GUPP die Film feels like someone took a military fetish fever dream, stuffed it into a horny school parody and then just let it spin out of control in the best, trashiest way. You’re glued in POV most of the time, so everything hits very direct: when a futa officer with ridiculous big tits leans over your desk and grabs your cock for a lazy handjob while still talking about “tactics”, it feels messy and personal, not neat. The whole thing pretends to follow some “serious” story about tanks and war and school life, but honestly, the only big battles that matter happen in your pants. I kind of love how it never really decides if it’s a war drama, a dumb comedy, or just a long excuse for you to get drained by a harem of aggressive girls with huge asses who treat your virgin status like a resource to be exploited.

Some moments stick hard. Like the first time you get shoved against a locker by this tall futa commander in a school uniform that clearly doesn’t pass dress code, her thigh pressing between your legs while she orders you to open your mouth. No gentle build up, no romantic music, just a rough oral scene right there, boots squeaking on the floor, her dick slapping against your tongue while she keeps your head in place with one gloved hand. Then, in the same route, she suddenly goes slow and makes you lick the tip like it’s some kind of holy ritual and you’re thinking, ok, which personality are we on now? The game is full of those flips. One girl rides you in vaginal sex like she’s trying to break your hips, yelling about victory and formations, then five minutes later she’s blushing like a shy schoolgirl when you cum inside and there is that thick creampie dripping down between her thighs in this weirdly sweet closeup. The 3D style makes all the jiggling and the way their feet curl during orgasm look almost too real sometimes. There is a footjob scene on a couch where the camera just stays low, staring at her soles rubbing your shaft, and I swear it lingers there longer than some people’s entire sex lives. It’s stupidly indulgent. I liked it. I was also kind of annoyed because her toenails are perfect and I kept waiting for at least one chipped nail to make it feel human, but no, they’re like anime toenails, forever flawless.

The “harem” part isn’t just a tag someone slapped on. Once the routes start crossing, you end up in these ridiculous stacked situations, like being pinned under one girl’s big ass while another one sits on your face and a third is arguing about who gets your next load. You barely see your own body, which somehow makes the female domination hit harder. They talk about you like a toy, like a strategic asset, and even when you’re technically choosing options, it doesn’t feel like you’re in charge at all. Kind of hot, kind of frustrating. I had one scene in Chrome while also half-watching some tank documentary on YouTube in another tab and it accidentally synced up, so you have the narrator talking about flanking maneuvers while this girl with massive tits is bouncing on you in POV, her ass slapping against your thighs, drool on her lips, and it just felt wrong in exactly the right way. Still, some transitions are rough, like you finish a creampie and suddenly you’re in a classroom again with no clean-up shot, no sticky thighs, nothing, and I keep thinking, where did the cum go, is there a lore answer for this? There isn’t, of course. The game just shrugs and throws another blowjob at you. And by then you don’t really argue.

You wake up wrong. That is the first thing that hit me. Not heroic, not cool cyberpunk badass, just this sick, half-loaded feeling like your soul got dragged through a glitchy Pornhub ad. You’re in your backup sleeve, lying in some cheap future med-bay, the kind that smells like burnt plastic and sex lube, and your own body doesn’t quite fit. Your fingers are a bit too long, your chest feels heavy in a way it shouldn’t, heart rate monitor chirping like a horny bird, and your vision keeps tearing like a bad stream on xVideos. Crew’s a mess, ship’s a mess, and your upload is corrupted enough that if you calm down, you die. Which is a fucked up way of saying: you literally need to be kept turned on just to keep your brain from shutting off.

The “keep his heart rate up” thing sounds like a cheesy porn excuse, and yeah, it is, but here it actually wraps around into the story surprisingly tight. You’re surrounded by these thick-thighed, short-haired, neon-dyed space girls that look like someone smashed together a strip club and a hacker bar, then sprinkled futa on top for good measure. They are not gentle nurses. You’re not in some healing crystal spa. You are meat they are determined to keep pumping, with hands that wander the second the monitor dips below a number they like. One moment the medic is calmly explaining your neural corruption, next moment her gloved hand slides under your hospital sheet and she squeezes like she’s testing a weapon part. The captain leans over you, short hair brushing your face, tits spilling out of a half-open suit, and she’s pissed you almost died but she’s also grinding on your thigh with this lazy, practiced dominance that says she has done this before with other poor fucks on other poor ships.

I liked how the game doesn’t even pretend to be subtle about the body stuff. Your sleeve is customizable, but not in that boring “pick eye color, done” way. It’s big asses that bounce when you get grabbed, heavy tits that strain cheap fabric, cocks and clits and both, because why not if you’re paying for a synthetic body anyway. Cyberpunk setting, sure, there are glowing cityscapes outside the porthole and some talk about data smuggling and black clinic surgeons, but honestly the real sci-fi here is “how far can we push this body before the heart flatlines.” There is this one scene that stuck with me: you’re strapped into this sloopy auto-doc chair, and a futa crew engineer, all colorful undercut and grease on her cheeks, is pretending to “check your reflexes” while she slowly strokes you with one hand and plays with the med panel with the other, watching the HR line spike when she squeezes your balls just a bit too hard. And the worst part? She keeps half-talking about thruster repairs, like she’s multitasking you like any other ship component.

Not everything lands. Some of the dialogue comes out a bit stiff in the wrong way, like someone tried to write badass one-liners while also jerking off and lost the balance. There is a moment where a character calls a neural buffer a “quantum RAM thingy” and I still don’t know if that’s on purpose or just lazy, but I kind of love it because it feels like late-night shitposting turned into a game script. The pacing jumps all over: one second you’re gasping, being ridden hard by a thick-hipped futanari officer who pins your wrists to keep your pulse up, the next second someone brings up fuel dates and cargo lists like we didn’t just watch you cum all over the med bed. Also, tiny complaint that bugged me way more than it should: the damn heart rate sound is slightly too high-pitched, like my Fitbit having an orgasm, and it made me reach for my phone twice, thinking I got a notification. Still, when the girls crowd around you, colored hair brushing your skin, their hands greedy, their voices low and bossy, using your overheating body as both patient and toy, that shrill little beep just disappears into the background like any other cheap future noise. Sex as life support. Literally. It’s messed up, and it works.

Darci hits like a wet dream that crawled out of your teenage goth phase and learned how to fuck reality. Big tiddy, crow-winged, pointy-eared trouble walking through this moody Avalonian city where every alley feels like it smells of cold rain and dirty sex. She is this tall, black-lipsticked futa elf with thighs like religion and a cock that looks like it has its own backstory. Sometimes she just stands in the mirror of her crappy rented room, eye bags dark as ink, feathers twitching, and you feel how much she hates and loves her own body at the same time. The game lets you sit inside that body, inside her head, while she tries to pretend she is just another freak in a society full of polished liars and quiet monsters.

The first time you walk into the GothHouse, the place feels less like “home” and more like someone mashed a sex dungeon with a student dorm and forgot to clean up the energy. Those girls are not just NPCs, more like walking fetishes with their own scars. There is that pale vampire-esque girl in the corner, huge tits squeezed in a corset that looks one breath away from breaking, who pretends not to stare at Darci’s bulge. Later, when you actually choose to follow her to the shared shower, the way the scene goes from awkward small talk to her on her knees, lipstick smeared on Darci’s shaft, water hissing over skin, feels messy in a good way. It is not some clinical porn flow. She gags once, laughs, then keeps going, and Darci’s crow instincts flare up, claws digging into tile, eyes glowing that sick underworld purple. The sex can switch from slow, clingy lesbian grinding to full-on “pin her against the wall and fuck her brains out” when Darci stops being scared of her own power and actually uses it. The game is at its best when it lets you drag that line between tenderness and corruption with one more thrust.

Funny thing, the story pretends to be about “finding her place in society”, but half the time you are just seeing how far you can push these girls before something breaks. There is that elf priestess type who looks holy until you get her alone behind the shrine and make her moan so loud it feels like prayer turned inside out. Darci buries her cock in her while feathers shed to the ground like black snow, and for a moment the underworld power pulses through both of them, giving you this tiny illusion of romance that the next scene absolutely ignores. Some conversations drag on too long, like the game is trying to be all deep and moody while you are just waiting to see if the big ass demon girl in the kitchen will finally bend over the table. She does, eventually, and the vision of Darci grabbing those wide hips, tits swinging, driving in hard while the demon girl laughs and claws at the wood, that wipes away most complaints. Not all, because yeah, sometimes the pacing stumbles and the “universe notes” feel like reading someone’s tumblr lore between jerk-off sessions. But then there is that quiet night where Darci, exhausted, curls around another goth girl in bed, both naked, soft boobs pressed together, dick resting lazy between warm thighs instead of pounding. It is almost sweet. Almost. Then she wakes up, remembers she is a half-crow freak with hellfire between her legs, and you go hunting again.

Ariana feels like that girl you see on the bus with headphones in, pretending the whole world is background noise, except in this game the background noise wants to fuck her. She’s quiet, awkward, the type who clutches her phone like a shield, and somehow surrounded by women who look like they walked straight out of a very horny Instagram explore page. Her mom, her older sister, every older woman orbiting the house has that heavy, lazy sexual energy, like they could lean on a doorframe and instantly ruin your life in the best way. The tension hits early, when Ariana is just trying to masturbate in peace and you realize the game is not interested in peace at all. It wants leaked sounds through thin walls, accidental gropes that stop being accidental way too fast, and that slow corruption curve where “just curious” turns into “I’ll do anything if she keeps talking like that.”

The soundtrack caught me off guard. It’s not some epic orchestral thing, more like soft electronic loops with a bit of bass that hums under the skin. There’s this one track that plays when Ariana is alone in her room, just scrolling on her phone, and it feels like late night Tumblr porn browsing mixed with guilty church memories. Then the mood flips when the older women step in. The music shifts, gets more humid, heavier, like cheap red wine in a glass that someone keeps refilling. It’s horny elevator music if the elevator stopped halfway between floors and nobody pressed the alarm. I swear one of the loops sounds like it was made in GarageBand at three glasses of wine deep, and it works precisely because it’s slightly trashy. Erotic scenes lean into that rhythm: slow teasing, a hand on her big ass that stays there too long, fingernails grazing under her shirt, mom “helping” her with a toy that Ariana should definitely be using alone. The whole thing feels like a corrupted ASMR playlist where every “relaxing” sound ends with a moan.

When the game starts playing with power, that’s where it gets messy in a good, sticky way. Female domination here isn’t just leather and shouting; it’s mom using a soft voice while pushing Ariana’s head where she wants it, sister pretending it’s all just “practice,” older women treating her body like free use whenever she wanders into the wrong room at the wrong time. There’s a scene with a strap-on that goes from playful to “oh fuck she’s not stopping” really fast, and the camera just lingers on Ariana’s face, that mix of panic, pleasure, and “I shouldn’t like this” that hits harder than the actual penetration. Anal sneaks in that way too, like a dirty afterthought that becomes the main event. Beast stuff shows up more like a taboo wall you crash into, not subtle at all, and somehow the soundtrack just keeps doing that lazy, sexy loop like this is completely normal. Lesbian moments slide in between all the family tension, like Ariana using a “friend” to rehearse what she’ll never admit she wants from her own house. The game loves big tits, big asses, hands wandering, casual groping in hallways, and those long masturbation scenes where she starts off shy and ends up fucking herself with toys while thinking about exactly the wrong person. It’s clumsy, horny, kind of trashy, and every time the music hits that deep synth line, it feels like the walls of the house are breathing along with her.