Kid grows up in the woods with a horny brain and zero social skills, that’s basically the whole mood here. You play this feral dude who got raised by a she-wolf, then suddenly tossed back into a huge “normal” house full of blood relatives with big tits, big asses and way too much lingerie for any actual family gathering. He’s supposed to “reconnect” with them and act civilized, but his idea of boundaries is what a wolf pack has, so… yeah. That’s where it starts getting filthy fast. The game leans really hard into that contrast: he pads around silently like an animal, but the camera keeps treating his new home like a porn set, zooming in on lace panties riding up a thick milf’s ass while she pretends this is just a completely normal reunion. Watching him stalk through the hallway at night while the blonde is bending over in her thin robe, thinking no one sees her, is honestly the best part. It feels creepy and hot at the same time, which I guess is the point.

The engine is that typical 3dcg VN style, but they really push the curves here. Every woman looks like the artist loves giant boobs more than sleep. There’s the tall milf with soft, heavy breasts that spill out of her bra if you even breathe on the clasp, the goth girl in black lace who acts like she hates everything but still leaves her door cracked open when changing, and the brunette who pretends to be the “responsible one” while walking around the kitchen in a shirt that barely covers her nipples. The MC moves through all this like he’s still in the forest, sniffing around doors, peeking through cracks, groping by “accident” because he literally doesn’t understand that grabbing a handful of big ass in the hallway is not a normal greeting. You get scenes where he’s watching through a half-open door while the blonde tugs off her panties, and the camera lingers way longer than it should on how the fabric sticks to her wet slit before dropping to her ankles. Another time he’s alone with the goth teen in her room, she’s in black stockings and that short skirt, reading, and you get this slow POV shot when his hand slides over her thigh like he’s testing new prey. She slaps him, but the game clearly enjoys that moment way too much to pretend it’s just “story”.

What I actually like is that his wild side is not just a line in the plot. Dialogues are rough, he mispronounces things, asks super blunt questions about bodies and sex, and the choices often boil down to “try to act like a normal guy” or “follow your animal instinct and touch what your eyes are glued to”. Early on you can sneak under the milf’s blanket while she’s sleeping, nose almost pressed between those big breasts, just breathing her in, hand hovering over her nipple until you give in and pinch it. She wakes up moaning before she realizes what’s going on, and yeah, that scene is dirty in a way that sticks in your head. Another time he corners the brunette in the laundry room, fascinated by a pair of her lacy panties hanging there, and she catches him sniffing them, face half buried in the fabric. The writing pretends to be shocked, but the camera is doing overtime on every curve of her body while she’s scolding him. It’s not really subtle. The only thing that drives me crazy is how one of the doors in the corridor always looks like it should open to some secret voyeur scene, with the goth masturbating or something, but no, it just does nothing, every single click. I know it’s probably for a later update, but it taunts me every time I pass by, like “hey, there’s more pervy stuff here” and then, nothing.

Guy just wants some cold air and maybe a drink, ends up trapped in the quietest, horniest little horror-comedy grocery store on earth. That’s the vibe here. You walk in, sun burning your brain, and suddenly the outside world just kind of... blinks out. The door locks, shelves feel slightly wrong, lights flicker like they’re trying to flirt, and there she is behind the counter: tiny goth clerk with a stare like she already knows exactly how weak you are. Not the cliché latex dominatrix thing, more like “sleep-deprived art major who could crush your soul with one sarcastic comment” mixed with “MILF energy in training,” if that makes sense. Big tits under a cheap t‑shirt, jeans, zero effort styling, but somehow she looks like a walking fetish ad that forgot to be subtle.

The weird part is, nothing technically “happens.” No actual sex, no naked bodies flying around, nobody jumping your dick. It’s all edging, all mind games, like the game is blueballing you on purpose and laughing. She’ll lean over the counter just a little too far, bend down to grab something so her ass lines up perfectly with your eyes, stretch like she’s in a yoga ad, then act like you’re the creep for looking. She calls you out for every tiny reaction, every stolen glance, like she’s reading your browser history in real time. At one point she casually drops a line about how “guys like you are easy to rewire” and the screen does this tiny flicker and yeah, you feel it. Not jump scare, more like you skipped a frame in your own head. You’re not sure if she’s hypnotic or just really good at gaslighting, but you start clicking through lines faster, waiting for some kind of payoff that never quite lands. It’s a kinetic novel, so no choices, no branches, you’re just strapped into her vibe. That’s kinda annoying and kinda perfect. You keep thinking “ok, next scene she’s gonna finally do something,” and instead she just mocks you, teases harder, leans in with that bored stare and explains exactly how she could make you crawl with a single word. Then nothing. Then a joke. Then she looks straight at you again and tells you you’re breathing too loud.

What got me is how the voyeurism hits without any peepholes or secret cams. You’re just there, stuck, watching her do normal clerk stuff while she very obviously watches you watching her. It flips around, like you become the thing on display. She wipes down the counter real slow, checks her phone, pops gum, types something you can’t see, then smiles in that “yeah, I just changed something in your brain” way. At one point she makes you read signs on the wall, stupid boring rules, but the text starts feeling like commands, like she’s training a dog. She never raises her voice, never goes full “kneel, worm” mode, but you still feel dominated, like your dick is on a leash you can’t see. The humor is messed up in a good way too; she’ll roast your porn tastes, call out your search terms, then switch to dead-serious for two lines and talk about control and consent like a late-night TED talk in a haunted 7‑Eleven, then immediately ask if you’re thirsty. Zero subtle transition. The art is rough but kinda perfect for it, she’s cute and a little off-model from scene to scene, which almost sells the idea your memory is being edited. There’s no big climax, no “and then you bang her” scene, it just leaves you horny, slightly confused, and lowkey worried she’s going to show up in your dreams and make you apologize for scrolling Twitter during the dialogue.

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.

You find yourself in the heart of Central Park, where a goth girl waits, tangled in her own dark thoughts. She’s wrapped in black lace and leather, eyes flickering with a mix of fear and desire, begging for someone to listen. Your task is to calm her down, unravel the knots in her mind, and guide her through the storm of her anxious thoughts.

The conversation starts slow, tentative whispers beneath rustling leaves, as you gently coax her to open up about what haunts her. You listen intently, your presence a balm that begins to dissolve her tension, bit by bit.

As the hours pass, the air thick with unspoken desires, the mood shifts - no longer just a therapy session, but a dance of seduction fueled by vulnerability. Her body, once tense and withdrawn, now leans into your warmth, craving more than just emotional release.

Finally, after breaking down the barriers of anxiety and doubt, you’re free to explore every inch of her exquisite form. Your passion spills over, leaving marks of your desire across her body, each touch a declaration of ownership.

This is more than a simple rendezvous in the park - it’s a raw journey into the depths of desire, vulnerability, and control. If you crave a mix of psychological depth and erotic thrill, this encounter will pull you into its dark, intoxicating web.

So step closer, listen to her story, unravel her fears - and then claim the night as your own.