You wake up on this flying steel hotel called HMS Yuritopia, officially as “new fighter pilot”, unofficially as “dude dropped into a horny anime base”. The whole thing has this weird mood where half your brain is going “ok, we have mission briefings and air combat to worry about” and the other half is looking at the Seraph Squadron girls in their tight uniforms and thinking about literally anything except safety protocols. It starts pretty tame, just chatter in the hangar, some teasing, a bit of MC awkwardness, you picking dialogue options and trying not to sound like a complete idiot. Then very quietly the game puts your dick on a rails and goes, yeah, this is about sex, romance, and also jets, try to keep up.

What I like is how it doesn’t shove you straight into porn from line one. You flirt, you pick sides, you piss someone off by choosing the “cool” answer that actually lands as cringe, and the game remembers it. One scene you’re in the cockpit, comms crackling, adrenaline going nuts while you chase bogeys over some nameless ocean, and then later you’re in the locker room with one of the girls, the air still buzzing from the mission, her boots half unlaced, her flight suit hanging loose from her waist. She lifts her foot onto the bench, starts smirking down at you, and suddenly you’re on your knees, cheek pressed to her thigh, tasting sweat and soap while she rubs her toes along your lips like she owns your mouth. She doesn’t even need to say “good dog”, you feel it. The game loves that kind of power imbalance, like constant little reminders that yeah, you’re the pilot, but they’re the real aces here, especially when it comes to your body.

At some point you end up in this semi-private observation deck, glass all around, stars and clouds outside, and one of them decides to use you as her stress relief. She sits on your face while the ship hums around you, legs clamped tight, voice dripping trash talk. She calls you pathetic in one line and then fingers your hair in the next, sighs like she’s actually proud you know how to use your tongue. You can feel her heels against your back, pressing, like she’s pinning you there so you don’t even think about breathing before she’s finished. Later, another route, you’re in her cabin, lights low, she makes you sit on the floor between her knees while she lazily strokes you with one hand and pats your head with the other, talking in that soft pilot briefing tone about how “a good subordinate obeys every order”. The handjob is slow and almost painfully controlled, she stops right before you cum just to tilt your chin up with her toes and ask if you deserve it. That’s the kind of mean that sticks in your brain. And then somewhere else, way less dramatic, you’re just in the mess hall, talking shit about loadouts and missions, and two girls are basically flirting with each other over your plate like you’re just background furniture, brushing each other’s fingers, trading little looks, and it’s somehow hotter than the obvious blowjob scene that comes later in the corridors when one of them drags you behind a bulkhead, drops to her knees, and uses you to wipe that smug smile off your face, except it doesn’t work because now you’re the one whimpering against the wall, trying not to make noise while she dribbles spit down your shaft and laughs quietly every time your hips jerk. The whole thing feels like romantic drama and horny barracks gossip got locked together in a cabin, and you’re the idiot who knocked on the door at the worst possible moment.

You start as this young sultan who basically inherited a messy empire, a half-empty harem and a bunch of advisors who care more about their own pockets than your crown. The game doesn’t treat you like some all-powerful god from the first minute, more like a horny newbie with a very big title and not enough experience. You’re juggling money, politics, and a growing collection of very different girls and boys, all with their own hang-ups and kinks. One moment you’re trying to keep the janissaries from revolting, the next you’re deciding if the new redhead slave gets trained as a personal toy or sent to charm some foreign ambassador. That kind of “ok I just wanted to see titties, why am I making trade deals now” feeling is pretty much the core vibe here. The management part sneaks up on you: taxes, buildings, intrigue, and then suddenly you’re halfway through min-maxing your silk routes just to afford another exotic dancer with a ridiculous ass.

The harem stuff isn’t just “collect girl, fuck girl, forget girl”. Some of them fall in love, some just want to serve, some definitely want to own you back. You can be very soft, boyfriend-style romantic with one wife, giving her slow oral in a candlelit bath while she moans and tells you about her fears, and five minutes later you’re in the training room with the leather toys on the wall, collaring a mouthy slave and using her throat like it’s your property. There’s a nice contrast between those quiet bedroom scenes and the louder group events, like that first time you organize a private orgy to celebrate winning a war: half the harem piled on silk cushions, girls sharing your cock, a nobleman watching while his “gift” gets taken from behind right in front of him. Some scenes go into gay content too, which actually fits the court vibe: a loyal guard kneeling, kissing your ring, then your shaft, clearly torn between worship and lust while you decide if he gets promoted or just fucked. There’s cheating drama baked in as well; you can promise one beloved concubine to be “only hers”, then sneak off to have anal fun with the new dancer in the baths, hoping the little spying eunuch doesn’t talk. And of course he talks.

Sex isn’t just a menu choice here; your political choices change who you can touch and how. You want that proud noblewoman with the big tits who keeps insulting you in council? Maybe you crush her family in a tax scandal and she ends up in chains in your private chambers, glaring at you while you finger her wet pussy and tell her exactly what her new job is. Or you go the other way and actually woo her, give her power, and she climbs into your lap by her own will, riding you slow while whispering court secrets. The sandbox structure means you keep stumbling into weird stuff: a lesbian scene where two of your favorites start “training” each other without your order, one licking the other’s ass while they talk shit about your fashion sense; a sudden option to lend a slave to a visiting prince for a night and later decide if you punish her for “enjoying it too much”. A lot of the fun is in those small moments: trying to keep track of who you promised anal to, or realizing that the quiet bookish girl you kept ignoring now runs half your palace because you focused too much on the big tits. It’s messy, horny, and kind of mean sometimes, like real court gossip mixed with porn, and the game doesn’t really care if you try to be a good guy or the kind of sultan who uses every mouth and hole in the building just because he can.

You start as this quiet guardian angel, not some shining armor guy, more like a nosy mod in a cursed Discord server, watching a girl in a city that feels cut off from the rest of the world. At first it’s almost calm: narrow streets, fog stuck between the buildings, people pretending they’re normal while catgirls and foxgirls just wander around like it’s nothing. You don’t walk in the city yourself, you nudge it. Tiny choices, small pushes, changing who she meets and what kind of shit she gets dragged into. One run she’s shy, hiding under hoodies and closing curtains, another run she’s half naked in a bar window, acting like she forgot what shame is. The game never stands up and says “here is the corruption route now,” it just lets scenes creep in. A dirty job offer here, a “favor” there, some pervy landlord watching her undress through a crack in the wall while you decide whether to stop it or see what happens next. It feels wrong and interesting at the same time, which I guess is the point.

The city itself slowly turns into this living kink playground if you let it. That quiet back alley becomes the place where she ends up on her knees between two strangers, trying to keep eye contact with you, like she still hopes some angel is actually watching. One decision earlier you told her to take that “easy money,” now she is in a cheap motel room with a group of guys, mascara smeared, trying to act like she’s fine with being used as a cum dump. If you push her harder, the outfits get bolder, tops vanish, skirts get shorter, and suddenly every corner has someone wanting a taste. Interracial scenes in cramped stairwells, public blowjob next to a parked car while a foxgirl girl records it on her phone, lesbian stuff in a steamy bathhouse where she lets another girl pin her to the wall and ride her face until she almost passes out. Sometimes she’s on top, humiliating some poor bastard, spitting in his mouth, choking him a little. Next day she’s the one getting slapped, called a whore, forced to say thank you while a crowd watches and laughs. The game swings between male dom, femdom, and just pure chaos, and the whole time you’re stuck in this weird zen state, clicking options like “encourage” or “ignore” while people choke each other out in graphic, messy detail.

What really hits is when the violence ramps up and the sex doesn’t stop. There is this scene where some thugs drag her behind a warehouse, and it’s not soft at all. She gets pinned to cold concrete, legs forced open, you see the panic, then that fucked up moment where panic turns into something else. Blood, spit, rough thrusts, her voice cracking between begging and moaning, and you’re still there in your little guardian menu, deciding whether to call in a miracle or just let it scar her more. Next playthrough maybe you steer her towards a brothel instead, and now prostitution is almost “cleaner” by comparison: a line of clients, one after another, her learning how to deepthroat while a madam talks about prices. She leans into exhibitionism too, standing under a flickering streetlight in nothing but a thin top, nipples visible, pretending she’s cold while secretly getting turned on by all the staring eyes. Sometimes you do nothing and just watch her through cameras, like a voyeur god, as she lazily rides a guy on a sofa and stares at the invisible you, almost like she knows she’s never alone. The sandbox thing means you just kind of wander between events, trigger something wild, then waste time talking to some random catgirl who wants her tail pulled. It’s messy, uneven, too slow in parts, and yet that fits. Like sex where you both lose rhythm, laugh a bit, then go harder and rougher than before. The girl changes, the city changes, and somewhere in there, you realize you stopped trying to “protect” her and started being curious how far down she can slide.

Elizabeth Barton is the kind of redhead your brain keeps replaying when you should answer emails. Middle of her life, big tits that make blouses look like they’re about to file a complaint, tight business skirts, that “I know what I’m doing and I know you’re looking” vibe. She runs this clothing franchise like a boss, but the game doesn’t treat her like some cold power woman. She’s messy, horny, insecure in the little ways that feel too real. One minute she’s calculating sales, the next she’s staring at herself in the mirror in her office, hand sliding under the waistband, pretending the security cameras can’t see shit. They can’t. Probably.

Then Holly just dumps her daughter on her. That’s where the summer gets weird. Jessica walks in like trouble in short shorts, that mix of brat and lonely girl, the kind where you know she’s going to push every line because nobody’s watching her close enough. The game really leans into that slow-burn teasing. First it’s small stuff. Liz catching Jessica lying on the couch, legs open a bit too wide, phone in hand, watching some guy rail a girl on Pornhub with the volume almost off but not quite. You have this tiny choice: pretend you didn’t hear the moans or make a joke that is way too adult for an “aunt.” Both feel bad in a good way. And because it uses multiple protagonist, you jump into Jessica’s head after that scene and realize she noticed the stare, liked it, and then goes to her room to masturbate with her earphones in, replaying that half-second of eye contact.

The game’s sex content is filthy in a slow, adult way, not just “click to see boobs.” You get lesbian tension between Liz and some older MILF customer who comes in for “help with sizing” and very obviously wants Liz on her knees between the dresses rack. There’s this oral scene in the stockroom with a Black delivery guy that hits that interracial porn energy without turning him into a stupid caricature, which surprised me. Liz acts like it’s a one-time mistake and then checks the delivery schedule twice a day. At the same time, you might push her toward cheating in a more emotional way: late-night messages, hand under the table scenes, her rubbing her thighs together when her “partner” sends her a dick pic during a family dinner. Sometimes the cheating is only in her head, sometimes you fully go for it and watch her swallow and then go home like nothing happened.

And Jessica isn’t just some side prop. When you play from her POV, she’s got all this pent-up bi curiosity. The way she looks at Liz is part “aunt” and part “woman with big ass who clearly knows how to fuck,” which is… yeah. There’s a sequence where Jessica borrows Liz’s blouse, doesn’t wear a bra, then does a little private stripping in Liz’s bedroom mirror, grinding on a pillow, imagining Liz walking in. You can later nudge the story so that Liz actually does walk in during a different “accident” and the look they share is way hotter than half of the full-on sex scenes. That’s the good stuff. And the office scenes, holy shit. Doing boring stock numbers on a laptop while there’s a vibrator inside, trying to stay professional on a video call while clenching? It hits different when the character is a businesswoman who’s supposed to act all proper. I wish the phone UI in-game wasn’t so clunky, notifications sometimes pop in weird timing and broke my mood once, but then Liz bent over to pick something and her skirt rode up and my brain just deleted the complaint.

By the time lesbian scenes start to properly bloom, like Liz and a regular customer sharing wine after closing time in the fitting room, slow kissing, one hand under the shirt, one between thighs, licking like they’ve been thinking about it since the first discount coupon, it feels earned. Not rushed. And when the game flips back to Jessica alone in her room, watching lesbian porn on her phone, trying to match the rhythm, moaning into the pillow so Liz doesn’t hear… that contrast is nasty in the best way. Nothing in this story feels safe. People are always one drink, one late shift, one “accidental” touch on the big tits away from blowing up their boring lives. It’s that quiet tension of a long summer where everyone is horny, pretending they’re not, while the clothing store, the house, even the fitting rooms feel like they’re soaked in sex already.