Ben is supposed to be the lucky survivor kid that comes back home after being gone, but honestly he feels more like a loaded gun somebody forgot on the kitchen table. He crashes on this messed up magic island, gets picked up by a witch doctor who treats “therapy” like torture mixed with sex education and combat drills, then strolls back into normal suburb house life pretending he doesn’t remember shit. Not because he actually forgot, but because that island is basically a pornified god glitch with monsters, spirit bullshit, and power that turns people crazy. So he fakes amnesia, does the polite traumatized boy act, and then the game quietly starts poking at every line you thought it would respect.

The house is where it really hits. Rachel as adoptive mom is that slow-burn headache. She’s warm, too warm, leans in too close, touches his arm too long, falls asleep on the couch in those thin shorts like she forgot he’s not twelve anymore. The game loves to push Ben into those micro moments. You’re standing behind her in the kitchen, watching her reach for something high, shirt riding up, and the UI is asking if you heal her old injury with magic or “accidentally” brush your hand where you shouldn’t. It’s not nice, it’s not healthy, it’s fucking hot. And then it slaps mental health in your face by having Ben wake up sweaty, hearing island drums in his head like a PTSD ringtone while he’s half hard from dreaming about her. Jessica is different chaos. She’s the “normal” one who isn’t normal at all, always teasing, sitting with her legs open just enough to notice, sending you those Instagram thirst traps from the next room like it’s a joke. There’s this one scene where she drags you to her room “to help with homework” and suddenly the camera angle is all about that barely covered ass while she bends over the bed. You can play innocent, you can peek, or you can use a tiny twist of mind control to make her forget how long your eyes stayed there. That little power turns every simple walk through the hallway into a corruption puzzle.

What really fucked with me is how the game keeps pretending it’s about “protecting the world” while letting you slowly rot from the inside. The witch doctor’s voice pops in sometimes, like an evil conscience, reminding you that sex can be a ritual, that feeding your urges might actually make your magic stronger. Then you get scenes with monsters that are less “fight or flight” and more “fight or fuck” and suddenly you’re not sure if you’re the hero or just a horny shaman with mommy issues. There’s a combat bit in the alley at night, where some paranormal creep tries to blackmail you after catching you watching your neighbors through the window. You can blast him with elemental magic, or twist his mind till he thinks he’s the pervert who started it and you walk away clean. That mixture of voyeurism, blackmail, and power fantasy hits different when Ben is smiling softly while lying to everyone, including himself. Zara shows up like the hot demon guidance counselor, offering “help” with his blocked memories and then sliding her hand down his chest as she describes the island tearing reality open. She wants the secrets, the rifts, the raw corruption, and she’s ready to spread her legs or someone else’s to get it. Group scenes feel like rituals gone wrong. People are moaning, bodies tangled, and in the background there’s this feeling that something is watching, that the island is feeding off all that sex. One moment you’re in a tender almost-romance with Rachel on the sofa, her head on your shoulder, the next you’re knee-deep in a magical gangbang that might literally open a portal. The story acts like it cares about Ben’s guilt and mental state, then hands you a teasing choice like “comfort her” or “possess her mind for a while” and both options feel right for different disgusting reasons. Watching him flirt between sweet, scared boy and cold, dominant bastard made me feel like I was doing character research and jacking off at the same time, which is exactly as fucked up as it sounds.

You’re 21, fresh out of uni, brain full of half-broken dreams and porn tabs, alone in a tiny place that looks more like a temporary save file than a real home. No job, no plan, no clue. Just a bed, a phone, and this weird feeling that whatever girl walks through your life next is basically a glitch in the code that will push you in some fucked up direction forever. This game leans hard into that idea. It isn’t trying to be “romantic” in the vanilla Netflix way. It feels more like fate dragging you by the collar through kinks you never admitted out loud, while you keep telling yourself “yeah, I can stop anytime” and then obviously you don’t. You start as this regular, kinda lost guy, but the story quietly puts you in spots where you’re kneeling, begging, turned on, confused, all of it layered, like when you’re scrolling Pornhub and suddenly your recommended list is just one big accusation.

The girls are not just checklists of tags, they’re like different corrupt routes for your soul. Tangent shows up like a walking red flag, the kind of woman you’d swear you should avoid, and then you end up refreshing Telegram waiting for her next message anyway. She treats you like a toy she already owns, plays with your ego, talks down to you while she has you licking her clean after she uses your face, or makes you hold still while she rides your cock and casually insults how pathetic you look. One moment she gives you a handjob so slow you want to scream, staring right in your eyes like she can read every dirty thought, then next scene she has a plug in your ass and your dick throbbing untouched, calling it “training” like this is some sacred destiny instead of her just having fun. Humiliation here isn’t just chat text, it’s in tiny moments, like her making you thank her for letting you cum, right after she slapped you for asking. And yeah, there’s titjobs and oral and all the classic stuff, but the way she paces it, like she’s tuning your brain, makes it feel less like porn and more like a long, slow hack of your identity.

Then the story swerves. Penny slides in from a totally different angle, all soft colors and weird comfort, like those TikToks that look wholesome until you read the comments. The tone drops into this messed up “innocent” vibe that obviously isn’t innocent, and suddenly sex toys feel more like props in a role you’re not sure you chose. You’re supposed to be the adult, but scenes twist it so you’re the one who needs control taken away, who gets told what to wear, when to touch yourself, when not to. There’s this one part where you finish in a way that should feel normal, just basic vaginal sex, thrusting, her moaning in your ear, your hands on her hips, and then the aftermath turns it sideways with one line of dialogue that makes you realize you’re not the one writing your own story at all. Natalie isn’t any softer. She just attacks your gender, your pride, your whole idea of “what kind of man I am” and pokes it until it bends. She might start with a blowjob that feels like a reward, sloppy, spit running down your shaft, eye contact that burns, then a few scenes later she’s got you dressed up, sitting pretty, dick hard and useless, while she teases you with a vibrator and jokes about how you were never much of a “real guy” anyway. The thing with this game is that every route pretends it’s just a bit of kinky fun, but then you look back and realize each girl quietly edited a part of you, like fate didn’t give you choices, only different flavors of surrender.

Game hits you with a gut punch right in the menu. You’re this 25-year-old guy who already had his “happily ever after” and then it just gets ripped away from him. No heroic bullshit, no magical fix, he’s a wreck. First scenes are him looking like a zombie, barely functioning, and I liked that they don’t sugarcoat it. He’s numb, he’s angry, he drinks too much, he makes bad choices, sometimes you just click through like “yeah, I’ve seen this guy on Discord at 4% battery and 0% will to live.” And then, in the middle of all that, the game suddenly drops this tall blonde girl in a tight sport uniform with a ridiculous ass and you realize, okay, this is not just depression simulator, there is definitely some cock therapy incoming. Her tits look heavy in that jersey, jiggle a bit when she leans forward, and I swear the dev has a personal obsession with thighs, because the way those shorts ride up when she stretches before practice? That’s where 30% of my saves went. I kept quicksaving right before dialogue choices just to see how slutty or tender that same scene could go, like switching between two different timelines where you’re either a broken puppy or a horny asshole who still somehow gets rewarded.

Thing is, the sex doesn’t happen in a vacuum. You can feel the main guy still carrying all that grief into every scene. There’s a moment on the bleachers where she’s straddling him, sport top pushed up just enough to show those big tits bouncing while she jerks him off under the night lights, and he suddenly spaces out, thinking of his dead lover, and you get this ugly mix of hard-on and guilt. It’s hot and uncomfortable at the same time, which I kinda loved, even though at one point the pacing goes to shit because the game keeps stopping the dirty talk to drop another sad monologue. You get animated vaginal scenes where her ass fills the whole screen, cheeks slapping, sweat on her back, that little bounce in her ponytail while she rides him on the locker room bench, and then right after that they’re talking about addiction and suicide like you just didn’t have your dick in your hand twenty seconds earlier. The tonal whiplash is nuts. But the small stuff sticks with me: her fingers tightening on his shoulder when he finally thrusts up with some actual energy, her trying to hide how wet she is after “innocent” training, that one shot where the camera lingers too long on the curve of her hip as she walks away and you notice a tiny bruise from earlier practice. I hated how the text sometimes explains things I already get from the visuals, yet I kept playing, saving, loading, chasing slightly different ways to make this broken guy lose himself between her legs again, just to see if he looks a bit less dead inside when he finally comes.

RICO: Sin City feels like somebody took a GTA-style sandbox, smashed it together with a superhero cartoon marathon, then poured a whole lot of porn over the top and shook the bottle until the cap blew off. You’re this walking disaster of a criminal informant, technically “helping” the authorities, but mostly getting dragged through a city that’s completely fucked. Heroes are corrupt, villains are bored, random NPCs act like they escaped from ten different franchises at once, and everybody’s horny or violent or both. The game doesn’t really care about moral lines; it cares if you’re having fun bullying the city, jerking off in places you probably shouldn’t, and abusing whatever powers and contacts you collect. One moment I’m extorting some costumed idiot for intel, the next I’m getting head from a busty “heroine” on a rooftop while gunshots echo in the street and I’m thinking, yeah, this is probably not how justice works. The tone jumps from dumb gag to filthy sex to crime thriller and then back to meme-level stupidity in like three clicks, which somehow fits this world where nobody acts like an adult unless it’s about money or orgasms.

Sex scenes are where the game goes from “okay, this is funny” to “oh shit, my browser history is ruined forever.” There’s a lot of focus on big tits, big asses, and the kind of exaggerated bodies that look like they got patched in from a hentai subreddit. The girls move, jiggle, grind on your face, ride your dick and then pause mid-thrust to crack some dumb superhero reference that only makes sense if you grew up binging cartoons and reading fanfiction at school. Masturbation is everywhere too, not just as a side thing, but woven into the jokes and the story. Caught spying on a heroine changing in some crappy safehouse? Now your character is furiously jerking off in a dark alley like a degenerate, with the camera lingering way too long on his hand and the wet sounds. There are little animated touches when you blow a load over a costume or watch her stroke you off while pretending she’s doing “evidence handling.” It’s shameless and kinda proud of it. I had one encounter where I used superpowers to pin a criminal chick against a wall, watched her tits bounce under torn fabric, then the scene turned into this half-interrogation, half-fuck session that ended with her taunting me about snitching while still dripping my cum. That’s the vibe: nobody’s clean, everybody’s using everybody, and the game laughs at you for taking it too seriously. In between all the fucking and jerking, you’re doing petty crime errands, dumb superhero parodies, and crossing over with characters who feel “almost but not exactly” like people you’ve seen in other media, like the dev is daring some lawyer to notice. The pacing is like a drunk party: too loud in some corners, too slow in others, someone’s making out on the couch, someone’s stealing the TV, nobody knows who owns the house. And yeah, the UI pisses me off in this one little menu, but I’m still clicking back in like a raccoon digging in the same trash can every night, hoping for something filthier.