It’s messy in the best way. You’re some kind of half-drunk alchemist in a vampire’s den, tossing glowing ingredients into a cauldron that looks suspiciously alive, waiting to see if it spits out gold, slime, or a moaning succubus with tits like forbidden fruit. The game doesn’t explain much, just lets you mix weird shit - holy water, demon ichor, maybe a drop of your own sweat - and then bam, the screen flashes and suddenly you’re staring at a futa nun grinding against a bound werewolf priest. It’s ridiculous, but you can’t stop clicking. The logic makes no sense and that’s kind of the point. Sometimes you get a soft scene, a slow kiss between a vampire girl and her human pet. Other times, tentacles, everywhere, like the game’s trying to outdo itself in how far it’ll go before you blush or laugh.

There’s something about the tone - half gothic, half horny fever dream - that makes it feel like the devs were just daring each other to see what the next transmutation would unlock. The art shifts between elegant and unhinged; one moment you’re admiring the lighting on a pale thigh, next you’re staring at a corrupted angel with too many wings and not enough shame. The alchemy system feels more like foreplay than crafting. You think you’re mixing for power, but really you’re just chasing the next perverse reveal. I tried to keep track of the endings but gave up after the third one involved a talking dildo that might’ve been sentient.

The weirdest part? It’s kind of beautiful. Between the absurd fetishes and over-the-top transformations, there’s this pulse of dark humor and lust that keeps it alive. It’s not about winning or finishing - it’s about curiosity, that itch that says “what if I mix blood and holy oil again?” Do it. The game rewards the reckless.

Yuu looks like one of those quiet types you’d never notice in a crowd, but that’s the trick, isn’t it? The game doesn’t start with fireworks or any fancy menu music - it just drops you right into his head. You can almost feel how tense he is around Misaki, his little sister who’s too innocent for the filth swirling around her. It’s that kind of story where every click feels heavier than it should, because one wrong choice and things slide from tender to completely fucked-up. And they do. You think you’re protecting her, then suddenly the camera lingers too long, she’s asleep, breathing soft, and your cursor hesitates. It’s not subtle about temptation. The voyeurism here is dirty in a way that makes you feel complicit, like you’re peeking through a crack in a door you shouldn’t have opened.

The animation hits that weirdly realistic zone - not uncanny, just raw enough to make the moans stick in your ears. There’s this one scene where Yuu’s hand trembles before touching her thigh, and the sound design makes it worse, or better, depending on what you came for. When the blackmail angle kicks in, everything starts looping back: guilt, lust, anger, repeat. Some endings hit harder than expected - one actually made me shut my phone for a minute. Then I went back anyway. The multiple paths don’t feel like “good” or “bad” endings, more like different shades of corruption. You’ll probably hate yourself a bit, which is exactly why it works.

Weird thing - the romance thread actually lands emotionally once or twice, like when Misaki whispers his name during the sleep scene, half-awake, half-aware. It’s messed up and strangely intimate. You won’t find polished heroes or tidy morals here, just a slow descent wrapped in warm skin and bad decisions. Dare to play it alone, or invite company?

The first time I logged into this thing, I didn’t even care about the classes or whatever plot it pretends to have - the way the avatars breathe, the tiny tremor in their lips before a kiss, that’s what got me. It’s like the devs poured all their soul into making skin look touchable. There’s this one girl in a half-armored cosplay outfit, silver hair glowing like some digital eclipse, and when she leans close, her breath fogs your screen. Maybe I imagined that, but hell, it felt real. The sci-fi cities behind her hum like they’re alive, something between a nightclub and a dream you shouldn’t be having. The game doesn’t shout about its mechanics, but when you figure out how to sync movement and body sensors, it’s almost too much - like your nerves are being rewritten to crave every vibration.

Sometimes the story pretends to be about mystery - a missing player, a corrupted zone - but nobody’s really fooling anyone. The real puzzle is how long you can last before giving in to pure heat. The VR immersion slips between sweet and filthy faster than your mind can keep up; one moment you’re chatting with a student NPC about history, next she’s on her knees, glasses sliding down, eyes wide like she’s learning anatomy for the first time. There’s group stuff too, awkward at first until it’s not. Someone mentioned modders replaced the background drones with moaning echoes; I laughed until it happened in my session and I swear it made everything feel more chaotic and alive. The music, though? Too clean. Needs something grittier, maybe a heartbeat instead of these sterile synths.

I still can’t get over the fact that clothing physics act like they’ve got personalities - skirts that refuse to stay where they should, latex that remembers your touch. You can taste the future here, but it’s messy and dripping and maybe a bit too honest. Every time I log out, reality feels thinner, like a veil that won’t settle right.

FSS Lamashtu feels like somebody mashed up a cold war naval thriller with a filthy space brothel and then forgot which part was supposed to be serious. You’re the freshly minted captain of this “experimental cruiser” that is absolutely not built for exploration, unless you count exploring how many holes your crew can take in a single patrol. Officially it’s the proud weapon of the Alliance, last hope in a long-ass war. Unofficially it’s your floating fuck-lab, staffed with officers who look like they came out of a horny AI art generator after you typed “war crime but sexy” too many times. The ship layout screen is almost a character by itself: bridge, medbay, cargo, those little tucked-away compartments you quickly learn are perfect for “private disciplinary sessions.” You jump between menus pretending to care about fleet orders, but the only thing you actually remember is which corridor you cornered that technician in when she kept “accidentally” brushing her giant tits against you.

The story likes to pretend it’s about geopolitics and rebellion, and sometimes it even tricks you. You’ll get this long briefing about the Neo-Terran strategic line, convoy raids, morale of the Alliance, all that stuff. Then two clicks later, you’re watching a proud enemy pilot on her knees, mascara running, mouth full of cum while she tries to spit out her rank and serial number. The tone whiplash is almost funny. There’s a certain charm in how the game refuses to pick a lane: you capture prisoners, you break them in slowly or just slam straight into collar-and-chain slavery, you’re supposed to feel the “moral weight” of it, but the next scene has them begging for anal like they read the script ahead of time. The AI CG does that exaggerated wetness thing, where every hole looks like you dumped a bucket of lube on it, and every creampie is this ridiculous white flood that should qualify as a bio-weapon. Sometimes the faces twist into that extreme, over-the-top ahegao that doesn’t even look human anymore, more like a melted idol poster, and it somehow fits this world where war propaganda and porn have fused into one genre.

What sticks in my mind most is how physical the ship starts to feel. You’re not just choosing sex options, you’re shaping routines. That science officer who starts with stiff posture and carefully zipped uniform? A few “private evaluations” in your quarters, and suddenly she’s walking around with visible bite marks on her neck, trying not to react when you casually grope her in front of others. There’s a scene in the hangar where two captured enemy girls are supposed to be processed for interrogation, and you can decide if that means basic questions or “group demonstration of Alliance hospitality.” The way their bodies are posed, covered in semen from multiple angles, has that bukkake ritual vibe, everyone participating because the war needs “unity.” You get toy usage too, not just as accessories but as tools of control: a vibrator left inside during a formal strategy meeting, the slow dawning horror on your new slave’s face when she realizes the remote is in your pocket while admirals talk about casualties. The game never really resolves whether you’re a genius commander or just a sex-obsessed tyrant who got lucky with experimental hardware. At some point there’s a tender-ish lesbian moment tucked awkwardly between brutal scenes, two crew girls comforting each other after a mission, fingers exploring, tongues slow and hesitant, and for once you’re not in the frame at all. It feels almost like the game forgot its own premise for a second, then remembers, throws you back into forced deepthroat in a dark interrogation room, and moves on like nothing happened.