I opened Trapfield Hotel expecting cheap jokes, like the kind plastered over the usual porn-jam games that think one good tit jiggle equals writing. But this thing, weirdly, has personality - it doesn’t *care* if you laugh, moan, cringe, or all three. The first scene drops you right into the lobby, naked ego and literal everything else hanging out, and a boss who’s so tall and cocky she might as well have wings. She flirts in that half-mocking way that makes you forget it’s just text on a screen. It’s hot, but not sterile-hot. Like it’s someone smirking behind the monitor, teasing you, waiting for you to mess up your dialogue choice so she can make you regret it with a slap or a forced smile or - well, you can imagine.

Half the time I was laughing though. There’s this bit where you’re delivering towels, and the towel cart bumps into a femboy maid whose breasts bounce like they’re trying to escape gravity. He apologizes three times, blushes, and still finds a way to drag you into the staff room for “training.” The game just *leans* into that ridiculous energy, and somehow it works. It’s obscene and dumb and kind of brilliant. It’s like the dev watched a hundred hentai parodies and then decided to make one that actually feels alive, with just enough self-awareness that it never becomes boring.

Not everything hits - sometimes the dialogue repeats itself, and one room scene had lighting that looked like a fever dream, but maybe that’s on purpose; it kinda fits the corruption tone, like the hotel itself is drunk. The whole thing swings between dominance and submission faster than I can decide who’s winning. I caught myself rooting for the protagonist, then laughing when the milf receptionist literally turned him into her pet for forgetting to clock in. It’s chaotic, wet, over-the-top, and somehow honest, like it knows exactly what kind of filth it’s serving and invites you to enjoy how messy that is. Nothing polished, nothing polite, just raw kink with a wink.

You start as the new star on campus, all eyes glued to you before you even make a shot. The gym smells like sweat and ambition, but that’s not what gets your pulse up. It’s the way she looks at you - your stepmother, or maybe just “mom” in name only - her curves wrapped tight in silk that doesn’t belong anywhere near family dinners. The game doesn’t waste time pretending it’s about basketball. It’s about temptation, power, and how quickly both can slip through your fingers when every woman around you wants to see how far you’ll go. One minute you’re practicing free throws, the next you’re pressed against the locker room wall, her breath hot on your neck while she whispers things that shouldn’t sound so good coming from her mouth.

The world here feels too real sometimes. Every touch has weight, every moan sounds like someone losing control for real. Even the smaller moments - like catching your roommate’s girlfriend watching you change, or the dean’s wife brushing her thigh against yours during a meeting - carry this slow, electric tension that builds until it breaks. And when it breaks, it’s messy. Hands gripping, tongues exploring, skin slick with sweat. You’ll find yourself caught between guilt and hunger more than once, especially when the story starts twisting into places you didn’t expect: voyeurism that turns mutual, cheating that doesn’t feel wrong anymore, and those scenes where everyone ends up tangled together, gasping, laughing, covered in each other.

It’s not shy about what it is. The animation lingers too long on trembling lips, on the soft give of flesh, on the little noises people make when they forget they’re being watched. Sometimes it’s tender, sometimes filthy, sometimes both in the same second. You’ll think you’re in control, choosing who to seduce, but the game keeps pulling you deeper, making you question whether you’re chasing love, lust, or just the thrill of being wanted by everyone at once.

I didn’t expect the opening scene to slap that hard. You’re just standing there, half-broken hull around you, half-naked angel girl trying to look dignified while her collar blinks red every few seconds like some sick metronome. The captain walks in, voice like a bad radio signal, and you already know he’s going to be trouble. He touches her shoulder and - bam - your gut twists, not from shock, but from that weird cocktail of jealousy and arousal that this game keeps feeding you. It’s dirty, but not in the lazy way. The camera lingers too long, like it’s daring you to blink first. I didn’t. The whole thing plays out like someone’s fever dream of power and guilt and skin. Makes you feel complicit, which I kinda like. Some games treat voyeurism like a kink checkbox; this one makes it feel like a confession.

Then there’s that sequence in the maintenance bay - god, the lighting there. Blue flicker off the coolant pipes, the hum of half-dead machinery, and she’s there again, pretending not to notice you. The teasing is mean, but not cartoonishly so. She leans over, the slave tag glinting on her neck, and you can almost smell the metal. I won’t say the animation’s perfect - it isn’t - but it stumbles in a way that feels almost human. The moans don’t line up sometimes, and that somehow makes it better. You start thinking about the morality system that never really punishes you enough, about how the captain’s wives don’t even care you’re stealing glances, and then suddenly there’s a flashback about the fall of the Geniorcracy and I kind of stop caring about lore entirely. Maybe it matters, maybe not. What kept me there was that slow burn humiliation mixed with tenderness, like someone whispering “you’re disgusting” but softly.

Anyway, the soundtrack’s too clean, too polished - like it doesn’t belong in that filth. And I swear one of the sound cues is stolen from some old dating sim on Nutaku. Doesn’t matter. By the time the angel finally looks you in the eye, you’ve already forgotten what you were supposed to be doing.

Anna looks like that person you see in the subway who already gave up on the day before 9 in the morning. Gray office, gray boss, gray everything, with the one bright spot being Lucy spamming her phone with stupid memes and soft kisses through text. That feeling when your life is dying slowly but your girl sends you a selfie in elf ears and a tiny bikini and suddenly your whole body goes “oh”. That’s where this game lives, in that dirty little spark between “I love her” and “I kinda want to ruin this”.

Stuff escalates fast once Lucy sends those cosplay photos. They aren’t just cute. They’re horny as hell, and not just because her chest is almost falling out of the costume. There’s this guy, Sig123, always right there in frame, just off to the side, a hand on her hip, a shadow leaning in, and the game keeps shoving his presence in your face without shouting it. One shot has his fingers holding the zipper on her back, another is his lap visible under her as she sits “for the pose”. You’re Anna, looking through Lucy’s gallery, pretending it’s fine, scrolling, zooming in on small details like lipstick slightly smudged or her eyes not looking at the camera, and your brain just starts writing its own porn fanfic you never asked for. Suddenly you’re jerking off to the idea of your own girlfriend being shared, and you hate it, and you also click “next” again.

What I liked is that it doesn’t treat cheating like a simple switch. It starts with these harmless POV fantasies, like you jerk off in the office bathroom imagining Lucy on her knees in that cosplay, but the angle is wrong, and then you realize in your head it’s not you she’s looking up at. That little snap in your stomach? The game leans on that. One moment you’re watching a soft lesbian scene between Anna and Lucy, lazy morning tongues and bed hair, and the next you’re rewatching a clip of Lucy “just rehearsing” a group photoshoot concept and suddenly there are extra hands and extra mouths and you can’t tell if it’s real footage or something Anna is imagining over the top of it. It blurs porn and memory. Or maybe I was just horny and overthinking, but it felt like that.

There’s a nice little cruelty in how often it sticks you in first person while everyone else ignores your feelings. You get POV scenes that should feel loving, Lucy riding you slow, ahegao face way too much for a couple that’s “just having a normal night”, and instead of feeling romantic it starts to look like she’s practicing for someone else. Later, when the group sex stuff hits, you kinda recognize moves she did with you, and that stings in a hot way. At one point, there is this cosplay orgy sequence where Anna is half participating, half watching Lucy get passed around, and it plays it almost casual: a tongue between her legs here, someone gripping Lucy’s hair there, your girlfriend moaning another person’s name, and the camera just lingers like it’s your eyes trying not to blink. The lesbian bits are not some side fetish either, they’re the emotional knife. Two women who clearly care about each other, then one of them slowly getting addicted to attention, to cameras, to being used like a prop while the other discovers she likes the idea of her girl as a public toy way too much. It’s messy, horny, a little mean, sometimes too exaggerated with the faces, but in that way where you roll your eyes and still keep clicking because you want to see just how far Lucy will go before Anna snaps, or worse, before Anna starts directing the whole fucked up show herself.