Trapfield Hotel's got this whole weird economy simulation thing going on, except instead of managing spreadsheets you're managing... well, let's just say the staff qualifications are pretty specific. The premise is absolutely ridiculous - apparently there's this magical hotel where only the most endowed femboys and hung futas can get employment. Makes about as much sense as pineapple on pizza, but hey, at least it owns its absurdity.

What really caught me off guard was how committed this thing is to its own internal logic. You'd think a game built around hiring hypersexualized employees would just be mindless clicking, but there's actually some thought put into the corruption mechanics. Characters don't just flip a switch from innocent to depraved - there's this gradual sissification process that feels surprisingly well-paced. The humor helps too; some of the dialogue had me genuinely chuckling between the more explicit scenes. Though I gotta say, the pacing gets wonky in places where it feels like the dev couldn't decide if they wanted a slow burn or immediate gratification.

The visual novel format works well enough, especially with the POV elements during the steamier moments. You get these first-person perspectives that really sell the domination dynamics, whether you're on the giving or receiving end. The art style leans heavy into that exaggerated hentai aesthetic - we're talking comically oversized assets across the board. Some might call it over the top, but honestly? It fits the ridiculous premise perfectly. The femdom scenes pack the most punch, probably because the power dynamics feel more natural in this setting. Just don't expect deep character development beyond "innocent worker becomes hotel slut" - though sometimes that's exactly what you're looking for in a kinetic novel like this.

Kislev looks normal at first glance. Streetlights, cheap shops, that one park bench where everyone pretends not to stare at each other. Then you notice how empty it feels, like the city is holding its breath. Officials keep saying “just a weird cold, nothing serious,” while half the people you meet have this strange tired look in their eyes and the other half are just horny as fuck and pretending nothing is wrong. You play this dude who goes “yeah, I’m out, I’m leaving the city until shit calms down,” but of course he’s late, like every protagonist with a big ego and a bigger cock. And somehow running away turns into drifting deeper into this mess of sex, money, and that quiet fear that maybe tomorrow you won’t wake up at all. Or worse, you will.

The whole thing feels like a fantasy about the end of the world where everyone deals with panic by getting freaky. You’re out there sweet talking thick women with soft bellies and massive tits spilling out of bras that never quite fit. There’s something really nice about how the chubby girls are treated, actually. They’re not a joke, not “before the glow up,” they’re just hot. Big asses, big boobs, big everything, and the camera really takes its time. You’re flirting, buying them shiny crap like cars and jewelry, acting like some budget sugar daddy, and half the time you know it’s stupid but it works, so you keep doing it. One milf leans over your new car, huge tits pressed against the window while she asks you if the seats are comfy enough to “test suspension.” And yeah, you say something smooth. Or you try. I misclicked the dialogue, told her something lame, and she still ended up palming my dick through my pants, super slow, teasing like she has all the time in the world even though the city might be dying around us. That scene actually made me pause Spotify because I wanted to hear every tiny sound. Then I put Spotify back, because I’m an idiot.

I like how the MC’s cock is treated like an actual presence. When a thick girl wraps her soft fingers around it for a lazy handjob, the visual really sells the weight, the size, the way her cheeks flush like “fuck, I didn’t expect it this big.” There’s a moment where a bbw presses your shaft between her heavy tits, and you can practically feel the warmth off the screen. It’s detailed, but sometimes weirdly clumsy, like the dev spent 3 days on the curve of a nipple and 3 minutes on the background. Also whoever designed the jewelry shop UI clearly hates humans, I swear one button is half a pixel off and it still annoys me. The game likes to tease too much sometimes: lots of grinding, lots of “almost” scenes before you finally get release, but when you do, it’s thick, messy, and right in her face or over her giant chest, and she looks proud like she just survived the apocalypse by taking your load. The virus, the panic, the lies from the authorities, it all just becomes this excuse for everyone to live harder, fuck louder, and pretend choices still matter. They probably don’t, but you keep clicking like they do.

College spits you back out, you drag your suitcase up the old familiar stairs, and the first thing that hits you is that weird mix of nostalgia and horny frustration. You’re supposed to be the “grown up” version of yourself now, but the house still smells like coffee, furniture polish and that floral perfume your grandma’s friend wears. She’s the one waiting inside. Not some generic landlady with rented room rules, but this older woman who clearly remembers you as “such a cute kid” and now can’t stop staring at the outline in your jeans when you stretch. The game leans hard into that shift, that strange moment where polite family-adjacent small talk slowly, painfully tilts into something that should probably be illegal in five different ways. It does not rush. It pokes at you. Constantly. Morning wood scenes, shower doors that never really close, “accidental” brushing of her tits against your back when she squeezes behind you in the tiny kitchen. You’re not being told “this is a porn game, go click sex.” You’re stuck in that half-realistic, half-fantasy zone where you creep around the hallway at night, phone screen low, pretending you’re going to the bathroom while you secretly hope to catch her bent over the washing machine again.

What hits hardest is how much of the actual play is just you existing in this cramped domestic space with people who all want something from you. Some want comfort, some want cock, some pretend they don’t want either. You spend a lot of time in small interactions: a hand on your thigh lingering just a bit too long during a movie, toes sliding up your calf under the table, a “help me with this zipper” that clearly doesn’t need help. One scene that stuck with me was when you’re on the couch with her, late, both tipsy, and she falls asleep half on your lap. Your hand ends up resting on her ass almost by accident. You can pull away like a good little boy, or you can let your fingers sink in a bit, feel that heavy warmth, smell her skin. If you push your luck she doesn’t jump, she sighs, like she’s been waiting for this exact mistake. It’s slow burn, but when it finally snaps, the game is not shy. You go from stolen glances to her on her knees, spit on your cock, mumbling how long she waited to taste you. There’s worship here, a lot of it. Your body is treated like a toy and a shrine at the same time: cock kissing, balls cradled, her laughing while she edges you with lazy strokes and then scolding you for almost cumming on her face without permission. At some point you realize half the house has their own angle on you, from the sweet virgin type who just wants cuddles and suddenly finds herself riding you until she squirts on your stomach, to the pushy one who uses your face like a seat and then pretends it never happened at breakfast. There is some goofy stuff too, like a cosplay night that starts as a silly joke and ends with you in handcuffs, her in a way-too-tight outfit, using a toy on herself while you’re forced to watch until she lets you join. The writing swings between affectionate and filthy in a way that feels messy, a bit clumsy, but honest. Sometimes the pacing drags and you’ll click through way too many “good morning” scenes for one butt squeeze, and a couple of side characters feel like they exist only to feed your dick without much personality. But then there is this tiny quiet moment where one of them curls up against your chest after a crazy group scene, tracing circles on your skin, whispering that she hopes you don’t leave again, and you realize the game is not only about fucking every hole in reach. It pretends to be just cheap smut, then throws in pregnancy talks, jealousy, cheating, a weirdly wholesome cuddle after you have her bent over the sink for anal. It’s messy, horny, a bit wrong, and strangely cozy in a way that will probably say something about your brain you didn’t want to know.

Become Alpha is a porn game with tons of memes, kickass branching storyline, quests, RPG-like experience system, and a possibility to have sex with many partners. It's also pretty damn funny. The story is about Harry Panuchkin who's a nerd and a wannabe gangster. He has a big dick, but never actually used it. It's your job to help him get the pussy and make him a proper alpha male, that he always wanted to be.