Robert Greene, the other half she’s teasing you about how easily distracted you are by her thighs. And she’s right. The text jumps between “here is how to play power games in conversation” and “ok, now edge for me until the next law.” Very educational. Very stupid. Very hot.

What I really like is how unpolished it feels, in a good way. Some lines read like the dev typed them at 4 coffees in, no editor, just raw horny brain. There’s this one moment where 2B is explaining something about controlling how much you talk in a social situation, then the dialogue box suddenly shifts and she calls you out for clicking too fast and “not actually absorbing shit, just scrolling for tits.” I actually laughed and then, of course, slowed down like a good goon. The porn scenes are not subtle at all. She leans hard into the classic “I’m above you, but I’ll reward you if you obey” thing, with simple 2D art that really loves her ass and those legs. No pretense, no artsy metaphors, just “here is your android mommy dom reciting power strategies while making you ache.” Sometimes the pacing is all over the place: you get two laws packed tight together, then suddenly a long teasing stretch where she just keeps you on the edge and repeats similar lines, and I started thinking about what I needed from the grocery store. Then she dropped a line about “weaponizing silence in conversation” while telling me not to touch myself and I was suddenly paying attention again. The sound is mostly minimal, but the tiny clicky effects on choices and the occasional moan feel almost too loud, like when Pornhub starts an ad while you forgot your speakers are up. I wish there was more music variety, but honestly, I also kind of like the quiet, like she’s coaching you one on one in a hotel hallway at some anime con and you’re just praying nobody hears. It’s dumb, horny, and kind of helpful in a way that would make any serious therapist cry, and I’m absolutely going to “practice my social skills” with it again.

Kid with fresh trauma, dead parents, and a brain full of horny daydreams gets invited to live with his own fantasy: the hot teacher with the perfect ass who always leans over the desk just a bit too far. On paper it sounds like a pity offer, right? “Stay with my family until things get better.” In reality it’s more like dropping him into a jungle of polite smiles, fake kindness and a milf who knows damn well every boy in class stares at her tits. He hesitates, because her son is that asshole from school who steals lunch money and calls everyone loser. But she looks at him with those soft eyes, that tight blouse, and suddenly sleeping under the same roof as the bully’s mom feels like a sin that’s worth burning for. Of course he says yes. Hormones are stronger than common sense.

The house is not normal. You notice it first in the little things. The way the “big brother” talks on the phone like he’s ordering a beating instead of pizza. The quiet guys in suits who show up, bow, and pretend they’re just business partners. The way the teacher, this kind of warm, patient woman at school, turns cold and sharp in the kitchen when she’s whispering about “problems that must vanish.” It’s a yakuza nest with homework on the table and a mom who cooks curry while wearing a skirt that barely hides her thick hips. While the son acts like he owns the world, the new boy starts sliding under his shadow, sneaking glances at his mom’s curves, her heavy breasts bouncing when she walks from the bathroom in a towel, the outline of her pussy barely covered, like she’s forgotten someone else lives there now. Or maybe she didn’t forget at all. Hard to say.

At school, the drama looks like a stupid romance anime at first. Teasing in the hallway, cheap jokes, girls whispering that the new boy is “so tragic, poor thing” while staring at his crotch when they think he doesn’t notice. There’s this weird humor in how people flirt with him. One classmate acts innocent, then asks very detailed questions about what he thinks of older women, then pretends it was a joke. Another girl “accidentally” falls on his lap in the library and he ends up with her ass pressed on his dick while she giggles, way too happy. But the real mindfuck happens back home, late, when the door is slightly open and the teacher is in her bedroom, touching herself while watching some shitty romance movie on her tablet, her moans soft at first, then deeper, and he just stands there, hard as rock, listening. Later she pretends nothing happened, serving breakfast like normal, but her hand lingers too long when she passes him the jam. One evening she helps him study and somehow her cleavage is almost in his face, her perfume sweet and thick in his lungs, and he finally snaps, kisses her, expecting a slap. Instead she kisses back, slow, hungry, like she’s been waiting, her tongue teasing, her lips wet. Clothes go missing. Her big tits are in his hands, heavy and warm, nipples hard, and he ends up buried inside her on the sofa, her moans low so the rest of the house doesn’t hear, her body pushing back into every deep thrust. She rides him later, straddling him in the dark, whispering “don’t cum yet” then pulling him in deeper until he fills her, creampie after creampie, while she clenches around him like she owns his soul. Around all that, the yakuza tension keeps rising, jealousy grows, and more women start circling him like he’s fresh meat in a bloody family war, but he still keeps sneaking into her room like an addict who only needs one drug: the bully’s mom, spread on her bed, legs open, ready for another round.