The first thing that hits you is the grain. Not film grain, not a filter, but that specific digital noise from a webcam that's been running too long in a dim room. Inspector J doesn't try to hide it. Eve sits there, fidgeting with the strap of her top, and the whole thing feels less like a game and more like stumbling onto a private video call you shouldn't be watching.

You're a detective, supposedly. Jeanne's gone missing, and Eve knows something. The interrogation, if you can call it that, is just you clicking through dialogue options while she squirms. The real model tag isn't lying, it's just a woman in her apartment, acting coy. She'll tell you about the affair with Jeanne's boyfriend, but only if you ask the right way. Or the wrong way. Depends on your badge, I guess. The striptease comes in fragments, a reward for pushing past her lies. She'll stand up, turn around, and the camera stays fixed, unblinking. You can't move it. You're stuck with her framing, her pace. It's frustrating. I spent too long trying to get her to just take off the damn top already, clicking the same prompt three times like an idiot.

There's a moment where she leans close to the lens, whispering something about the night Jeanne disappeared, and her breath fogs the screen. Actually fogs it. I leaned back in my chair. The video quest part is thin, barely a puzzle. You just exhaust the chat tree until she gives you the next scene. But that fog. That was something. The whole investigation is a pretext, obviously. You're not here to solve a case. You're here because Eve knows you're watching, and she's deciding how much to show. The audio cuts out for a split second during one reveal, a glitch that felt accidental but probably wasn't. Wish there was more to actually do with the clues she drops. But there won't be. That's not the point of this.