It’s messy in the best way. You’re some kind of half-drunk alchemist in a vampire’s den, tossing glowing ingredients into a cauldron that looks suspiciously alive, waiting to see if it spits out gold, slime, or a moaning succubus with tits like forbidden fruit. The game doesn’t explain much, just lets you mix weird shit - holy water, demon ichor, maybe a drop of your own sweat - and then bam, the screen flashes and suddenly you’re staring at a futa nun grinding against a bound werewolf priest. It’s ridiculous, but you can’t stop clicking. The logic makes no sense and that’s kind of the point. Sometimes you get a soft scene, a slow kiss between a vampire girl and her human pet. Other times, tentacles, everywhere, like the game’s trying to outdo itself in how far it’ll go before you blush or laugh.

There’s something about the tone - half gothic, half horny fever dream - that makes it feel like the devs were just daring each other to see what the next transmutation would unlock. The art shifts between elegant and unhinged; one moment you’re admiring the lighting on a pale thigh, next you’re staring at a corrupted angel with too many wings and not enough shame. The alchemy system feels more like foreplay than crafting. You think you’re mixing for power, but really you’re just chasing the next perverse reveal. I tried to keep track of the endings but gave up after the third one involved a talking dildo that might’ve been sentient.

The weirdest part? It’s kind of beautiful. Between the absurd fetishes and over-the-top transformations, there’s this pulse of dark humor and lust that keeps it alive. It’s not about winning or finishing - it’s about curiosity, that itch that says “what if I mix blood and holy oil again?” Do it. The game rewards the reckless.

The first time I logged into this thing, I didn’t even care about the classes or whatever plot it pretends to have - the way the avatars breathe, the tiny tremor in their lips before a kiss, that’s what got me. It’s like the devs poured all their soul into making skin look touchable. There’s this one girl in a half-armored cosplay outfit, silver hair glowing like some digital eclipse, and when she leans close, her breath fogs your screen. Maybe I imagined that, but hell, it felt real. The sci-fi cities behind her hum like they’re alive, something between a nightclub and a dream you shouldn’t be having. The game doesn’t shout about its mechanics, but when you figure out how to sync movement and body sensors, it’s almost too much - like your nerves are being rewritten to crave every vibration.

Sometimes the story pretends to be about mystery - a missing player, a corrupted zone - but nobody’s really fooling anyone. The real puzzle is how long you can last before giving in to pure heat. The VR immersion slips between sweet and filthy faster than your mind can keep up; one moment you’re chatting with a student NPC about history, next she’s on her knees, glasses sliding down, eyes wide like she’s learning anatomy for the first time. There’s group stuff too, awkward at first until it’s not. Someone mentioned modders replaced the background drones with moaning echoes; I laughed until it happened in my session and I swear it made everything feel more chaotic and alive. The music, though? Too clean. Needs something grittier, maybe a heartbeat instead of these sterile synths.

I still can’t get over the fact that clothing physics act like they’ve got personalities - skirts that refuse to stay where they should, latex that remembers your touch. You can taste the future here, but it’s messy and dripping and maybe a bit too honest. Every time I log out, reality feels thinner, like a veil that won’t settle right.

You start broke as hell with this pretty normal, kind of shy wife, and it feels almost innocent at first. Just you, her, some money problems, cheap phone camera, tiny apartment. Feels like a boring life sim at the beginning, talking about bills and favors and that old buddy from school who suddenly shows up looking way too rich and way too confident. Then one small choice about filming “just a little something” for cash turns into this spiral of “ok, what if we try one more thing” and suddenly you’re not really sure if you’re filming porn, selling your pride, or both.

What I liked is how the wife doesn’t wake up one day and go full pornstar. She starts nervous, asking you if the angle is ok, worrying about her makeup, blushing when she licks you on camera for the first time. You see her slowly getting used to being watched. First it’s only you holding the phone and trying not to shake it when she goes down on you. Then the old friend shows up with his stupid grin, “helping” with better lighting and some “ideas,” and suddenly you are behind the camera while your own wife is on her knees for another guy who is clearly bigger, darker, more confident, just owning the scene while you pretend it’s all for money. There is this messed up thrill where you tell yourself you are the director, but you know you’re just the guy zooming in while your wife gets used like a toy.

Pulls feel like a gacha session for my dignity. I sit there clicking through scenes like rolling for a new outfit, except here it’s “will she let him cum on her face this time” or “are we going to try a second guy” or “does she ask for it herself.” That moment when she stops looking at you for approval and starts looking at the other man’s cock instead, that shit hit harder than any SSR drop. I was like, ok, I came for a simple hotwife thing and now I’m halfway lost in some mental NTR rabbit hole, watching my own avatar zoom in on his wife getting stretched in positions they never did together. There is this one scene where you’re behind the camera and she moans another dude’s name by accident, and the game just lets it hang there. No dramatic music, no big popup, just that little text box and her mouth full of someone else, and you feel your stomach flip while your dick gets even harder. I hated that, and then I replayed it three times. I swear this game made me discover I’m way more into watching my “units” get stolen than actually winning. Anyway, I was going to complain about the UI somewhere here, but I kind of forgot what I was talking about.

FSS Lamashtu feels like somebody mashed up a cold war naval thriller with a filthy space brothel and then forgot which part was supposed to be serious. You’re the freshly minted captain of this “experimental cruiser” that is absolutely not built for exploration, unless you count exploring how many holes your crew can take in a single patrol. Officially it’s the proud weapon of the Alliance, last hope in a long-ass war. Unofficially it’s your floating fuck-lab, staffed with officers who look like they came out of a horny AI art generator after you typed “war crime but sexy” too many times. The ship layout screen is almost a character by itself: bridge, medbay, cargo, those little tucked-away compartments you quickly learn are perfect for “private disciplinary sessions.” You jump between menus pretending to care about fleet orders, but the only thing you actually remember is which corridor you cornered that technician in when she kept “accidentally” brushing her giant tits against you.

The story likes to pretend it’s about geopolitics and rebellion, and sometimes it even tricks you. You’ll get this long briefing about the Neo-Terran strategic line, convoy raids, morale of the Alliance, all that stuff. Then two clicks later, you’re watching a proud enemy pilot on her knees, mascara running, mouth full of cum while she tries to spit out her rank and serial number. The tone whiplash is almost funny. There’s a certain charm in how the game refuses to pick a lane: you capture prisoners, you break them in slowly or just slam straight into collar-and-chain slavery, you’re supposed to feel the “moral weight” of it, but the next scene has them begging for anal like they read the script ahead of time. The AI CG does that exaggerated wetness thing, where every hole looks like you dumped a bucket of lube on it, and every creampie is this ridiculous white flood that should qualify as a bio-weapon. Sometimes the faces twist into that extreme, over-the-top ahegao that doesn’t even look human anymore, more like a melted idol poster, and it somehow fits this world where war propaganda and porn have fused into one genre.

What sticks in my mind most is how physical the ship starts to feel. You’re not just choosing sex options, you’re shaping routines. That science officer who starts with stiff posture and carefully zipped uniform? A few “private evaluations” in your quarters, and suddenly she’s walking around with visible bite marks on her neck, trying not to react when you casually grope her in front of others. There’s a scene in the hangar where two captured enemy girls are supposed to be processed for interrogation, and you can decide if that means basic questions or “group demonstration of Alliance hospitality.” The way their bodies are posed, covered in semen from multiple angles, has that bukkake ritual vibe, everyone participating because the war needs “unity.” You get toy usage too, not just as accessories but as tools of control: a vibrator left inside during a formal strategy meeting, the slow dawning horror on your new slave’s face when she realizes the remote is in your pocket while admirals talk about casualties. The game never really resolves whether you’re a genius commander or just a sex-obsessed tyrant who got lucky with experimental hardware. At some point there’s a tender-ish lesbian moment tucked awkwardly between brutal scenes, two crew girls comforting each other after a mission, fingers exploring, tongues slow and hesitant, and for once you’re not in the frame at all. It feels almost like the game forgot its own premise for a second, then remembers, throws you back into forced deepthroat in a dark interrogation room, and moves on like nothing happened.