Raven wakes up in Lustein with the kind of hangover you get from reality itself, not from alcohol. She knows three things: her name, that she’s a witch, and that everyone around her is way too horny for a Tuesday that doesn’t even exist. The town looks like some fantasy RPG town you half remember from an old JRPG, but somebody replaced half the NPC dialogues with porn hub comments and cult propaganda. On one corner there’s a prim girl in a hood preaching purity, on the next there’s a slime girl casually jerking off a tentacle beast in an alley, and both scenes feel normal after about ten minutes. The game doesn’t even apologize for it. You walk Raven around, poke your nose into “investigations,” and every lead about the mysterious Order somehow slides into another sex scene, another shady deal, another monster with way too much cock for its own skeleton.

What I liked is that Raven isn’t written like some clueless virgin protagonist who “accidentally” falls on dick every five steps. At first she’s confused, guarded, trying to treat every encounter like a real case file. You’re choosing dialogue options, digging for clues, following rumors about disappearances and strange symbols, but half the clue-givers are masturbating behind curtains or peeping through keyholes when you arrive. The voyeur stuff sneaks up on you: you accept a “stakeout quest,” thinking you’ll watch a corrupt priest meet his contact, and suddenly you’re crouched behind a crate, watching him get absolutely flooded by his own acolytes in a holy-bukkake ritual that looks like a blasphemous version of a Klimt painting. You can stay hidden, stroke yourself with Raven’s gloved hand while the scene unfolds, or reveal yourself and twist the ritual to your own kind of magic. The game pretends it is about an investigation, but it is actually about how far you push her corruption, how much you let Lustein leak into her soul and underwear. There’s turn based combat, sure, but it’s the kind of combat that laughs at normal balance. You’re casting spells that bind tentacles, seduce bosses, or literally masturbate mid-battle to charge a corruption bar that works like mana and moral decay at the same time. An early battle with a raven-headed knight is still stuck in my head: the fight starts like normal, you exploit his weak point, suddenly his armor snaps away and what’s under it could never fit in that plate mail. You can finish him “properly” with fire and hexes, or stun him using a seduction stance that turns the screen into a slow striptease, then ride him until he swears fealty with a mouth full of your magic. There is this absurd tension between “I am saving this world” and “I am absolutely getting railed by it.”

The outfits are not just costumes; they feel like alternate timelines for Raven. You change from a modest witch dress into a shredded leather top and thigh-high boots, and the game quietly adjusts how people react. That prim Order nun earlier suddenly stops seeing you as possible recruit and starts looking at you like potential prey, cornering you later in a side chapel and suggesting “purification” that involves ropes, candles, and her tongue taking a pilgrimage between your legs. Another time I put Raven into a delicate, almost scholarly robe, and went to a monster-infested forest. Bad idea. The tentacle plants there literally respond differently, coiling around her as if they’ve found a rare flower and need to pollinate it from every angle. You’re given choices, but a lot of them feel like you’re only choosing how filthy things get, not if. One quest has you investigating rumors about a masked witch corrupting villagers. Plot twist: that witch is basically you from the future if you dive too far into the hentai logic of Lustein. Fighting her in turn-based battle is weirdly arousing and tragic: magic circles, mirrored incantations, her taunting you with what you will become, then pinning you down with living chains while she pours her “knowledge” into your mouth. The best part is I hated some tiny UI things, like how the log sometimes hides a line you want to reread during a particularly heavy lesbian ritual, and I will complain about this in my head forever, but at the same time, when Raven kneels in a ruined library, covered in monster cum, reading sigils from a soaked grimoire while fingering herself to unlock a new spell, I forget everything else. It feels like those old fantasy paperbacks where the margins are full of notes from some horny reader before you, except now you’re the one writing them on Raven’s skin.

This one feels like scrolling your phone after a breakup, half naked in bed, then suddenly falling into someone else’s messy life and going, “oh shit, that’s me.” You’re this college guy who used to just rot in his room, drowning in cheap snacks and porn tabs, pretending that ghosting your ex and muting half your contacts counts as “healing.” Then basketball drags you back into the light. Not as some heroic sports anime star, more like the dude wheezing on the court, staring at a girl’s bouncing tits in a sports bra and losing the ball because your dick thinks faster than your brain. The game leans into that awkward, horny, slightly cringe vibe. You’re not a smooth sex god at the start. You’re a rebound. For your own life, and sometimes literally for some of these girls who also use you to forget their shit.

The way it mixes horny and emotional is weirdly hot. One moment you’re in a quiet dorm room, just you and this girl with a huge ass squeezed into tight leggings, music low in the background, her hair messy in that “I didn’t plan to get fucked tonight” way. She laughs at something stupid you say, leans in, her tits softly pressing into your arm, and the whole world shrinks to the sound of her breath in your ear. Then the next scene you’re on the court, sneakers squeaking, crowd noise like a fuzzy roar, and you’re staring at the cheerleader with big boobs bouncing in slow motion while you miss a free throw you absolutely should have nailed. The writing loves to drag you back and forth like that. Loving the chaos and then pretending you’re better than it. The harem stuff sneaks up on you too. You start with just trying to talk to one girl without sounding like a Reddit post, and before you know it you’ve got a horny goth chick teasing you, a sweet sporty girl who moans your name when you pin her to the shower tiles, and some bratty college princess who pretends she hates you even while she’s grinding on your lap in a dark party corner. Choices matter, but not in that stiff “good route / bad route” way. More like: do you jerk off alone and text someone after, or do you swallow your fear, go to that date you almost cancel, and end up with her hand sliding under the table, stroking your hard cock while you try not to knock over your drink.

What really sticks is how slow some scenes let things build. There’s this moment where you’re just sitting on a bed with a girl, legs touching. She talks about some stupid fight with her ex. Nothing epic. The lights are low, some indie song plays on her laptop, just a soft background, and you’re watching the way her big breasts move under her loose shirt as she breathes. You feel like a piece of shit for checking her cleavage while she opens up, but the game knows you’re doing it and kind of laughs with you. When she finally climbs into your lap, straddling you, kissing you with this mix of need and hesitation, it feels earned. Like you really crawled out of your slump for this. Then other times it just goes full hentai brain, like “hey, you won the game, here’s a girl with ridiculous big tits riding you until the bed squeaks, moaning so loud you’re sure the whole dorm hears.” And both vibes work. It’s romantic one second, absolutely filthy the next. You masturbate, you fail, you get humiliated and turned on by the wrong things, you pick dumb options just to see what happens, maybe you score big, maybe you crash and burn. It never pretends you’re some perfect hero. You’re just a horny college idiot trying to turn one little rebound into a life where you fuck up less and fuck a lot more.

You start out as this pretty average guy who honestly has it way too good. Cute girlfriend who actually wants your dick and your attention, stacked childhood friends who orbit you like you’re some budget anime protagonist, job that doesn’t suck your soul completely dry. Then the game just kicks you in the balls. You die. No romance, no hero moment, just dead. Next thing, you open your eyes and there are these two weird divine girls talking about you like you’re a broken toy they picked up from the bargain bin. They give you “gifts”. They don’t explain shit. And that’s kind of the running joke of the story: every time you think “ok, now I get it,” the game hits you with another horny plot twist and a new way to get yourself in trouble with wet, needy women and the occasional guy who wanders into the mess.

When you wake up back at the local shrine, the world looks normal, but the vibe is off. Your memories are foggy, like a hangover where you only remember the sex parts. People around you are a bit too eager, a bit too touchy. Your girlfriend still loves you, of course, but now the game starts poking at that line between “loyal couple” and “ok, but what if she licks your cute coworker in front of you while you watch from the side, trying not to lose it.” The game really likes that angle: you’re not sharing her with dudes, it’s all about her with other women, and you stuck there playing half-proud, half-jealous spectator while tongues and fingers do all the honest work. There’s a scene early on where she acts all shy, then ends up on her knees between another girl’s legs, glancing up at you with this guilty puppy look while she’s tasting her. It’s sweet and filthy at the same time, like someone mixed a romance VN with raw horny doujin pages and forgot to separate them.

The “gifts” from the divines slowly show themselves in, let’s say, very physical ways. Your body reacts too strongly. You catch yourself staring when two girls hug, and the game leans into that voyeur thing hard. You peek through doors, “accidentally” walk in on your childhood friend in the bath, then later she’s the one kneeling in front of you, big wet eyes, lips wrapped around you while she tries not to choke too much. Some scenes go full fucktoy fantasy: a girl riding you like she owns you, using your cock just to get herself off, then collapsing on your chest while you drip out of her. There’s this swinging-style moment where the atmosphere turns almost party-like, different women passing you around with their hands and mouths, one girl kissing another while you’re buried inside one of them, hot breathing, sticky thighs, no one really asking if this is “good for the relationship.” The story pretends to care about guilt and cheating, then throws you into a soft harem where everyone somehow ends up naked anyway. And yeah, there’s dick going in, cum staying in, warm creampies leaking out on the sheets and on thighs, because the game is not shy about showing where everything ends up. Every route you poke opens another door: a lesbian side scene there, a guy appearing in the background, a messy shrine night where you’re watching two girls play with a toy on each other while you’re wondering if those divine “gifts” were a blessing or some cosmic pervert’s joke.

Keiichi feels like that dude who sits alone in the corner of a beach bar, pretending he’s “just enjoying the view” while his entire life is quietly catching fire. The game throws you right into his vacation, into this fake-relaxing tropical vibe where the air smells like sunscreen and cheap cocktails, and suddenly every girl you meet has a body that makes you forget what you were going to say. It looks like some light romantic thing at first, all smiles at the hotel café, sand stuck between toes, sun on brown skin, but it doesn’t stay soft. One moment you’re sharing iced coffee with a curvy Brazilian waitress, watching her ass sway when she leans over to clean a table, and the next she’s teasing you under the counter with her foot, pressing her soft sole against your crotch while she keeps talking like nothing’s happening. She laughs when you spill your drink, by the way. Total bully energy, and I kind of hated it and loved it.

The whole story is written like this messy diary he’s keeping on his phone, like when you open Google Docs at night and write stuff you’d never send to anyone. Some scenes are sweet in a painful way. You’re on the beach at sunset with this latina girl who pretends she just wants to talk about “future plans” and family drama, but the camera just sits way too long on her tits pushed up in that bikini, on tan thighs crossed in the sand. She puts her feet in your lap, wriggling her toes like it’s nothing, and casually asks if you’ve ever had your dick sucked on an empty shore. Cue choice screen: be a gentleman, or let her slowly slide down, her lips wrapping around you while waves crash in the background. You can pick if he’s loyal or just a horny idiot, but no matter what you choose, you still feel like a creep checking all the routes. There’s a party scene too, loud music, glow sticks, everyone half-drunk, her lipstick smeared as she pushes you into a dark corner near the pool and takes you in her mouth, choking and giggling, then asking if you’d still call her in the morning. You probably won’t.

The game keeps throwing women at you like you’re the last man on earth. Big tits bouncing in tight tops at the hotel café, big asses in tiny shorts walking ahead of you on the boardwalk, different skin tones, different attitudes. One is shy and romantic, blushing when your hand brushes her ankle, then later she’s the one giving you a slow, almost worshipful footjob on the bed, her painted toes gripping your shaft while she whispers that she wants to belong to you. Another girl flirts with your friends, flirts with everyone actually, and if you follow the wrong choices she heads off with some other guy, and the game just lets you sit in that sick netorare feeling, reading Keiichi’s jealous diary entry where he pretends it doesn’t bother him. Sometimes the choices feel fake, like they clearly want you to go for the full harem route, with all of them orbiting around your dick on this “vacation that changes everything”, but then there are these tiny moments where someone refuses you, or talks about old wounds, and suddenly your porn game turns into late-night emotional torture. Still, every time I told myself I’d stick to one wholesome romance, I ended up at another beach party, staring at bouncing tits in a wet bikini top, toes sliding along my shaft under the table, and clicking the most trash option available without even pretending to be a good guy.