Naomi looks like the kind of girl you’d scroll past on Instagram and then scroll back up to stalk a little. Perfect eyeliner, slight smirk like she already knows you’re pathetic for staring at her pictures. The game throws you into that feeling and just keeps pressing on it, like a thumb on a bruise that you don’t really want to heal. You start as this pretty normal guy, nothing special, a little insecure, a bit too online, the type who checks Pornhub in incognito and then clears history twice anyway. Then Naomi starts talking. Not sweet, not loving. She talks in this sharp, almost bored way, like your whole life is content for her, and you feel this horrible mix of being insulted and turned on. The first time she casually calls you “useless” right after showing you that short skirt and talking about her plans with another guy, I literally caught myself biting my lip in front of the screen like an idiot.

What I liked a lot is how the game doesn’t rush the humiliation. It drips it. You’ll be on your phone in-game, reading her texts, and it starts pretty normal, flirty even. Then she lets some tiny things slip, small comments that sting. A “you wouldn’t understand, you’re too soft” here, a “he actually knows how to handle me” there. At first you pretend it’s just banter. You keep choosing the “nice guy” options, thinking you can win her back, fix her, be the hero of this fucked up little love story. Spoiler, you’re not the hero. The turning point for me was one scene where she sends you a selfie in a dark bathroom, lipstick a bit smudged, hair messy, and you already know she hasn’t been alone, the game doesn’t have to spell it out. Your dialogue options are like: pretend you didn’t notice, beg for more pics, or try to act tough and complain. No matter what you pick, she finds a way to twist it and make you the loser. It’s cruel. It’s hot. It’s cruel again. Then right after that the game throws a joke about your porn search history that made me actually laugh out loud, even though my dick was half hard and my pride was fully dead.

There is this thing it does that fucked with my head more than any animated sex scene. Sometimes you get to “choose” if you want to see what she’s doing with other guys. You can look, or you can say no. But the way the text is written, you feel like saying no is the coward choice. Like you’re not just a cuck, you’re a bad cuck. She will tease you either way. If you watch, she mocks you for getting off on it. If you don’t, she hints it was the best sex she ever had and that you missed it. The best part, or maybe the worst part, is how the game makes her insults start sounding like love letters. When she says “you’re only good for watching”, there is this twisted intimacy, like she’s letting you into a secret club where the price of the ticket is your self respect. Sometimes the writing even hits that sweet spot where you forget it’s a game and you catch yourself thinking “if a girl talked to me like this on Telegram I’d probably still stay”. Then one scene later she crosses some line, drags your whole identity through shit, and you swear you hate her. Until she calls you “good boy” once and you’re right back in. It’s fucked. It’s addictive. And the worst part is, it feels a little too real if you ever stayed in a toxic chat for way too long.

UNDAWN: Shackles Of Eternity feels like somebody mashed a grimdark VN, horny gothic Instagram, and a futa porn doujin together, then actually bothered to give the porn a brain. You play as Rhiannon, who looks like the kind of cold, perfect priestess you’d see on a cathedral mural, except she has a cock and way more emotional damage. The world around her is just ruined faith and half-dead gods, with churches that feel more like brothels for the desperate. Every “holy” symbol looks kinda dirty. You’re basically walking through a graveyard of old beliefs, deciding who to fuck and who to sacrifice, while the game keeps asking you quietly, “You sure about that?” and then shows the consequences in bed later. It’s not a power fantasy where you’re some shining savior. Rhiannon feels like a loaded gun that learned how to think. You get romance, sure, but it’s romance that comes with knives hidden under dresses and tongues in places that definitely aren’t holy.

Sex-wise, the game goes pretty hard on futa on female and actually uses the magic shit for more than particle effects. You’re not just clicking through generic “she sucks you off” lines. You get weird little moments like Rhiannon using a whispering spell to make a nun feel every word along her spine, the text describing this chill that rolls down to her ass while you’re already elbow-deep in groping and fingering. First time you push a cute monster girl up against a cracked stained-glass window and her tail wraps around Rhiannon’s thigh while you rail her from behind, it feels personal in a fucked up way. There’s anal and creampies that don’t feel like checkbox porn tags, more like “oh, you chose to promise her safety and instead you’re filling her ass in a back alley behind a dead chapel, good job.” The harem angle is there but messy, poly in the sense that everyone has teeth. The girls fall for Rhiannon and for each other too, so you end up in these lesbian side scenes where Rhiannon watches them eat each other out, only to join, dick out, and turn the whole thing into a pile of limbs, tongues, and cum. Sometimes it’s tender, slow oral with a shy femboy who looks like he stepped out of a BL mobile game. Sometimes it’s Rhiannon pinning a proud knightess to the altar and pounding her until her prayers turn into begging. The mystery stuff wraps around the porn like a noose. You keep thinking you’re choosing who you love and who you fuck, then slowly realize you’re also choosing who loses their soul piece by piece. And the game doesn’t scream this at you. It just shows you the aftermath in the next “romantic” scene, like a girl who used to be all fire letting you slide into her raw and quiet, because she’s finally broken in exactly the way you helped shape.

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.

Kendra walks back into Al-Mara Academy like she owns the place and also kinda hates every brick in it. She is this vampire witch mix, all sharp eyes, big tits, big attitude, and you can feel she is here to fuck things up and also maybe fuck half the staff. The school used to be her home, now it is more like this creepy ex you have unfinished business with. Her old mentor vanished, there is talk about forbidden rituals, monsters in the basement, and students who look way too innocent until they have you pinned against a gothic column with fangs at your throat. The whole place has this strange vibe where a classroom can turn into a crime scene or a sex dungeon with candles and leather in about two clicks. One path you are asking questions about the rector. Next scene you are on your knees in the staff lounge, tasting someone’s secrets while they pull your hair and whisper spells straight into your ear.

What I like is how regular academy shit mixes with the horny and the strange. You are supposed to teach, right, be this serious professor in dark robes, but five minutes later you have a tattooed monster girl with claws tracing your throat, teasing and refusing to give a straight answer unless you let her ride your face. There is a lot going on under the surface. Racial tension between different magical races, old rules broken, new rules nobody respects, and then Kendra trying to keep her cool while her own hunger is constantly poked. Some scenes are soft, like slow romance in a quiet library, fingers brushing over a spellbook before sliding between thighs under the table. Then the game suddenly goes hard into BDSM, collaring, spanking, ropes glowing with runes, a student calling you “Professor” with that stupid ahegao face while you push deep and she clenches around you and begs for creampie like it is extra credit. The tone jumps from mystery to pure filth so fast it feels almost wrong, but in a good “yeah okay ruin me more” kind of way. Sometimes the investigation stops dead because some tall vampire with a big ass leans over the desk and you just forget you were checking clues and not her panties.

Sex here is not just “scene, cum, next.” It feels tangled with power and identity. Female domination pops up a lot, and Kendra is not always the one in control. Sometimes she has a student on their back, legs wide, nails in their hips while she grinds down and makes them choke on her pace. Other times some older witch presses her face into the mattress, whispers a spell, and you feel her tongue and magic at the same time, like she is rewriting you from inside. Oral, vaginal, messy creampies that drip down pale skin, monster girls with weird tongues and tight bodies that are almost human and not quite. In one scene a shy girl in gothic lace finally snaps, shoves Kendra against a stained glass window, bites her lip hard enough to draw blood, and rides her hand with this desperate rhythm while outside the bell tolls like a judge. And you still have to remember which suspect lied to you earlier. Or not. Honestly, half the fun is getting lost in the academy’s shadows and letting its sick little mix of romance, fear, and wet sheets pull you wherever it wants.