You start out as this pretty average guy who honestly has it way too good. Cute girlfriend who actually wants your dick and your attention, stacked childhood friends who orbit you like you’re some budget anime protagonist, job that doesn’t suck your soul completely dry. Then the game just kicks you in the balls. You die. No romance, no hero moment, just dead. Next thing, you open your eyes and there are these two weird divine girls talking about you like you’re a broken toy they picked up from the bargain bin. They give you “gifts”. They don’t explain shit. And that’s kind of the running joke of the story: every time you think “ok, now I get it,” the game hits you with another horny plot twist and a new way to get yourself in trouble with wet, needy women and the occasional guy who wanders into the mess.

When you wake up back at the local shrine, the world looks normal, but the vibe is off. Your memories are foggy, like a hangover where you only remember the sex parts. People around you are a bit too eager, a bit too touchy. Your girlfriend still loves you, of course, but now the game starts poking at that line between “loyal couple” and “ok, but what if she licks your cute coworker in front of you while you watch from the side, trying not to lose it.” The game really likes that angle: you’re not sharing her with dudes, it’s all about her with other women, and you stuck there playing half-proud, half-jealous spectator while tongues and fingers do all the honest work. There’s a scene early on where she acts all shy, then ends up on her knees between another girl’s legs, glancing up at you with this guilty puppy look while she’s tasting her. It’s sweet and filthy at the same time, like someone mixed a romance VN with raw horny doujin pages and forgot to separate them.

The “gifts” from the divines slowly show themselves in, let’s say, very physical ways. Your body reacts too strongly. You catch yourself staring when two girls hug, and the game leans into that voyeur thing hard. You peek through doors, “accidentally” walk in on your childhood friend in the bath, then later she’s the one kneeling in front of you, big wet eyes, lips wrapped around you while she tries not to choke too much. Some scenes go full fucktoy fantasy: a girl riding you like she owns you, using your cock just to get herself off, then collapsing on your chest while you drip out of her. There’s this swinging-style moment where the atmosphere turns almost party-like, different women passing you around with their hands and mouths, one girl kissing another while you’re buried inside one of them, hot breathing, sticky thighs, no one really asking if this is “good for the relationship.” The story pretends to care about guilt and cheating, then throws you into a soft harem where everyone somehow ends up naked anyway. And yeah, there’s dick going in, cum staying in, warm creampies leaking out on the sheets and on thighs, because the game is not shy about showing where everything ends up. Every route you poke opens another door: a lesbian side scene there, a guy appearing in the background, a messy shrine night where you’re watching two girls play with a toy on each other while you’re wondering if those divine “gifts” were a blessing or some cosmic pervert’s joke.

Rogue’s eyes flicker like she’s got a storm trapped behind them - no pun on Ororo intended, though she does make a cameo that feels like it came straight out of an adult fever dream. The game throws you in as this anomaly mutant who can brush against anyone without going poof, and suddenly what used to be dangerous turns into something primal, desperate, almost poetic if poetry was sticky and breathless. Rogue tests you early, there’s this scene - locker room, dripping tiles, wet echo - and she doesn’t know if she wants to kiss you or crush you. The writing snaps between tender and filthy so fast it makes your brain lag behind your pulse.

The wild part is how easily it flips from soft-eyed confessions with Jean Grey to pure shameless corruption paths with Emma Frost whispering filth you don’t even think Marvel’s lawyers could process. There’s something dirty-luxurious about that mansion setting; so many doors, each one unlocking another line you’ll probably regret reading at work. Some of the animations (I swear they move like low-res ghosts) have that “almost too human” vibe - you catch a tiny twitch of Rogue’s fingers clutching skin, and it’s hotter than the whole naked scene that follows. But then Storm steps in later and everything turns theatrical, lightning illuminating this ridiculously intimate chaos. You forget half the choices you made, yet every dialogue click still feels personal, like someone watching over your shoulder quietly taking notes.

And sure, maybe Jubilee’s route doesn’t sync right, and Wanda sometimes clips through clothing (yeah, that bug - literally distracting), but when those powers mix - light sparks tracing across bodies, voices overlapping, love and dominance tangling - it hits this weird emotional chord. Like half romance novel, half scandalous lab experiment. I hated that one sound loop kept restarting mid-scene, yet I replayed the moment anyway. It's messy, horny sci-fi and doesn’t pretend otherwise. Maybe that’s why it works. Maybe.

Mark drags his ass back to his hometown thinking he’s just crashing at the old house for a while, and the whole thing instantly turns into a slow-motion sex disaster. Dad is gone, ran off to the Caribbean with his side piece after quietly robbing his company blind for years, and left behind a wrecked family home, a broke ex-girlfriend, and a pile of debts that might as well scream “you’re screwed” in neon. The “solution”? Turn the house into a college-style dorm and stuff it with girls who already know Mark way too well. Childhood friends, twins who used to tease him when he was still a virgin, a neighbor milf with that tight yoga-ass that makes you pause the game just to stare, and a couple of ex-crushes who suddenly don’t seem so out of reach now that everything is falling apart. The mood jumps all over the place: one moment you’re joking about the house turning into a horny hostel, the next you’re in a quiet POV scene where an old flame is jerking you off on the couch, voice quivering, whispering how she missed “this” while you were away, and yeah, she means exactly what you think.

What hits first isn’t some big dramatic twist but the way the girls remember things you forgot. Like that one scene with the chocolate cake in the kitchen where one of the twins licks cream from her finger way too slow and says “you used to watch me do this when we were kids, you perv” while her tits basically rest on the counter. You get options that look harmless, then five clicks later she’s on her knees giving sloppy oral, moaning in your language headset-style, and you realize you dug your own horny grave. The humor keeps undercutting the filth too: you can be elbow-deep in a lactation scene with a milf who “just needs some relief” and in the middle of a titfuck she cracks a joke about charging rent for every creampie you leave in the house. It should kill the mood, but it somehow makes it hotter, because it feels like real people messing around, not plastic porn robots. Some routes lean pure romance, like falling asleep after anal with a girl who cuddles you, talking about future babies and maybe pregnancy, while other paths let you drift into group sex chaos where three girls fight over whose turn it is to ride you, one sitting on your face, another grinding on your dick, someone else just quietly masturbating in the corner because she “likes to watch.” There are endings you can feel coming and others that sneak up, like screwing the wrong person behind someone’s back, that little netori twist where you pretend it’s just a handjob in the shower and suddenly you’ve ruined a relationship you were actually starting to care about. Best way to enjoy all of it? Be a little reckless. Say yes when the twins ask you to help them “study,” don’t skip the teasing scenes, let people get jealous, let mistakes pile up, and save often so you can go back and see what happens if you let the shy girl be the one who finally climbs on top and fucks you until she’s shaking.

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.