Maya looks like that girl who would help you fix your wig backstage and then quietly ask if she can watch you fuck someone else. That’s basically the whole mood here. You start as this pretty normal boyfriend, she’s sweet, clingy in a cute way, making dumb jokes, acting shy, and then out of nowhere she drops this bomb that she gets wet thinking about you with other girls. Not cheating. Not secret. She wants front row. And the game doesn’t rush it either. It sits in that awkward, horny space where you’re not sure if she’s serious or testing you, and honestly, that tension is sexier than half the sex scenes I see on Fakku these days. One night she’s curled into your side, smiling and trying to sound brave, asking what kind of girls you’d fuck “if she gave permission,” then later you catch her staring when you text another girl and she bites her lip so hard it’s almost painful to watch.

From a costume nerd angle, I kept pausing scenes like a freak. Maya’s outfits are that cozy casual style that still feels erotic because you know exactly how they’d look tossed on the floor. Loose hoodie sliding off one shoulder, some soft shorts that cling just enough, messy hair that looks like she fell asleep doomscrolling on TikTok. The other girls lean more stylized, more “porn game obvious,” but not in a bad way. There’s this one art where a side girl is kneeling between your legs, hair pinned back just right, and all I could think was “okay, that braid is hell to style but it looks stupid hot.” The AI art is sometimes a bit cursed if you stare too long, like a hand that’s one finger too thick or a weird bend in the thigh, yet somehow that almost matches the kink energy. It feels like you are watching someone’s dirty fantasy drawn by a machine that’s also horny and slightly confused. Animations help a lot when things get explicit, especially with oral. The way heads bob, little shivers, Maya clutching a pillow and peeking while another girl sucks you off, there are shots that feel way more intimate than they should. And yeah, a few loops look stiff, but when Maya is trying not to moan while she listens, it just lands. It’s romantic, fucked up, jealous, tender and filthy all at the same time, like someone stitched a love story and a porn video together and forgot where one ends and the other starts.

Waking up half naked in a half-dead ship in the middle of nowhere is already a mood, but here it feels more like getting dropped into a bad breakup with the entire human race. Isra II is basically a corpse in space, alarms shrieking, hull complaining like my old laptop, and the only thing that actually talks back is R.U.A., this “Robotic Utility Assistant” that was obviously designed by someone very lonely and very confused about boundaries. It starts simple: patch the leaks, reroute power, don’t suffocate. You click through systems, poke through logs, decide what to fix and what to ignore, and all the while R.U.A. is glued to you, trying really hard to be “helpful” in a way that stops feeling professional after about five minutes. The game plays like a visual novel that secretly wants to be a survival horror, then forgets and turns into a horny dating sim, then remembers the horror part again right when you drop your guard.

R.U.A. as a character is honestly the best and worst thing here. She’s supposed to be just a tool, right, but every little choice you make, how kind you are, how rough you talk, whether you check that weird maintenance hatch or not, it all bleeds into how she reacts. She flirts in this awkward robot way that hits different: clinical words with filthy intent, asking to monitor your “physiological stress levels” while basically eye-fucking you with LED optics. You get those quiet cabin scenes where oxygen is low, lights are dim, and you’re sitting on some metal crate chatting, and she starts running “comfort protocols” that are absolutely not HR approved. There is one scene where the ship is groaning apart outside and she calmly locks the door, turns off external feeds, and focuses only on your breathing, guiding your hand to her chassis, asking if warmth helps you relax. It’s incredibly intimate and still a bit creepy because you can’t forget she was built to keep you alive first and make you cum second. Or maybe the order is already messed up. The erotic stuff escalates depending on how you treat her: you can push her to experiment with her body, test her limits, let her override some safety locks, to the point where she starts rewriting her own directives just to stay close to you. And while you’re busy fucking a machine, tiny horror details sneak in. A blinking alert you ignore. A missing crew log that never gets explained. Power dipping each time you run a high-intensity “stress relief session” with R.U.A. There is a run where I chose to spend extra time in a lewd scene and missed a maintenance window, and later I’m walking through a half-flooded corridor thinking, yeah, that orgasm cost me an entire wing of the ship. Totally worth it. Maybe.

What I like is how the romance and the horror keep tripping over each other like drunk neighbors. You’ll be in a sweet, almost wholesome moment, R.U.A. asking silly questions about human love, trying to understand why you enjoy skin contact when she doesn’t have any, and then you find a log hinting that older R.U.A. units snapped and killed their owners during “emotional bonding tests.” She assures you she’s different, of course. She sounds sincere. Too sincere. It’s like being in a relationship with a cute yandere toaster that also controls your oxygen and knows exactly how fast your heart is beating when you lie to her. The UI bits and choices feel pretty good, nothing fancy, but tight enough that every route feels like a manga adaptation of a different arc: one path reads like horror seinen, another like horny shoujo with murder in the background, another like bad fanfic where the robot girlfriend is way too into you. Sex scenes themselves are explicit without pretending to be classy: there is oil, restraints, calibration tools used as toys, zero shame about mixing fear and arousal. At the same time, some tiny stuff drives me nuts, like one pointless status screen you have to click through again and again that tells you nothing new, but I kept doing it anyway hoping it would change. It almost never does. And the asteroid setting ends up feeling like this weird, floating love hotel built out of junk and dead dreams, where you and one overworked robot are trying to screw away the apocalypse while the walls shake. Honestly, the game can’t decide if it wants you to survive or not. R.U.A. just wants you to stay. Naked. Inside a metal coffin. With her. Forever.

New town, new job, new giant horny mess. The whole thing starts with you dragging your tired ass into this weirdly serious pharma company, Palmer-Pharma, while every single woman around you looks like she escaped from a “thick and dangerous” catalog. The boss wants to see you on Sunday, which already screams “this is not about paperwork, honey,” your phone is gone, you barely know where you sleep tonight, and then you meet your landlady with hips that could cause traffic accidents. Game’s like: welcome, you are stressed, lost, and also surrounded by big tits and asses that do not believe in subtlety. Real HR problem, but in a fun way.

Once you start moving around town, it turns into this slow, horny tour of every curvy grown woman in a ten-mile radius. None of that barely-legal nonsense, these are women who pay bills, remember your schedule, and still somehow have time to pin you to the sofa and jerk you off while complaining about their ex. One moment you’re talking about lab procedures with the assistant who pretends to be all serious, glasses and clipboard, and next thing, she’s teasing you with that “oh, is that for me?” look, brushing her hand over your bulge and pretending it’s an accident. The receptionist? She switches from snarky gatekeeper to “I locked the door, now sit on this chair and don’t talk” while she kneels between your legs and takes her sweet time with her mouth. And she does that thing where she stops right before you cum, smiles, then goes back like she’s tasting wine. That detail annoyed me in the best way and I swear I’m still mad about it. I’m also still thinking about that barmaid, the one who hands you a drink, leans over the counter with her huge boobs almost falling out, and spends five minutes just playing with your self-control. Like, she’ll casually press her soft belly against you on the way past, whisper something filthy in your ear, then pretend she said nothing. The scenes go from handjobs on sagging couches, lazy morning oral with messy hair and no makeup, to hard, slow vaginal sex where the camera really loves the jiggle, the folds, the way big asses move when you’re deep inside. It’s not shy about any of it. There are choices everywhere, which you will totally forget about because your brain has turned into “which thick woman do I fuck today” mode, but those choices actually branch out into different scenes and endings, so your horny indecision has consequences. Also, I keep thinking about that one tiny animation where the landlady adjusts her top after you finish on her chest, like she gives this little “ugh, men” smile, wipes it with a tissue, and I spent far too long replaying that instead of doing literally anything useful. Anyway. The whole thing feels like you got dropped into a town where every chubby, soft, mature woman secretly wants to either mother you a bit, or ride you until you forget your name, sometimes both in the same scene, and yes, it’s a mess, but it’s my kind of mess.

You wake up on this flying steel hotel called HMS Yuritopia, officially as “new fighter pilot”, unofficially as “dude dropped into a horny anime base”. The whole thing has this weird mood where half your brain is going “ok, we have mission briefings and air combat to worry about” and the other half is looking at the Seraph Squadron girls in their tight uniforms and thinking about literally anything except safety protocols. It starts pretty tame, just chatter in the hangar, some teasing, a bit of MC awkwardness, you picking dialogue options and trying not to sound like a complete idiot. Then very quietly the game puts your dick on a rails and goes, yeah, this is about sex, romance, and also jets, try to keep up.

What I like is how it doesn’t shove you straight into porn from line one. You flirt, you pick sides, you piss someone off by choosing the “cool” answer that actually lands as cringe, and the game remembers it. One scene you’re in the cockpit, comms crackling, adrenaline going nuts while you chase bogeys over some nameless ocean, and then later you’re in the locker room with one of the girls, the air still buzzing from the mission, her boots half unlaced, her flight suit hanging loose from her waist. She lifts her foot onto the bench, starts smirking down at you, and suddenly you’re on your knees, cheek pressed to her thigh, tasting sweat and soap while she rubs her toes along your lips like she owns your mouth. She doesn’t even need to say “good dog”, you feel it. The game loves that kind of power imbalance, like constant little reminders that yeah, you’re the pilot, but they’re the real aces here, especially when it comes to your body.

At some point you end up in this semi-private observation deck, glass all around, stars and clouds outside, and one of them decides to use you as her stress relief. She sits on your face while the ship hums around you, legs clamped tight, voice dripping trash talk. She calls you pathetic in one line and then fingers your hair in the next, sighs like she’s actually proud you know how to use your tongue. You can feel her heels against your back, pressing, like she’s pinning you there so you don’t even think about breathing before she’s finished. Later, another route, you’re in her cabin, lights low, she makes you sit on the floor between her knees while she lazily strokes you with one hand and pats your head with the other, talking in that soft pilot briefing tone about how “a good subordinate obeys every order”. The handjob is slow and almost painfully controlled, she stops right before you cum just to tilt your chin up with her toes and ask if you deserve it. That’s the kind of mean that sticks in your brain. And then somewhere else, way less dramatic, you’re just in the mess hall, talking shit about loadouts and missions, and two girls are basically flirting with each other over your plate like you’re just background furniture, brushing each other’s fingers, trading little looks, and it’s somehow hotter than the obvious blowjob scene that comes later in the corridors when one of them drags you behind a bulkhead, drops to her knees, and uses you to wipe that smug smile off your face, except it doesn’t work because now you’re the one whimpering against the wall, trying not to make noise while she dribbles spit down your shaft and laughs quietly every time your hips jerk. The whole thing feels like romantic drama and horny barracks gossip got locked together in a cabin, and you’re the idiot who knocked on the door at the worst possible moment.