Raven wakes up in Lustein with the kind of hangover you get from reality itself, not from alcohol. She knows three things: her name, that she’s a witch, and that everyone around her is way too horny for a Tuesday that doesn’t even exist. The town looks like some fantasy RPG town you half remember from an old JRPG, but somebody replaced half the NPC dialogues with porn hub comments and cult propaganda. On one corner there’s a prim girl in a hood preaching purity, on the next there’s a slime girl casually jerking off a tentacle beast in an alley, and both scenes feel normal after about ten minutes. The game doesn’t even apologize for it. You walk Raven around, poke your nose into “investigations,” and every lead about the mysterious Order somehow slides into another sex scene, another shady deal, another monster with way too much cock for its own skeleton.

What I liked is that Raven isn’t written like some clueless virgin protagonist who “accidentally” falls on dick every five steps. At first she’s confused, guarded, trying to treat every encounter like a real case file. You’re choosing dialogue options, digging for clues, following rumors about disappearances and strange symbols, but half the clue-givers are masturbating behind curtains or peeping through keyholes when you arrive. The voyeur stuff sneaks up on you: you accept a “stakeout quest,” thinking you’ll watch a corrupt priest meet his contact, and suddenly you’re crouched behind a crate, watching him get absolutely flooded by his own acolytes in a holy-bukkake ritual that looks like a blasphemous version of a Klimt painting. You can stay hidden, stroke yourself with Raven’s gloved hand while the scene unfolds, or reveal yourself and twist the ritual to your own kind of magic. The game pretends it is about an investigation, but it is actually about how far you push her corruption, how much you let Lustein leak into her soul and underwear. There’s turn based combat, sure, but it’s the kind of combat that laughs at normal balance. You’re casting spells that bind tentacles, seduce bosses, or literally masturbate mid-battle to charge a corruption bar that works like mana and moral decay at the same time. An early battle with a raven-headed knight is still stuck in my head: the fight starts like normal, you exploit his weak point, suddenly his armor snaps away and what’s under it could never fit in that plate mail. You can finish him “properly” with fire and hexes, or stun him using a seduction stance that turns the screen into a slow striptease, then ride him until he swears fealty with a mouth full of your magic. There is this absurd tension between “I am saving this world” and “I am absolutely getting railed by it.”

The outfits are not just costumes; they feel like alternate timelines for Raven. You change from a modest witch dress into a shredded leather top and thigh-high boots, and the game quietly adjusts how people react. That prim Order nun earlier suddenly stops seeing you as possible recruit and starts looking at you like potential prey, cornering you later in a side chapel and suggesting “purification” that involves ropes, candles, and her tongue taking a pilgrimage between your legs. Another time I put Raven into a delicate, almost scholarly robe, and went to a monster-infested forest. Bad idea. The tentacle plants there literally respond differently, coiling around her as if they’ve found a rare flower and need to pollinate it from every angle. You’re given choices, but a lot of them feel like you’re only choosing how filthy things get, not if. One quest has you investigating rumors about a masked witch corrupting villagers. Plot twist: that witch is basically you from the future if you dive too far into the hentai logic of Lustein. Fighting her in turn-based battle is weirdly arousing and tragic: magic circles, mirrored incantations, her taunting you with what you will become, then pinning you down with living chains while she pours her “knowledge” into your mouth. The best part is I hated some tiny UI things, like how the log sometimes hides a line you want to reread during a particularly heavy lesbian ritual, and I will complain about this in my head forever, but at the same time, when Raven kneels in a ruined library, covered in monster cum, reading sigils from a soaked grimoire while fingering herself to unlock a new spell, I forget everything else. It feels like those old fantasy paperbacks where the margins are full of notes from some horny reader before you, except now you’re the one writing them on Raven’s skin.

Pale Carnations feels like someone took a very proper medical student, stripped out his sense of safety, then tossed him face first into the kind of club you normally only see mentioned in Telegram chats that vanish after a week. You start as this uptight guy who really believes he’s still on a straight path, and then your old friend drags you into the Carnation Club, which is basically a brothel pretending to be an art space. The game doesn’t even try to warm you up slowly. One minute you’re talking about exams, the next you’re standing in a “performance hall” where three women are being judged like twisted idols for how well they take pain, shame and a whole lot of cum. The first night, when you have to guide one of the girls through a show, pushed to choose between making it romantic, cruel, or just filthy efficient, that’s where it clicked for me. This isn’t just porn with clicks. It’s about how far you’re willing to go when everyone keeps telling you it’s normal to choke a girl on stage while rich assholes clap in the dark.

The sound in this thing really surprised me. Not “triple A” surprised, more like “why does this muffled moan in the background feel more real than the entire Spotify sexy playlist I’ve got”. There’s this scene where you’re backstage with an older woman who clearly knows the club better than you ever will. She presses your hand to her ass while she quietly instructs you how to handle your “performer”, her voice soft but absolutely in control, and in the distance you hear the audience roar when someone gets spanked hard enough to cry. The track underneath is this slow, slightly dirty lounge loop, a bit off tempo, almost cheap, but it fits so well that I ended up replaying that scene just to hear the way her breathing synced with the bass line. Then later the game swaps to this almost tender piano piece while you’re literally arranging who gets groped on stage and who gets humiliated in private. I liked that a lot. Or maybe I didn’t. It made it harder to pretend this is just mindless fap material when the music keeps whispering “you’re kind of a bastard for choosing the harsher option, you know?” and then rewards you with the wettest, messiest creampie CG three clicks later. The game loves that contrast. Romance on the surface, anal and public bukkake in the back room, ahegao faces in full view while the MC still tells himself he’s a good guy. It’s not subtle, and it’s not trying to be. There’s cheating, masturbation breaks that feel a bit too honest, toys pulled out at the worst possible time, and a lot of rich people treating human bodies like decoration. I wish the little clicking sound on some menu wasn’t so loud, actually, it annoyed me from the start and I kept meaning to change it, then got distracted every single time some milf in heels called me “doctor” and bent over a piece of BDSM furniture like it was a confession booth. Anyway, the club keeps going, the performances get rougher, and your choices keep twisting the knife, mostly in you.

College looks normal on the surface: crappy dorm beds, group chats blowing up over nothing, professors who talk like podcasts on 0.75x speed. Under all that, this game quietly hands you a body that does not stay put. You start as this regular 18-year-old guy, horny and stressed and barely holding it together, and then your skin starts crawling in ways that aren’t just “I need to jerk off before lecture.” Limbs stretch when you panic, muscles twist into inhuman shapes, and your reflection occasionally smiles before you do. The story doesn’t treat it like some heroic anime glow-up either. It feels dirty, like your own body is hitting on you and you can’t tell it to stop. That’s the fun of it, though: you’re constantly one bad choice away from accidentally showing everyone that the cute freshman with the big cock can also casually grow tentacles out of his back.

What really hooks you is how the erotic stuff grows out of that corruption instead of being tacked on. One scene you’re trying to stay calm in a packed lecture hall while your power reacts to a random boner, and the next scene you’re in a bathroom stall, literally reshaping yourself just enough to jerk off without leaving obvious traces, only to lose control and end up painting the walls with thick, barely-human cum. And when the game starts playing with gender shift, it doesn’t pretend it’s some wholesome identity journey. You slide into a soft, curvy version of yourself with big tits and a fat ass because it feels good and because you realize how easy it is to make people stare. There’s a kind of wrong thrill in turning into a stacked girl to get closer to some dude who’d never look at you as a guy, then tempting him into a messy titjob or sloppy blowjob while your mind is still very much male, buried somewhere under the bouncing flesh and ruined mascara. The writing leans into that twisted mix of arousal and shame: you’re hard even when you don’t have a dick, dripping in all the wrong places, surrounded by people who think you’re just another thirsty coed while something inside you writhes like a monster in heat.

Then there are the actual monsters, the things that gave you this power in the first place. They don’t just show up for fights; they slither into the sex. Tentacles that push under your clothes when you’re trying to act normal on a date, thick coils sliding between your transformed thighs while you’re grinding on some unsuspecting classmate, that awful, amazing moment where you realize you can open yourself in ways no human body should and take every inch of it. Scenes stack up where you’re pinned to a dark alley wall, or bent over some forgotten rooftop edge, body shifting to accommodate impossible girth, every hole filled and overflowing until you’re basically covered in cum, breathing hard and half laughing because part of you likes being used like that. Sometimes you turn it around and use your powers to be the monster instead, growing extra hands for a rough handjob, reshaping your mouth for deeper oral, pushing into a wet, stretched pussy while your skin ripples and your partner doesn’t even notice at first. The horror part never totally leaves; even when you’re riding a dick or taking a monster cock, there’s this background hum that you’re one wrong pulse away from snapping into something no longer human. And yet you keep pushing, keep masturbating with a body that can grow new angles to touch, chasing stronger orgasms while you try to pretend you’re just a normal freshman and not a walking sex-horror glitch waiting to explode all over the world.

Hot summer air, sticky skin, that weird mix of bug spray and sweat and cheap shampoo, and this game just leans right into that vibe. It throws you at this half-shitty, half-magical camp where the kids are gone and the counselors are all pretending they’re there to “clean up” when everyone actually just wants to touch someone and finally stop jerking off alone in those squeaky bunks. It moves slow at first, in a horny and awkward way, not in a boring way. You’ve got people sneaking glances at each other while pretending to play cards, one girl pretending she’s not staring at another girl’s ass in those tiny shorts, a guy trying to hide a boner while giving some “safety speech” by the lake. It’s not just instant porn, it’s that build up where you kinda feel like a creep peeking through the cabin window, and you like it. When it finally cracks, it’s not soft at all. One night turns into fingers under t-shirts by the campfire, hands sliding over sweaty thighs, someone daring someone else to strip and suddenly everyone is way too comfortable watching.

The game is super horny about touch. There’s so much groping that feels clumsy on purpose. A hand that lingers too long on sunscreen duty. Someone “accidentally” grabbing a tit when they steady a canoe. A girl who acts all shy then pushes another counselor against a cabin wall and grinds on her like she’s been thinking about it for weeks. Some of the best moments are when people are trying to keep it together and fail. Like one scene where a guy is jerking off in his bunk, trying to be quiet, and you realize another counselor is literally watching from the doorway, not saying a word, just rubbing between her legs and letting him finish without even knowing he has an audience. There’s messy cum everywhere in this thing, not polite at all. Faces, chests, mouths held open, that sort of “oh fuck I didn’t mean to shoot that much” panic that turns into laughter. You get these group scenes at the cabins where it starts as “truth or dare” and ends with everyone half naked, kissing whoever’s next to them, someone on their knees getting their face glazed while another girl sits on a lap and gets spanked until her ass is red and she’s still begging for more. It doesn’t treat kink like edgy shock, more like “yeah, we wanted this for a long time, now we’re just finally doing it.” There’s shy romance too, like two counselors who can’t even say they like each other until after they’ve already jerked each other off behind the mess hall, cum on their fingers and nervous giggles. And then later you get a scene where a bunch of girls make one poor guy strip and stand there hard while they tease him, touch him, talk about him like he’s a toy, and he’s completely embarrassed and loving it. Some stuff you can lean away from, some stuff kind of sneaks up on you, like that moment where a quiet girl who looked all innocent yesterday ends up kneeling in the dirt with strings of cum dripping off her chin while everyone watches. It’s weirdly sweet and filthy at the same time, like all the tension of a real summer crush, but with way more naked bodies and nobody pretending they don’t like being watched.