Angel is the kind of girl who still says “sorry” when someone gropes her in the train, which is exactly why this city eats her alive. She’s this cute redhead trying so hard to be “good” while the whole place is basically a hunting ground for frustrated creeps. You start with her doing little everyday stuff that should be boring, like taking the train, doing classes, helping at home, but it never stays normal. Every routine quickly turns filthy. Guy “accidentally” rubbing his crotch against her in a packed wagon, professor sliding his hand over her thigh while pretending to help her with an exam, landlord walking into the shower like it’s his house, not hers. And the worst part is how often the game lets you pretend it’s all just a misunderstanding. If you want. If you don’t, it becomes exactly what it looks like.

The bar is the main playground. It’s not some cool stylish place, just a tired, sticky-floor hole full of drunks who have nothing better to do than stare at Angel’s ass while she carries beers. You’re bussing tables, trying not to spill glasses, playing these stupid little minigames to keep up with orders, but your real focus is on where the hands are going. A guy pats the seat and tells you to sit on his lap “just for a second,” and the game throws you a choice that looks small. Sit and smile to keep the tips flowing, or pretend you didn’t hear. Both feel bad in different ways. Same with the classic “if you bend a bit lower while wiping, I’ll tip better.” Thing is, it’s not one big decision. It’s a thousand tiny ones, and after a while it’s hard to say which moment was the first time you actually crossed a line. There’s this one scene where you’re carrying a tray, the bar is crowded, and some asshole slips his hand up your skirt right in front of everyone. The screen narrows your options to stupid things like “keep walking” or “yell at him,” and neither stops his fingers from already being there. That felt too real, in a messed up way.

What I liked is that even away from the bar, the game doesn’t magically chill. Going home in the evening has its own flavor of harassment, random guys at the bus stop, that creepy neighbor pretending he’s “just checking the mail.” Inside her house isn’t safe either, the landlord has that slime energy of “I pay for this, you know” and he acts like her body is part of the rent. You get choices that feel unfair, like letting him watch TV with her in a towel because she has no clean clothes, or locking herself in the room and risking “punishment” later. Half the time I picked the “safer” choice and still felt like shit. The game is not subtle about the fetish side, it’s full of public groping, forced “accidents,” blackmail, that whole corruption fantasy where morality slowly slips away. But it also nails that specific humiliation of pretending everything is normal while someone fingers you under the table at work. There’s roleplay bits too where Angel starts leaning into it if you push her that way, using the bar as an excuse to dress sluttier or flirt harder for tips, and even then the world doesn’t suddenly turn respectful, it just gets bolder. It’s messy, sometimes annoying, kind of repetitive in places, but it feels like it really understands this particular fantasy of being a “good girl” trapped in a city that refuses to let her stay that way.

You start as this nobody in a school full of assholes, basically wallpaper that can hold a bag. People bump into you in the corridor and don’t even say sorry, teachers misread your name every single time, and the only time anyone looks at you is when they need a free note from last lesson. Then the game quietly puts this “tool” in your hands. No tutorial, no glowing button, just a weird interface, some profiles, and the feeling that someone is watching you from behind the screen. It looks almost boring at first, like some cheap chat app or a bad school portal, and then you send one message and the story flips from “sad nerd” to “oh shit, I can actually break people.”

The fun part is how much of it lives inside text and your imagination. You are not walking around with WASD or anything, you are sitting in your room, reading and typing, going through chats with classmates, teachers, that weird girl everybody calls a freak, the thot who lives on Instagram, the strict class rep who pretends she hates attention. The game lets you poke inside their heads, first gently, then deeper, then way too deep. You use pressure, little lies, blackmail, secret pics, their own kinks they try to hide. One moment you are just convincing a girl to send a “harmless” selfie after school. Next moment you are telling her exactly how to touch herself while she tries to keep her voice down because her parents are in the next room. The writing is so casual it hurts. No big description of “her luscious curves” bullshit, just things like “her hand shakes near her skirt as she waits for your next message” and your brain fills the rest.

Sometimes you play the big dominant asshole, pushing them to call you “sir” or “master,” making them kneel in the empty classroom they thought they locked, forcing them to write “I am your slave” fifty times instead of homework. And then the game flips and throws a girl at you who is way more broken than you are. She reads your messages like you are the toy, not her, and you realize you walked into her trap. There are scenes where she orders you to describe your own kink in detail, mocks your hard-on through the screen, then uses your own fucked up fantasies to turn you into the obedient one. She’ll tell you to put your phone on speaker, pull your cock out and stroke only when she texts “go,” punish you when you slip, and it feels unfair because you thought you were in control. I loved that. I hated that. No, actually I loved that. The whole “mind control” thing is not just hypnosis magic, it’s the way text can slowly twist someone’s brain, and the game is kind of rude about how easy it actually is. You blackmail a shy girl with stolen screenshots until she agrees to meet in a dark classroom, hands on the desk, ass out, and when you finally slide your hand under her panties and make her jerk you off with those shaking fingers, you realize she isn’t just scared, she is getting addicted to obeying.

There are some nice AI-style images popping up here and there to glue the fantasy to your brain, but they never explain why one girl’s hair suddenly looks slightly different from another angle and it annoys me every single time. Also the phone notification sound is slightly off, like some cheap Android clone, and it drove me crazy, but I never muted it anyway. You go from reading stupid school gossip to ordering a girl to record herself choking on a dildo in the school bathroom, and then later she casually sends you a pic of her wearing her uniform with the shirt open, collar pulled up like a leash, pupils wide like she’s high, waiting for your next command. The game often pretends you have this big “moral choice” but we both know you are here to corrupt everyone, including yourself. And it works: by the time you have one girl calling you “owner,” another one blackmailing you right back, and a third one begging you in private chat to make her your personal pet so she doesn’t have to think anymore, you’re not really sure if you’re the villain, the victim, or just the pervert sitting behind the keyboard, grinning at a bunch of text boxes like it’s the most important thing in your life. Which it kind of becomes, at least while the game is running.

Eric thinks he’s just taking his shy little wife Grace out of the city for some quiet countryside air, but the whole thing reeks of “bad idea” from the second you see his dad. Fletcher is that type of older guy your mom warned you about on Facebook fitness groups: silver at the temples, shoulders like he still lifts real weights instead of scrolling TikTok, that easy smile that screams “I fuck around and never get caught.” The game doesn’t waste time pretending he’s a saint. He’s checking out Grace in the first ten minutes, eyes lingering on her ass when she leans over, pretending he’s just “correcting her posture.” You’re sitting there thinking, dude, that’s your son’s wife, but then the camera just stays on those big tits pressed against his chest during a “harmless” stretching session and suddenly you’re not judging shit anymore. And the fun part is, you’re not locked into one point of view; one moment you’re trapped inside Grace’s confused little head, trying to convince yourself Fletcher’s hands on your hips are totally normal family stuff, next moment you’re Eric, watching from the doorway, pretending you don’t see the way your own dad looks at your woman like a new workout machine he wants to test.

The neighbors are the cherry on this fucked up cake. Hailey and Ian are that weird couple that seems too friendly, the type who brings over a pie for no reason and then won’t leave. Hailey is pure trouble: perky, tight top, always “accidentally” bending over in front of Eric, asking him to help fix something while her husband is away. Meanwhile, Ian acts like Fletcher’s lost twin spiritually, throwing horny little hints and talking way too much about “sharing experiences” over beers. It starts slow, just casual hangouts in the backyard, a barbecue where Grace shows up in those yoga pants that hug her thick ass just right, Fletcher’s eyes following every bounce like it’s a religious thing. Then you get that one scene where Grace is helping Fletcher in his private “gym,” he’s standing behind her, guiding her arms for some light exercise, and his hands end up on her tits longer than any normal human needs for “correction.” You can see her breathing change. She doesn’t pull away. The game just sits in that discomfort. Long. And if you want, you push it. Maybe Eric walks in and pretends everything is fine, maybe he watches silently from the top of the stairs while his own father slowly corrupts the woman he promised to protect, or maybe you push Grace herself to go from “this is wrong” to “I just want to feel that thick daddy cock break me in.” There’s this one scene where Fletcher’s hand casually wraps around hers while she’s stroking him and he guides her pace like he’s teaching her some fitness move, and she’s biting her lip, eyes glassy, muttering his name instead of her husband’s. It’s gross and hot and messy and feels exactly like some fucked up Pornhub rabbit hole you swear you’ll never go down again, right before you click the next scene anyway.

Emily Does It All feels a bit like scrolling the “close friends” stories of some messy college girl on Instagram, except every time you tap there is a choice hanging over her next bad idea. It pretends to be innocent at first, all campus vibes, roommates, group chats, that boring professor who talks too much, and then suddenly you are watching her grind in some quiet corner of the library, pretending to study while Nick’s hand is already up her skirt. And the thing is, you told her to wear that stupid short skirt in the first place, when she was teasing in the mirror and asking “too much?” You know perfectly well it was too little, but that is the fun. Or the problem. Hard to say.

She is not some shy virgin archetype. Emily already fucks, she already enjoys it, and the game doesn’t waste time pretending otherwise. One scene that really stuck in my head is this lazy afternoon on her bed where she and Nick end up in a clumsy sixty-nine. Legs tangled in sheets, phone buzzing beside them with a message from Claire, totally ignored while Emily is moaning with his cock in her mouth and dripping on his face at the same time. It looks hot, but also a bit awkward, like real sex. She lifts her head, wipes her chin, laughs, then asks if she should send Claire a selfie “by accident” while she still has that fucked-out blush. You can go “nah, keep it private” or tell her to lean into her little exhibitionist brain and flash just enough skin that Claire has questions later. And she will. Claire always has questions. The funny part is, sometimes Emily acts like she is all carefree and slutty, but the next day she is sitting in some stupid campus cafe, overthinking a kiss on the cheek from Luke, the neighbor boy with the soft heart and the hard-on every time she bends over to pick something up. You push her to flirt more, she pretends she doesn’t notice his eyes on her tits when she “accidentally” forgets a bra under a thin top. Sure, Emily. Totally accidental.

The sex is not just stuck in bedrooms. There is this corridor after class where some drunk party dare from earlier comes back to bite her. She promised to walk through the building with no panties under a short dress if she lost a silly card game, and you actually let her lose. Later you watch her cheeks burn while a gust of air lifts the hem and some random dude behind gets a full view. You can tell her to pull the dress down and behave, or just let her feel that wetness between her legs grow while she keeps walking, pretending nothing happened. The camera kind of lingers on her thighs, and there is this little detail of her biting her lip, like she hates that she is turned on by being exposed in public. I like that mix, the guilt with the thrill. Though the way the game keeps popping little textbox choices during a hot blowjob breaks the flow sometimes; I was on my phone in Chrome, one hand very busy, and suddenly had to decide if she swallows or lets it drip all over her boobs while he squeezes them. Of course I picked the mess, but the timing made me swear out loud. Also, the sound of the text click is weirdly loud compared to the moans and I will complain about that forever and never adjust the volume, out of pure stubbornness. Anyway, if you want to milk every spicy moment here, best way is to stop thinking like “good route” or “bad route” and just ask yourself at each choice: is Emily the girl who closes her legs, or the one who spreads them a little more and then worries about it later? Because once you start answering that honestly, the story goes to some very fun, very filthy places on its own.