First thing that hits you with this one is how stupidly on-the-nose the Halloween vibe is, in a good way and also in a kind of trashy way that fits porn games way too well. It’s all haunted corridors, weird slime stains on walls, pumpkins watching you like they know you’re about to jerk off, the usual. The whole thing sits in that Avatar / Legend of Korra parody pocket, but instead of doing the grand “save the world” thing, it’s more like “try not to die while your dick is out.” You play as a guy dumped into this paranormal mess where spirits and monsters want your body in every possible sense. One second a ghost milf is literally trying to suck your soul out through your cock, next second there’s blood on the floor and a jumpscare that almost makes you close your browser out of reflex. Almost. It keeps that goofy humor tone from the FET universe, like characters crack dumb lines right before doing something completely vile, and it somehow works. You laugh, then there’s a futa spirit pinning you against a wall and using you like a toy, and the joke just feels like part of the abuse. In a fun way. Kind of.

The animated scenes carry the whole thing. They aren’t “perfect”, some loops look a bit rough or stiff, but that’s also why they feel dirtier. Korra riding you with her tits bouncing slightly off-sync, a monster cock sliding into her while she’s still pretending to be in control, the slow push into a wet pussy while a shadow hand covers her mouth and she tries not to moan too loud. There’s a sleep sex scene that’s way more messed up than it pretends to be: you waking up halfway through, not sure if it’s a dream or a ghost literally using your body. No fade-to-black, just full-on grinding, cum, and her whispering some creepy loving shit in your ear. The violence is graphic enough that you wince once or twice, like when a paranormal thing claws your back open during doggy and it’s played as joke and horror at the same time. Game lets you masturbate in one corner scene while some possessed milf watches from the mirror, and that stupid little detail stayed in my head longer than the “big” story beats. Oral scenes are all over the place, messy, spit dripping, sometimes a bit cartoonish, which somehow fits the parody. Vaginal stuff gets most of the focus, especially with Korra, and it’s very “fan brain candy”: positions you know people have been drawing for years, now in motion, plus the occasional futanari twist where suddenly she’s the one doing the penetrating and you just have to accept it because of “spooky magic.” The horror is never serious enough to kill the mood, but it’s never fully background either, so you’re jerking it while also waiting for something awful to pop up. In a way, that tension is the real fetish here.

Lucas walks back into that rich boy nightmare house like he never wanted to see it again, and suddenly there’s this “new” stepmom waiting who looks like a porn ad clicked on itself and turned real. Isabelly acts all gentle and polite at first, soft voice, careful smile, texting someone on her phone while pretending to care about his feelings, but everything about her feels wrong in a really good way. The mansion feels cold, huge, empty, and then she’s there in these tight outfits, sitting too close on the couch, touching his arm for no reason, asking him about his old room like she wants to imagine what he did in that bed. Game hits that mix of guilt and lust hard. You’re supposed to be dealing with dead family vibes and “rebuilding bonds”, but the writing constantly shoves you back toward “ok, but what if I just fuck her and ruin everything”.

The phone stuff is what actually hooked me. It’s not just a random menu. She’s on her mobile all the time, like a teenager trapped in a milf body, sending half-innocent selfies that are maybe not so innocent when you stare longer. You check her gallery and it feels like spying, but then she leaves it unlocked on purpose. And yeah, the ntr angle kicks in through that, because you start seeing messages from your dad, from other men, from “unknown” contacts that send her dick pics and money screenshots. Sometimes the game just hits you with a new notification in the corner while you’re trying to be a good son, and it’s this slow, ugly jealousy that builds up. You’re reading dirty chat logs between her and your own father and you still want her more. That’s the fucked up magic right there. I hated it and kept going. That’s on me, I guess.

AI cg is weird here in a good way. Faces shift a bit from scene to scene, expressions feel a little “too perfect”, like she’s an Instagram filter that learned how to talk. In Unreal terms it’s like someone dropped a high quality texture pack on top of a messy prototype and said “yeah, ship it”. Shadows are off sometimes, proportions slip, but it actually sells the fantasy that Isabelly is not totally real, like she’s a curated persona. When she drops the milf act and the futa reveal happens, it doesn’t feel like a twist the game announces with fireworks. It’s just there. She whips it out like it’s the most normal thing in the world and looks at you like you’re the weird one for being shocked. Sex scenes after that are brutal in the humiliating way: she pushes you around, uses your body, calls you sweet names while fucking you like trash, and the game really enjoys making you watch her chat other guys from her bed, still sticky with your cum. One scene on the balcony actually pissed me off: you’re on your knees, she’s stroking herself, city lights behind, and she’s sending a selfie to some other dude while you’re literally right there licking her clean. I alt-tabbed to Telegram to complain to a friend, then went right back in. Story keeps pretending you have a “choice”, but every path feels like you’re walking deeper into her web. I’d change that fake freedom thing, but they won’t, and maybe that’s the point.

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.