Reality show from hell, that’s kind of the vibe here. Not the goofy Netflix stuff where everyone cries in the confessional, more like “what if Big Brother was run by someone who jerks off to cruelty and power trips.” You’re the new guy thrown into this locked-down futuristic house, cameras everywhere, no privacy, and twenty-something horny, scared, fucked‑up contestants pretending they’re here for fame while everyone knows deep down they’re being used like meat. It’s all bright lights and fake smiles on the surface, but a few scenes in you start to feel the rot. People get “eliminated” and it’s not just some walk-of-shame to a taxi. The showrunners treat bodies as props. Holes as content. Consent as a slider they can turn off whenever ratings need a boost.

Since I’m into voice work, I went in listening more than watching at first. The moans and gasps during those “teasing” scenes where the girls rub against the MC in the communal bedroom while the others pretend to sleep? That shit feels way too real. There is this one sleep sex moment that actually made me stop and replay, because her breathing shifts so slowly, from deep sleep to confused whimper, then to this reluctant arousal when he pushes her panties aside and starts fingering her under the sheet, while the cameras zoom in and the producers whisper in your ear through the UI, basically encouraging you to keep going. No cartoonish screaming, it’s awkward, wet, quiet. A little uncomfortable. Actually more than a little, and that’s sort of the point here. Same with the blackmail scenes: they use old sex clips, private files, nudes, all that, to force a shy girl to join a group sex “challenge” with guys of different races on live feed, and the MC can either back off or lean into it. When you go with it, the mix of humiliation and arousal in her voice is kind of insane. She’s choking on cock, trying to say “stop” and “keep going” in the same breath. It’s sick, and it’s hot, and I kind of hate myself for liking it.

The sci‑fi / dystopia flavor sits in the background like a bad smell. Futuristic collars, shock systems, drugged drinks served after every elimination, some AI host that sounds almost friendly while pushing the contestants into anal, double penetration and messy creampie “competitions” that feel like twisted party games. There’s interracial and swinging stuff that actually feels like it belongs there, because the show is clearly trying to mix as many bodies and skin tones as possible for the “audience,” not for the characters. At one point they chain a couple to a wall and have other contestants jerk them off in turns while the floor slowly fills with water and blood from the last “test” in the next room, like a porno Saw ripoff that actually commits to the idea. The sound design sells it: wet slaps, muffled cries, someone laughing in the control room, you can hear a mic crackle when one girl is forced into anal while another guy is already buried in her pussy, so you get this rough, overlapping breathing that makes it feel way more chaotic than the usual porn game rhythm. And yeah, it’s all 3D models doing vaginal, oral, anal, the whole package, but I kept coming back to the way they react. Tiny “fuck” under their breath when you push too deep. Nervous giggle before a forced blowjob. That stuff hits my VA brain. The violence goes hard, too: broken noses, bruised throats after rough throat-fucking, someone getting beaten because they refused a group scene, then later you see them again, limping, still used as a toy. Sometimes the MC is just another predator in the system, sometimes he feels trapped with them. The game doesn’t really care what kind of person you are, as long as you keep playing along with its nasty little show.

You wake up broke, horny, and back in your old room that still smells a bit like teenage shame and cheap body spray, and the game just kind of grins and says, “yeah, this is where it starts.” You’re this young psychology guy who thought he had life sorted, then it all collapses and you crawl back to mom’s house. Only mom isn’t just “mom” anymore. She’s this thick, soft, dangerous kind of beautiful, the kind that makes your eyes slide over her curves against your will. She walks around the house in clothes that hug her huge tits and that insane ass in a way no actual mother should, bending over the couch while you pretend to look away and fail every single time. The camera loves her, almost too much. It lingers on the subtle stuff, the underwear line digging into her hips, the way her nipple outline threatens to show when she moves. You’re supposed to feel guilty. You don’t. Or you do, but it just makes your dick harder. It’s that kind of story.

Then there are the sisters, and yeah, the game knows exactly what it’s doing. The older one moves like a witch who realized she can control a room just by existing. Goth clothes, dark nails that look like they’d hurt when she scratches your back, eyes that tell you she thinks you’re trash but her body keeps betraying her, slower each day. There’s this moment where you “accidentally” walk in while she’s bent over her desk in fishnets, headphones in, skirt just not quite long enough, and the main character just stands there too long while you feel his thoughts going places they absolutely shouldn’t. Later, when the hypnosis angle really kicks in, watching her resist you with this mix of hatred and arousal, hips still grinding in spite of her words, that’s where the corruption hits harder than any sex scene. She spits insults while she rides your cock, then trembles when you ask her who owns that tight ass now, and her voice breaks on the answer. It’s fucked up. It’s hot. It’s both at once. The younger sister is the opposite weather: all pastel pink, soft hair, candy wrappers, plush toys, girly socks that should not look so good wrapped around your waist. She trusts you way too much. She curls against you during a movie, her small tits brushing your arm, and the game slows the moment just enough that you feel that sharp, dirty edge when your hand lingers longer than it should on her thigh. Later, with the mind control, teaching her to touch herself on command, watching her bite her lip while she obeys, that’s the point where “romance” and “corruption” almost merge into this twisted little love story that you’re not sure you’re supposed to enjoy so much.

The hypnotherapist is the real doorway drug. Mom’s friend, older but still tight where it counts, eyes that see too much and voice that rolls over you like warm honey. You sit in her office as “assistant,” pretending to take notes while she drops other women into deep trance, fingers playing with their minds and their bodies at the same time, and you’re there, hard under the desk, memorizing every word, every pattern. There’s a point when she leans down behind a patient and guides the girl’s mouth on a toy, whispering triggers, and your brain just goes click. After that, going home feels different. Sleeping bodies don’t feel safe anymore. The game leans into sleep sex in a way that’s almost too intimate. Like, you stand over your mom’s bed at night, listening to her slow breathing, watching her tits rise and fall under the thin fabric, and one tiny suggestion you planted earlier makes her legs spread a little. She mumbles your name in her sleep while you slide your hand under her panties and the guilt is there, but it’s distant, like a voice behind glass. Same with the sisters, those late-night scenes where the younger one is half-asleep, squirming and moaning softly as your fingers tease her soaked slit, or the older one clenching around your cock in her sleep, cursing you in her dreams while her body begs for more. The game doesn’t flinch from that dirty intimacy. It loves deepthroats that go too far, tears at the corner of her eyes, spit and mascara mess. It loves big tits bouncing while you fuck them, cocks sliding between them until you paint her chest white. It loves asses, god, the asses: thick ebony hips, mom’s juicy milf curves, your sister’s perfect goth bubble butt stretched around your shaft when you finally push into her tight hole and she squirts all over the sheets. Anal, vaginal, titfucks, creampies that drip out slowly while she walks around the house pretending nothing happened. Sex toys buzzing between thighs, collars and ropes appearing on the “good girl” routes that still somehow pretend to be romantic. There’s a weird tenderness under all that filth too, like when you watch your own cum slowly swell inside a belly on the pregnancy scenes, or when a character you’ve completely twisted still smiles at you like you’re her whole world. It’s wrong. It’s beautiful in a fucked way. It feels like you’re building a harem out of people who were once your family, your patients, your lovers, turning them into obedient, wet puppets and devoted partners at the same time, and the game just lets you keep going, deeper, softer, nastier, never really asking you to justify any of it. I just wish the text messages inside the game didn’t use that ugly default pop-up style, it pulls you out for a second, but then somebody drops to their knees, takes you so deep they choke, and suddenly you forget you were annoyed at all.

I didn’t expect to laugh this much during what’s basically a porn game about rebuilding civilization with your dick, but here we are. “Dickcare” doesn’t even pretend to have subtlety, which somehow makes it better. It’s like the dev looked at every crossover hentai fantasy - Velma squinting behind foggy glasses, Raven pretending she’s not into it, Tatsumaki rolling her eyes while secretly moaning - and said, yeah, let’s just throw them all in one ruined world and call it salvation. The writing’s half self-aware and half deranged sincerity; the voice lines swing between awkwardly horny and genuinely funny. There’s one scene with Frankie in a busted gym locker room that made me pause, not because it was hot (though it is), but because she calls you “hero” in this weird soft tone right before things get messy. It stays in your head longer than expected.

What’s wild is how much *sound* adds to everything. You can tell someone cared about the way a zipper slides down or the slap echoing off concrete walls. The sandbox part? Looser than it sounds. You wander, talk, get distracted by some zombie side plot that doesn’t matter, and suddenly Velma’s stuck halfway through a ventilation shaft. It’s ridiculous, yeah, but also... kind of perfect. There’s no grind, no fake moral choice. Just dirty, absurd freedom. Though, I swear one moaning loop cuts off too early - it’s such a small glitch but now I obsess over it. Maybe that’s the point: perfection would ruin the charm.

It’s funny how a game full of cum jokes and cartoon parodies ends up feeling more alive than most serious stuff. Maybe because it doesn’t care if you take it seriously. One minute you’re saving humanity, next you’re wiping something off Raven’s cape while she pretends not to blush. If there were awards for “Most Unnecessarily Emotional Cum Scene,” this one wins without competition.

Doctor Doom down bad is honestly a whole mood. In this thing he is not the cool comic book villain planning galaxy brain strategies, he is basically a horny bastard who lost everything and now crawls back up by breaking girls one by one. You start small, like some sleazy trainer that somehow still thinks in monologues from Shakespeare, then bit by bit you are twisting minds, ruining heroes, and turning half the Marvel city into your personal sex zoo. The witch Ratri shows up, gives him this Dominium power that lets him push into people’s heads, and from there it is just corruption porn all the way down. You go from “please don’t touch me” to “yes master, more” with a few clicks and some dirty little scenes that feel like reading a fucked up comic scan you definitely should not have on your phone at work but you do anyway.

What really hit me is how the girls are not just random nobodies. It is all the ones I crushed on when I was younger and scrolling through fanart on DeviantArt like a creep. Susan Storm acting all proper at first, then doing anal in a cheap motel because Doom pushed just the right mental button. Black Widow trying to be stoic super spy while she is on her knees, gagging on his cock, pretending she still has control. Firestar going from bright hero to street-level whore, selling her body off because you nudged her into prostitution and then watched the gangbang through some camera like a full on voyeur. One playthrough I had Jessica Jones drunk, swearing at Doom while he has her hands tied, using her anyway, mixing that rough *** fantasy with this bitter, sad energy that honestly hit me way harder than I expected in a porn game. You flick between almost playful teasing, like a handjob under the table while the Fantastic Four are in the same room, to ugly stuff like blackmail, mind control, and using them as slaves, and the game never stops to ask if you are a good person. It just shrugs and says “you clicked it, bro.”

Sometimes the pacing is weird and the point and click stuff makes me feel like an idiot, hunting for the one pixel that actually progresses the scene while Doom is supposed to be this genius. One time I spent ages trying to trigger a Madame Hydra event and ended up stuck with Lucia von Bardas and some half-finished blowjob loop that made me want to throw my phone. The animations are janky in spots, yet then you hit a sequence with Silk stripping, tongue out, stroking him with her ass, and suddenly you forget every complaint. Delila and Mockingbird show up and I swear the game just kind of laughs at continuity, but whatever, they get naked, they get corrupted, they get used. There is this one voyeurism bit where you watch Mary Jane and Black Cat fool around while Doom just toys with them like dolls, then later you drag them into full swinging and they do it because you rewired them, not because they wanted it. If you are lonely and horny and a little broken, the whole thing feels like someone dipped your Marvel crushes in gasoline and lit a match. It is trashy, cruel, weirdly funny, and sometimes I hate myself while clicking, but I still keep going back, like Doom himself learning nothing at all.