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.

Daybreak Nightbreak feels like somebody mashed together a horny Mass Effect, a janky management sim and a corruption hentai manga they hid under the mattress. The city of Chios looks normal at first, just your standard modern place where rent is too high and people pretend to be fine, and then you realise there is a whole mirror version of it lurking on the other side, full of cults, monster girls and people who really, really should not be kneeling and calling you “my lord” with their tits out. You start as this kinda awkward guy, a bit of a late bloomer vibe, virgin energy all over him, who accidentally ends up infused with a power that basically turns “building a fanclub” into “building a sex cult”. It sounds stupid, and yeah, sometimes it really is, in the best way. One moment you are doing accounting in a tiny office, trying not to go bankrupt because some megacorp is crushing your small business, and ten minutes later you are in a dark alley, whispering corrupt little “prayers” into a married woman’s ear while her husband is a room away. And of course she’s got her panties soaked and her ahegao face out in about three dialogue choices.

I like how the game pretends to be about “big decisions” and then your biggest decision turns out to be something like: Do I use mind control to slowly twist this shy college girl into an exhibitionist cosplay slut, or do I turn the local milf head of department into my personal worshipping toy first. The sandbox part hits hard because you just wander around town and keep tripping over new scenes. There’s this goblin girl in the other dimension with ridiculous hips and an ass that moves like it has its own gravity well, and the first time you get her on your lap, she’s grinding in your office chair while asking nervously if “humans really fill girls up that much.” Of course the game gives you the option to breed her stupid with a creampie that drips down her thighs. The animations are rough sometimes, like two dolls humping, but when she’s bouncing, tongue out, drool on her tits and eyes rolled back, you kind of stop caring. Actually, you never cared. And the striptease scenes? There’s this one where a normally classy businesswoman you’ve been carefully corrupting does a half-drunk lapdance for you in a cheap karaoke bar, slowly peeling off her blazer and bra, trying to keep her dignity as she ends up riding your hand under the table, whispering “I’m cheating, I’m so bad” while you finger her until she squirts on the seat. The game just leaves the mess there, no comment.

The corruption feels deliciously slow when it wants to. That college subplot where you go back to campus hits like a twisted nostalgia trip. You start out helping a stressed student with her grades, totally innocent tutoring, then “accidentally” using your power to make her respond a bit too strongly to your touch. Next visit she’s sucking you off in an empty classroom, knees on the cold floor, big doe eyes looking up, lipstick smeared, trying to swallow all of it like she’s cramming for finals. And later you drag her into this stupid cosplay event in the other dimension, make her dress as a bunny girl in front of a small crowd of your followers, and she ends up flashing her pussy to them, moaning while they chant your name like some horny church. It is weirdly romantic too sometimes, buried under all the filth. You can build actual relationships, have soft moments in between the handjobs and public sex. Sitting with a milf on a rooftop, talking about her failed marriage, then quietly sliding your hand under her skirt while she leans on your shoulder, torn between guilt and arousal, might be one of those little scenes that stick. But yeah, then fifteen minutes later you’re using mind control to make her bend over a balcony, tits hanging out, while half the city could technically see you pound her from behind and fill her with a thick creampie she can’t stop leaking. The game swings between “Yakuza-style side story” and “hardcore hentai brainrot” so fast it feels wrong, and that’s kind of why I couldn’t stop clicking.

Office job, boring life, same cheap instant coffee every morning, and then suddenly your dick is gone and your ass looks like something from those Twitter thirst posts. That is the vibe here. One day you are this invisible drone in a suit, the kind of guy no one remembers in the elevator, next day you wake up with tits that do not fit your old shirt and the whole city looking at you like fresh meat on sale. It is not some noble magical destiny thing either. It feels dirty and mean in a good way. People around you start pushing, touching, “helping” you adjust to your new body. Some are sweet, some are creepy as hell, half of them want to get inside your pants, the other half want to own you. And you can lean into it. Or pretend you are not into it while your clothes keep getting shorter.

The nice thing is that nothing is clean cut. You can be that shy mess who blushes when a girl kisses your neck in the bathroom stall or let yourself get dragged into a backroom and end the night with smeared lipstick and sore knees. There is this one early scene that sold me: you are in a crowded bar, still not used to walking in heels, trying to keep your new boobs from jumping out of the dress someone “helped” you choose. Some office colleague who barely talked to you before corners you at the bar, offers a drink, hand on your hip, fingers slowly sliding lower. You can shove him off, play along to get something out of him, or just let him use your mouth right there while people pretend not to look. And it is not just straight trashy stuff either. The girls in this game are dangerous. One of the women at work, proper milf with that strict boss energy, takes you “for coffee” and suddenly you are on your knees between her thighs in a locked conference room, her nails in your hair, telling you this is the only way to keep your new position. Felt like someone recorded a Pornhub Premium audition and turned it into a choice. I was lowkey impressed and also annoyed because the text box covers part of her face and it drives me crazy every single time.

It pretends to be a romantic thing sometimes, with all these dating bits and little stats going up, but under the sugar it is pure corruption. The game loves putting you in situations where you say “just this once” and five minutes later you are the office slut everyone gropes when the lift door closes. One path had me playing nice with this nerdy girl who seems harmless, then she shows up in full cosplay at a convention, ropes you into a couple costume, and suddenly she is sliding her hand under your skirt in a crowded hallway, whispering how no one will notice if you stay quiet. Another time I went the total bimbo route, jacking up every sexy option, getting pumped full of “vitamins,” brain getting softer, outfits getting tighter, ending up on my back with a small crowd taking turns while someone records it on their phone. It is filthy, it is messy, text sometimes stumbles like my own ESL brain, and the AI-style art can look a bit cursed on hands if you stare too long, but somehow that fits the whole “your life is spiraling out of control” feeling. I kept telling myself I would play the classy path, no weird power games, no blackmail, and ten clicks later I am signing a shady contract while a guy has his fingers inside me under the desk and my so-called “friend” is snapping pics in the corner like it is no big deal. Anyway, I’m absolutely not addicted, I can quit after just one more scene.

Phoenix is supposed to be solving crimes, but in this thing he’s basically solving who gets to fuck who first. It still looks like an Ace Attorney game at a glance, with the courtroom flow and the stupidly dramatic zooms, but the mood is way filthier. One moment you’re shouting “Objection!” and pressing a witness, next moment you’re peeking at Maya on that creepy WE-TRACK-U gadget and she’s bent over somewhere she really shouldn’t be, tits bouncing while she “accidentally” drops something for the third time. It keeps this weird balance where you actually care about the case, and then you forget the case completely because someone’s getting slowly corrupted in the background and you’re too busy watching. The writing leans heavy into parody, it constantly pokes fun at the original series, but then it turns around and gives you scenes that feel way too hot to be a joke. Bluecorp 2 is doing shady stuff again, sure, but the real crime is how quickly half of the cast ends up naked or morally broken.

Story goes from goofy to kinda fucked up pretty fast, and that’s where the netorare thing shows up. You’re the male protag, but you’re also this helpless viewer sometimes, forced to watch your “ally” get dragged deeper into sleaze while you poke around in menus and evidence. There’s a sick little thrill when you check the tracker, see a new scene unlock, and realize Maya’s doing something she’ll never admit later. Sometimes she’s just teasing, sometimes she’s getting used by side characters you wanted to punch from the first moment they appeared. Big tits are everywhere, by the way, like the artist was physically allergic to small breasts. Every time a new girl shows up the game practically shoves her chest into frame first, then remembers to give her a face. The voyeur angle hits hard: cameras, peeping through doors, catching a corrupt “training session” in a place that was totally innocent in the original games. It’s sleazy on purpose, and the point & click parts encourage you to poke every stupid hotspot, because half of them end up triggering some lewd animation or a dirty line instead of something useful. Trading cards of the girls are just pure fanbrain candy, like a horny gacha without the gacha, and I hate that I cared enough to try and complete the set.

Guy stuck in some shitty future office job, numbing himself with Spotify and porn on second monitor, then boom, random email: “hey, you own an entire tropical archipelago now.” I mean sure, obvious scam, but in this story it’s actually real, and he just goes. No hesitation, no lawyer, just “ok, I’m a rich island master now, cool.” I kinda love how fast it throws you into the fantasy. One minute you’re surrounded by concrete and neon, next minute you land on this ridiculous paradise full of wet sand, wet skin, wet everything, and this insanely classy woman meets you at the dock, calls you “Master” with that calm, trained smile that already screams “I know exactly how to make you break all your morals.” She’s hot in that hentai office-lady way, big tits pressed into a too-tight outfit, acting all professional while clearly ready to bend the rules and probably her spine.

The structure is visual novel style, but it sneaks in management stuff so you’re not just clicking next text like a zombie. You’re technically running this island group, investing money, deciding what buildings to put, who works where. And every “responsible” choice somehow leads to more perversion. Upgrade a facility? Suddenly there’s a scene where your staff are “celebrating” in your private villa with their clothes on the floor and their legs open. Got a research lab? They’re not studying fish, they’re testing this creepy futuristic machine that can mess with memories and lust. I swear the first time I used it on that shy girl who kept blushing and covering her chest, I was like “ok this is fucked up” and then five clicks later I’m watching her grind on a metal frame, moaning your name, eyes glazed, while the machine slowly strips away her resistance. The game really leans into corruption, like not just “she likes sex now,” but watching her go from normal worker to addicted slut who peeks at camera feeds and fingers herself while spying on other couples.

Sex scenes don’t stay one-on-one for long. The moment the island economy starts running, you basically become this horny overlord scheduling meetings that end in group sex. There’s this one beach party where you pretend it’s some celebration of progress, but really it’s just an excuse to watch them drunk on sun and lust, bodies all over the sand, a messy mix of big asses bouncing, big boobs slapping, two girls sharing your cock while a third rides your face. Sometimes there’s a monster angle too, like the tech or weird creatures from the ocean getting involved, tentacle-ish stuff that feels half sci fi, half wet dream, and the girls go from fear to obsession so fast it’s almost funny. Also, the voyeur angle is strong as hell. You unlock hidden cameras in showers, staff rooms, even the lab. One time I opened the cam menu on my phone on the subway and forgot volume, and suddenly this girl is on screen getting railed against a glass wall, moaning so hard people looked at me. I pretended it was TikTok but yeah, no one believed that. Anyway, the romance part is there if you want to pretend you care, you can pick favorites, take them on “dates” under the palm trees, tell them sweet things, then order them to kneel in the sand and swallow everything like good pets. The game lets you be as soft or as much of a manipulative bastard as you want, but it always comes back to the same thing: you’re the master of this sunny little sex factory, and every pretty thing on that island is one decision away from being on her knees or on a machine, moaning your name like it’s the only word she remembers.

Storm, wet wood, that weird mix of salt and fear in your throat, and right in the middle of that you’ve got her: this perfect elven wife who still somehow looks holy even with her robes clinging to her curves. The game throws you onto this nameless island like the ocean just spat you out, and suddenly your “happily ever after” feels like a joke with bad timing. It’s not a complicated setup, actually kind of simple, which makes it worse. You, the loyal husband, still trying to act like a hero. Her, the devout priestess who actually believes all that purity talk. And then that guy, Borwin, this sweaty, wheezing sailor with piggy eyes who starts looking at her like she’s the last piece of meat in the world. The whole thing is a slow punch in the gut, because nothing explodes, nobody just jumps into fucking right away. It just stretches. Long glances. His “accidental” touches. Her nervous smile that hangs a little too long. And you get stuck watching, almost tasting that ugly mix of jealousy and arousal in your own mouth, like cheap rum you didn’t mean to drink.

What hit me hardest is how the game doesn’t rush the dirty stuff. First it plays with your brain. They’re sitting close to the fire, he laughs too loud, his hand lands on her thigh, and she doesn’t slap it away. Not right away. You feel that little sting in your chest, like, “hey, that’s my wife,” but you also stare at the screen longer than you should. When he ogles her tits through soaked fabric, it’s not subtle, and she notices, but instead of screaming she blushes and fidgets and pretends she didn’t see. It’s messed up, watching her slowly slide from “holy and untouchable” to “kind of flattered that this filthy bastard wants her so bad.” The corruption is mostly in her expressions, tiny shifts. Mouth a bit more parted when he leans close. Eyes not quite meeting yours. Then the touches change. His hand on her ass when he helps her “climb over a rock.” His fingers brushing along the inside of her thigh while he plays it off like he’s checking a wound. There’s a scene where she’s kneeling in front of him, supposedly “tending an injury,” and the camera knows exactly what your brain is doing. Her face is too close to his crotch, her lips too wet, and for a second the game just lets you sit there wondering if she’s going to use her mouth on him or if you’re just filthy for even thinking it.

At some point the line breaks and you don’t even remember exactly where. One night the priestess who swore her body belongs to the gods is on her back, robe pushed up, legs spread, and the guy filling her is not you. She moans in a way you’ve never heard from her scenes with you, louder, less controlled, like her body finally stopped pretending. Her tits bounce when he pounds into her, her ass lifts up to meet him, and you feel this horrible heat in your gut because the animation really leans into how much she’s getting into it. She grabs his arm, begs him not to stop, and the worst part is how her words sound half like prayer, half like porn. There’s this nasty little bit where he gropes her under the pretense of “warming her up” after a cold night, his thick fingers pushing under her clothes, and she’s shivering but not from the cold anymore. She bites her lip, tries to mumble something about “marriage vows,” but she’s grinding against his hand while she says it. Oral, handjob, full-on fucking, it all comes, just not in the order your pride would like. The game never lets you escape that tight, ugly feeling of watching your “treasure” get taken, then watching her start to want it more than anything you ever gave her. And you know what makes it even dirtier? There’s no choice to fix it, no magic button to “save” her. You’re just there, stuck in your own skin, watching this elf with a big perfect ass and soft bouncing tits get slowly rewritten by a disgusting sailor, and somewhere in the middle of her crying and moaning you realize you’re stroking yourself and hating yourself at the same time.

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.

Caligula as porn game sounds like a shitpost idea, but it kinda works here. You play this cocky little psychopath prince who climbs to emperor while his dick basically makes half the decisions. It is not subtle. The game throws you into old Rome where every corridor, bath, balcony feels like someone either just fucked there or is about to. You’re mostly in first person as a male MC, and it leans heavy into voyeur stuff: you watching, you being watched, you pretending you “accidentally” walked in on something even though you clearly followed them. There’s this scene early where you spy on a noble girl getting “examined” by a tutor, she’s still technically virgin so he’s using fingers and tongue, and instead of feeling romantic it’s like you’re watching a lamb get slowly trained for slaughter. That mix of history flavor and really dirty sex is the whole mood.

The game uses real model faces blended with AI art and it’s weirdly hot. Sometimes uncanny, sometimes perfect. One of the slave girls has this expression that looks like an OnlyFans selfie pasted into a Roman villa and I still liked it. It helps with the corruption stuff too, because you see the same girl going from shy, eyes down, clutching her sheet, to later on taking your cock between her tits while also jerking another guy with one hand and trying to keep a straight face for the “public ceremony”. Half the corruption is you pushing them, half is them realizing they like being treated as property. Oral scenes are constant, like the dev just really loves mouths. Short, messy blowjobs in side rooms, drawn out “serve your emperor” worship scenes in public baths, one priestess forced to suck you off on the temple steps while people pretend to not notice. I ranked that one pretty high on my own little spreadsheet, right next to some crazy challenge I did in HuniePop years ago where I tried to unlock every CG before checking Discord for a whole day. Yeah, I lost that challenge. I never learn.

Sex variety is honestly nicer than I expected from a historical setting. Vaginal is everywhere of course, but anal slips in when girls are still “saving” their virginity for some political marriage. There’s one wedding-night scene where you take the bride from behind in a dark side chamber while the official groom is busy drinking in the banquet hall, and the writing goes heavy on the power trip. You plug her ass so she can still technically go to her husband “pure” and she’s half crying, half pushing back. I liked that they didn’t pretend she was totally into it from the start. Same with the forced and male dom scenes: it doesn’t sugarcoat it; sometimes it’s clearly abuse, sometimes it slides into exhibitionism and she starts showing off her body to the crowd because that’s the only way she can feel in control. The game keeps shoving you into public humiliation bits: making girls stroke you under the table in Senate, commanding a handjob in front of a chained rival, walking a naked slave through a garden while senators stare. At one point you jerk off alone after an execution, watching the blood drip while you remember a previous titfuck scene with the victim, and I caught myself thinking “ok, that’s actually fucked” then clicked next anyway. The only thing that really annoyed me was a tiny UI sound on choice buttons, this stupid click that feels like some cheap mobile app from 2014, and now every time it plays I lose the mood for a second and mentally open Twitter. I still keep chasing the filthiest route like it’s a leaderboard and I’m trying to speedrun how fast I can ruin every “good” girl in Rome, but yeah, that little click noise lives rent free in my skull.

Eric thinks he’s just taking his shy little wife Grace out of the city for some quiet countryside air, but the whole thing reeks of “bad idea” from the second you see his dad. Fletcher is that type of older guy your mom warned you about on Facebook fitness groups: silver at the temples, shoulders like he still lifts real weights instead of scrolling TikTok, that easy smile that screams “I fuck around and never get caught.” The game doesn’t waste time pretending he’s a saint. He’s checking out Grace in the first ten minutes, eyes lingering on her ass when she leans over, pretending he’s just “correcting her posture.” You’re sitting there thinking, dude, that’s your son’s wife, but then the camera just stays on those big tits pressed against his chest during a “harmless” stretching session and suddenly you’re not judging shit anymore. And the fun part is, you’re not locked into one point of view; one moment you’re trapped inside Grace’s confused little head, trying to convince yourself Fletcher’s hands on your hips are totally normal family stuff, next moment you’re Eric, watching from the doorway, pretending you don’t see the way your own dad looks at your woman like a new workout machine he wants to test.

The neighbors are the cherry on this fucked up cake. Hailey and Ian are that weird couple that seems too friendly, the type who brings over a pie for no reason and then won’t leave. Hailey is pure trouble: perky, tight top, always “accidentally” bending over in front of Eric, asking him to help fix something while her husband is away. Meanwhile, Ian acts like Fletcher’s lost twin spiritually, throwing horny little hints and talking way too much about “sharing experiences” over beers. It starts slow, just casual hangouts in the backyard, a barbecue where Grace shows up in those yoga pants that hug her thick ass just right, Fletcher’s eyes following every bounce like it’s a religious thing. Then you get that one scene where Grace is helping Fletcher in his private “gym,” he’s standing behind her, guiding her arms for some light exercise, and his hands end up on her tits longer than any normal human needs for “correction.” You can see her breathing change. She doesn’t pull away. The game just sits in that discomfort. Long. And if you want, you push it. Maybe Eric walks in and pretends everything is fine, maybe he watches silently from the top of the stairs while his own father slowly corrupts the woman he promised to protect, or maybe you push Grace herself to go from “this is wrong” to “I just want to feel that thick daddy cock break me in.” There’s this one scene where Fletcher’s hand casually wraps around hers while she’s stroking him and he guides her pace like he’s teaching her some fitness move, and she’s biting her lip, eyes glassy, muttering his name instead of her husband’s. It’s gross and hot and messy and feels exactly like some fucked up Pornhub rabbit hole you swear you’ll never go down again, right before you click the next scene anyway.