I don’t know who came up with the idea to mash Makima, Zelda, and Tsunade into the same world, but whoever it was probably spilled beer on their keyboard halfway through writing the script - and that’s what makes *D20 Magic Dice* feel alive. It’s messy, horny, strangely sentimental at times, like watching late-night anime reruns after a breakup. You’re talking to this dice thing (yeah, an actual dice), and before you even realize it, it’s making your thoughts real. Not just the good ones. I rolled a 3 once and ended up in some half-lit tavern where Widowmaker was arm wrestling Rumi for no reason while Zelda flirted with the bartender. I think I lost track of the main plot two minutes in, but it didn’t matter. The game doesn’t care either, it just keeps throwing beautiful chaos in your lap, all soft skin and heavy breathing mixed with dumb jokes about mana points.

What I liked most is how it doesn’t pretend to be clever. The dialogue’s sometimes broken, and the pacing jumps like old VHS tape - one second you’re teasing Ada Wong, next second Tsunade’s lecturing you about responsibility while sitting on your lap. There’s some strange comfort in that inconsistency. I did wish there were more sound options though; moans hit too loud compared to everything else, made me lower volume quick before neighbors got curious. And yet, when Makima whispers in that weirdly calm tone, you kinda forgive every bug. Maybe nostalgia blinds me - I grew up on janky flash hentai crossovers, and this feels like one resurrected from 2009. The dice mechanic almost feels secondary to the conversations, which twist between sincere and absurd so fast it makes you laugh mid-erection.

Sometimes I forget which universe I’m even in - Naruto? Overwatch? Who cares. The worlds blur, the clothes vanish, and someone says something about destiny while you’re trying not to roll another damn six. Three words? Chaotic, filthy, affectionate. Dare to play it alone, or invite company?

It’s weird how this one tries to be a parody but ends up accidentally saying something kind of tragic about Kobeni, like she keeps blushing through the whole thing yet the game never lets her be just cute or just desperate - it’s always both, tangled together. I kept thinking the demon part would be the main hook, but nah, it’s more about that half-panic look in her eyes when you push too far and she still whispers your name. The timing mechanic feels stupid at first, tapping along while she’s choking or trembling, but then it clicks and suddenly you’re syncing with her rhythm in a way that feels too real for a joke game. It’s messy, literally and emotionally, and the moaning voice lines loop wrong sometimes, which only makes it better somehow - like catching someone mid‑breath and refusing to let them finish.

What gets me is how the corruption doesn’t even feel evil. You start off thinking you’re dominating her, but by day five she’s the one steering things, pretending not to, grinding slow while talking about losing her job as if your cock’s the only comfort left. The writing trips over itself, grammar all over, and yet every line lands because it sounds like someone actually flustered trying to talk dirty and failing. There’s a scene in the bathroom where the mirror fogs up and for a second you see horns behind her reflection, tiny, twitching, like she’s halfway yours already. Then she laughs too loud. Totally ruins the moment. But it sticks.

I’ll say though, the creampie counter? Completely unnecessary and also perfect. It forces you to notice time passing, like this gross little calendar of need. The parody label doesn’t save it from being hot, and the humor doesn’t stop it from being kind of sad. Maybe that’s why I keep replaying it, telling myself it’s for the endings, but really just waiting to hear her gasp that same broken syllable again.

Denji’s trapped again, but this time it’s not about blood or blades. It’s a damn maze of moans and bad decisions. The walls hum like they’re watching, the air sticky with that half-sinful, half-desperate energy only Chainsaw Man chaos could pull off. Kobeni trembles like always - except now she’s trembling for different reasons. You can almost taste her panic when your hand slides under her shirt, that mix of fear and wanting that shouldn’t feel this hot but somehow does. Himeno’s smirk cuts through the tension like a knife dipped in smoke; she knows exactly what you’re thinking before you even move. She plays dirty, whispering things that make you forget which way is out, makes you think maybe getting lost forever wouldn’t be so bad.

The game doesn’t rush. It teases. One second you’re grinding through dialogue choices that seem stupidly simple, and then suddenly it hits you - this isn’t about saving anyone, it’s about corrupting them just enough to see who breaks first. Internal view scenes hit hard, no filter, no mercy. The sound design’s nasty in a good way - sticky breaths, little gasps, wet slaps echoing through the infinite corridor like applause. There’s humor too, weirdly enough. Power barges in at the worst possible moment, yells something ridiculous, and you still can’t help but laugh even as the screen flashes another throbbing close-up. It’s gross and sexy and kinda tragic all at once.

And yeah, the endings. Plural. You’ll probably screw up the first one, because some options look harmless until you realize they change everything. There’s a scene where Denji just stares at his own hands, covered in… well, you know, and it lingers longer than comfortable. That’s the thing - nothing here feels safe, even the pleasure. It’s messy, horny, strangely tender in places where it shouldn’t be. Like the game itself is laughing at you for getting turned on by its cruelty. And maybe it’s right.