First time I opened it, I thought the colors looked a bit too clean, like candy wrappers in a porn set. But then she turned her head - Alya - and her eyes had this lazy way of tracking you, half bored, half aware you’re staring at her chest. It’s supposed to be parody, right? But it feels like the people who made it both love and mock what they’re copying. The male lead moves like he’s unsure if he deserves to be there, which somehow makes the whole thing dirtier. There’s something wildly unbalanced about how quick it switches from sweet talk to her mouth sliding down him. No fade-outs, no convenient camera cut. It just lingers. Too long maybe. Or not long enough.

The dating sim mechanics are barely pretending to matter. Tap, choose, get flustered text messages, and suddenly you’re deep in a warm rhythm that feels too personal for something you’re doing on your phone. I caught myself thinking about her hair texture mid-scene - like, how soft would it actually be after? That’s the kind of stupid detail that shouldn’t matter, but it’s there. She teases constantly, calling him “senpai” in a voice that sounds more drunk than shy. The transitions between affection and filth are messy, which I kind of adore. You can tell the animators didn’t care about polishing it smooth; they wanted it to *feel* like it could go wrong at any moment. When she presses against him, breasts heavy and animated with this exaggerated bounce, I almost laugh. Then I don’t.

There’s a scene (pretty sure it’s optional) where she insists on finishing him while keeping eye contact, and it’s uncomfortable and hot in a way only parody can be. The game pretends to be romantic, but the romance cracks open fast once things start moving under the sheets. Maybe that’s the point - pretend sweetness wrapped around shameless fucking. You could call it satire. But I’d rather call it honest.

Phil is the kind of old bastard you see in hentai and think, “nah, nobody is like that in real life,” and then the game spends about ten minutes proving you wrong. He used to be this self-proclaimed sex god, king of the boarding house, panties thief, the whole package, and now he’s broke, humiliated, and somehow still horny as fuck. The plot is simple on paper: someone screwed him over, he got kicked off his throne, and now he claws his way back up by joining the local mafia and turning his own house into this weird mix of crime HQ and pervy playground. It sounds ridiculous, and it is, but that’s kinda why it works. One moment you’re helping him deal with shady guys in suits, the next you’re peeking through keyholes to watch a girl ride a dildo she swears is “for back pain only.” The game just shrugs like, yeah, that’s normal. Helga, Olga, Mirian, Layla, Ronda, Phoebe… every name drops like some bootleg crossover of childhood cartoon parody and cheap soap opera, and they all come with their own flavor of fuckery. Helga being a tsun brick with big tits is probably the least surprising thing in here. The first time Phil accidentally walks in on Layla, ass in the air, playing with a toy in front of her phone camera, I actually paused and laughed, because of course the old pervert doesn’t back out. He just stands there, breathing heavy, and the game lets you drag that voyeur moment out longer than it should. The teasing is constant, insanely slow at times, like the devs are edging you on purpose. You grab tits, you grope asses, someone complains, someone moans, and the line between “oops” and “he totally meant that” is very blurry. It’s a sandbox structure, so you bounce around the house, repeat scenes, poke at characters until new stuff unlocks. Sometimes it’s hot, sometimes it’s just Phil being a creepy old fuck and you go “okay dude, relax,” but then you click the same option again anyway, so who’s the real problem here.

What I didn’t expect is how much the game leans into Phil being old, not in a sad way, but like a filthy legend past his prime trying to speedrun a comeback. He talks about his “glory days” while staring at a teen with a big ass bent over the kitchen counter and whatever sympathy you had just melts. And yet, the game still lets him be this weird charm bomb. He flirts with Milfs and teens like it’s all the same sport, one minute groping some big tits in a cramped hallway, the next sabotaging some poor bastard’s date so he can swoop in. There’s a scene with Olga where he “helps” her with yoga, and you can practically smell the sweat and desperation when he pretends his hands just “slipped” to her ass. Anal stuff shows up more casually than I expected too, like Phil is just ticking off a bucket list he started thirty years ago. The parody angle pops out more in small jokes: little nods to “Hey Arnold” style names, some girl literally named Ronda who looks like she walked out of a bootleg hentai version of a kids show, and the game never points at it directly, it just sits there and lets you be the one who feels dirty for noticing. Sex toys appear in random places, like a vibrator casually on a coffee table, and Phil’s reaction is always the same horny old man energy, half shocked, half delighted. I only really got annoyed at tiny things, like how the same teasing line repeats in certain scenes and the timing of some events feels off, you walk in, get blueballed, leave, come back, same half-finished seduction, like the universe is lagging. But then you hit a new voyeur moment with Phoebe showering, water dripping over huge tits pressed against the glass, and the irritation just fades into the background noise. Nothing feels polished, not the pacing, not the transitions, not even the way Phil talks, but in this type of game it kind of fits. It’s like dirty fanfic that escaped, got some code slapped on it, and decided to become your new guilty habit without asking.

Bolsdip sounds like the kind of town where nothing happens, but then you walk around for five minutes and suddenly you are watching your hot neighbor masturbate through a half open curtain and pretending this is “part of the investigation”. You play this young detective who comes back home carrying big city attitude, small town trauma, and a dick that keeps voting against professional ethics. On the surface it is this classic mystery thing: weird disappearances, rumors about supernatural shit, people keeping secrets. But the game quietly keeps shifting everything into sex. Every clue, every locked door, every awkward chat in the college hallway somehow slides toward blackmail, seduction, or some fucked up mix of both where you are not sure if you are saving them or corrupting them further. It feels less like solving cases and more like peeling clothes off reality, one layer at a time.

The way it plays is relaxed and a bit messy in a good way. You click around town, poke at objects, wait for certain times of day, and different scenes unlock depending on what you already screwed up or screwed. One run I spent ages orbiting the local professor, this classy-looking woman who talks like she teaches ethics but dresses like she cosplays her own students’ fantasies. Conversation with her starts academic, about motives and perception and all that, then suddenly she is pressing you against her office desk, whispering about “research” while her hand slides down your pants. It’s not just “sex scene, reward, next”. She keeps referencing previous choices, teasing you for hesitating when she first offered to “help you relax”, and if you push back she flips into this cool femdom mode, sitting on her chair and making you kneel between her legs while she explains moral philosophy like it’s foreplay. I wish the transitions between normal talk and horny talk were less abrupt sometimes, but at the same time that abruptness kind of feels right, like how real desire cuts into small talk without asking.

Next door is the milf who looks way too perfect for this shitty little town. She bakes, she smiles, she leans over in yoga pants in a way that absolutely counts as exhibitionism. She acts all caring, nostalgic about when you were younger, but the camera angle really cares only about her tits and her ass. You end up in these situations where you “help” her carry boxes, fix some minor thing in her house, and the reward rapidly goes from a hug to her guiding your head between her legs on the living room couch while some boring TV show is on in the background. There is this one scene where she pretends to be half asleep on the sofa and you are standing there, watching her nipples harden under the shirt, and the game lets you choose whether to be a good guy or quietly slide your hand under the fabric. It feels dirty in a very aware way, like the game is staring right into that part of your brain that always wonders what you would really do if nobody judged you. And then, when you think you have the pattern, the game throws that hidden baocat thing at you, so suddenly you are clicking around locations looking for a ridiculous little mascot that unlocks some extra lewd toy or secret animation. It is silly, breaks the mood, makes you grin, and somehow also makes the next blowjob scene feel more earned, because you hunted a stupid cat for it. The whole thing ends up like a horny detective diary: a slow burn of mysteries, voyeur moments, guilt-flavored orgasms, and the constant sense that Bolsdip itself is getting wetter and weirder the deeper you push.

Royal Madness is probably the closest thing to a horny fairytale written by a very drunk court painter who really likes cats with huge tits and smug faces. You’re tossed in as Lewis, bastard ocelot prince, and the world instantly treats your royal blood like a kink rather than a title. It’s not subtle about it. Every rival, every “enemy,” every supposed threat ends up circling one question: are you fucking them into your harem, or are they turning you into their cute little pet instead. The game doesn’t pretend to be noble. It treats power as a sex toy and nobility as an excuse to collar people and re-style their bodies until they match your tastes a bit too perfectly.

What I liked is that the characters aren’t just recolors of the same cat-girl with different boobs. The art actually feels like someone sat there and thought “ok, what if a smug lioness warlord had hips like a fertility statue and armor that only makes sense if her nipples are a political statement.” Sometimes it looks messy, lines a bit shaky, anatomy going off on its own adventure, but that fits the energy. It’s not corporate clean, more like horny sketchbook that got out of control. There is this rhino general, for example, huge chest, scars across the muzzle, and when you win their challenge the magic doesn’t just slap “now they are pretty” filter. No, you literally watch the body warp piece by piece, broad muscles smoothing or sharpening, maybe the tits swelling stupidly big while they gasp halfway between outrage and getting turned on by losing. That slow change hits way harder than a simple “transformation finished” screen.

The actual structure is that loose sandbox style where you hop from one hot mess to another, switching perspective between male and female protagonist when the story feels like it, not when you are ready. One scene you’re Lewis using magic to slowly erode the pride of a tiger knight, teasing him until his cock and even his voice betray how much he wants to kneel. Next time the game flips and you’re playing as one of your own ex-rivals, now loyal, wandering your palace and accidentally starting something filthy with a new intruder who thought they’d be the one on top. That shift is the fun part. You see the same harem from different eyes, sometimes as a conqueror, sometimes as the newest toy, sometimes as the one being “improved” by your own magic. And the kinks slide around too. One route gives you a stacked lion queen that you carefully nudge from terrifying monarch into doting, overprotective mommy dom, then another throws you against a seemingly submissive bunny clerk that ends with you collared, hips reshaped, moaning her name while she tests how flexible ocelot royalty can be when properly “reformed.” Half the time I was cursing at the tiny UI buttons and weird pacing, the other half I was staring at the screen of my phone on the tram, trying not to bite my lip like a complete idiot.

If you really want to squeeze every filthy drop out of it, don’t rush straight to the obvious sex scenes. Poke around the challenges, lose on purpose sometimes, see how the transformations twist when you’re the loser instead of the victor. Talk to characters again after you’ve changed them, especially the big tits crowd and the ones who pretended they didn’t care about you. Watch how their new bodies and new roles corrupt their own original goals. Treat each battle less like a level and more like a negotiation with the world’s nastiest fashion designer. That’s where the game actually gets hot.