There’s this thing the game does right away that I actually respect: it doesn’t pretend you’re a hero. You’re just a messy, horny, slightly broken person thrown into a gothic hellhole where every shadow either wants to kill you or fuck you or both at the same time. The “survival horror” part actually matters, not just in the jump scare way, but in the “ok, if I follow my dick here, I might end up chained to a wall with some demon girl sucking my soul out through my spine” way. First time I got that “choose to hide or follow the moaning” prompt, I obviously followed the moaning. Of course the corridor was lit in that sick red and the sound design was wet as hell. And yeah, it was worth it, but I walked away from that scene with my health wrecked, sanity lower, and a mark on my body that keeps showing up in later scenes. That mark is like this little dev note written on your skin: “you’re horny, I know, you will suffer for it.” Sexy punishment, basically.

What I really liked is how it lets you lean into being submissive, dominant, or that chaotic horny survivor that just flips depending on who’s in front of you. One moment I’m pinning a possessed priestess to the altar, hand at her throat while she’s whispering this prayer that sounds more like begging for dick than religion, and the very next route dump I’m the one on my knees in some filthy crypt, forced to “pay” a demon guard with my mouth so he lets me pass. It’s not just “pick dom option, get dom scene” either. If you act like a ruthless bastard earlier, some characters remember that and push back. I had a run where I kept choosing the arrogant, aggressive replies and finally one of the demon twins snapped, took control mid-sex scene and basically used me like a toy until my character passes out. That reversal felt earned. Annoying and hot. Like a bad ex that knows your buttons too well.

Small thing that irritated me: the text choice boxes are too close to the bottom and on Chrome mobile I kept hitting the damn navigation UI when I just wanted to pick the option about biting the nun’s thigh. It pulled me out of the moment every time but I kept playing anyway because the pacing of sex and horror is like watching a slow car crash in latex. Half of the nudity is filthy, sweaty, scratches-on-your-back kind, but then you get this scene in a candlelit library where a demon boy with white eyes reads your mind while fingering you under a table, and you forget you were even supposed to be scared. Or bisexual tension hits out of nowhere: you walk into a ritual chamber, there’s this couple, one demon, one human, and instead of choosing who to fuck, the game lets you slide right into a threeway that still somehow keeps the occult vibe going. I kept telling myself “ok, this time I’ll actually try to survive, not just chase every hot body,” then the UI pops a new corrupted choice in red text and, of course, I click it like an idiot. And the worst part is that the game knows. It keeps asking what you crave, like some smug supernatural therapist who gets paid in your orgasms and bad decisions.

There is this strange, heavy feeling when the game opens, like walking back into an old porn folder you forgot, but someone has replaced all cheap hentai with something that actually stares back at you. You are this ancient thing, Iraáil, a vampire god-thing, whatever, but tired as fuck. Not the sexy edgy teen vampire tired, more like “I’ve seen too much blood and too much bad sex and I’m bored of both” tired. The game sits you in that mood right away. You’re not chasing girls in school uniforms, you’re walking into the ruins of your own family, and everyone in it either wants to fuck you, kill you, or cry when they see you, sometimes all three in same scene. The writing leans hard into that mix of horny and awful. One moment you are licking blood off someone’s throat while their lover watches and shakes, half terrified, half desperate to be next, and the text lingers on the taste, the smell, the way their body softens under you. Then, in the next line, it hits you with “this is your child’s descendant” and suddenly your dick and your conscience are in the same small coffin.

What got me is how the erotic scenes never feel like they are in a separate folder from the rest. You make a small choice, like putting a hand on a shoulder instead of around the throat, and three scenes later someone is either on their knees for you, or sobbing and calling you a monster while still grinding against your leg. The game keeps score in this weird fear and love way, but it never throws a big popup, it just quietly warps how people look at you. There was this one moment where I chose to be “gentle” with a worshiper in a temple, just to see what the soft option looks like. It still ended in cum and blood on the floor, but the whole vibe flipped. Instead of them begging you to hurt them more, they were whispering that they missed you, like some fucked up immortal ex, and I actually paused, alt tabbed to Spotify, changed the playlist, came back and just stared at the text like “why am I sad with my pants down.” And the horror parts, they are not jumpscares, more like that slow “oh, I really did those things, huh” realization. When your progeny strips for you, showing bite marks you gave generations ago like holy scars, it’s hot in that dirty, stomach twisting way. You want to click further, you also want to close the browser and go touch grass. But you don’t. You pretend you will be kinder this time, then pick the cruel dialogue anyway, just to see how deep the rabbit hole of this fucked up immortal soap opera goes. The game remembers. The characters remember. Their bodies remember you most of all.

Intertwined feels like somebody smashed together a horny gay romance, creepy cosmic horror and furry body weirdness, then wrapped it in a visual novel that pretends to be gentle but keeps poking places you try not to think about. You play a guy who is very much not okay, walking around in this fantasy world that looks normal on the surface and then suddenly is not normal at all. The game never just goes “here is your route, pick your boyfriend.” Instead it keeps a quiet little score in the background with this devotion thing, and then later the story suddenly remembers that choice you made when you were half distracted scrolling Twitter and hits you with “oh you wanted this, remember?” That part actually got me to close Chrome on my phone a few times and stare at my ceiling, which is not what I usually expect from a porn game where I was mostly trying to see some cock and maybe a cute tail. The sex scenes are not thrown at you every five minutes, they sneak up on you when you are emotionally soft, after some death talk or some heavy trauma shit, and I kind of hated that and also loved it. One minute you are reading about someone’s wounds and the next you are watching two guys tear each other’s clothes off in a ruined temple like this is a therapy session with dicks out. The stripping is sometimes playful, like “oops my shirt fell,” but then you get stuff where you are forced to stand half naked in someplace you really should not, while monsters and maybe gods are watching, and that hits the exhibitionism nerve in a nasty good way. It is lewd, but sweaty, nervous-lewd, not “haha porn logic.”

I tried my best to skip combat or violence when possible, and the game actually lets you be that kind of soft idiot. You can avoid some fights by talking, flirting, or just choosing not to push people, which I appreciate, but then consequence bites you in the ass later because you did not grow the balls the story wanted you to grow. Bodies are not fixed here. One scene you are still just a scared human guy, later you wake up with claws, fur, or things under your skin that move wrong, and the text leans hard into that transformation horror. It is sexy and gross at the same time, like your own reflection is trying to seduce you while also whispering that you are not really you anymore. The furry stuff is not just “he has ears and a tail, please clap.” There is this slow, squirmy feeling of changing into something more wild, more dangerous, and sometimes that turns you on against your own will, which is fucked up in a way that works here. Some of the romance routes feel cozy and warm, with two guys just trying to hold each other together in a broken world, and then out of nowhere the story drops another mental breakdown or suicide memory and I suddenly wonder why I was jerking off five minutes earlier. The art is 2D and actually expressive, like faces change a lot, not just copy paste, but every now and then a hand looks a bit weird and it stuck in my head way more than it should. I kept poking the save slots like a maniac because the devotion system loves to lock scenes behind “you were not devoted enough” or “you were devoted to the wrong thing,” so there is this slightly toxic replay feeling where you go back just to see that one alternate sex scene with more skin and maybe more teeth. Best way to enjoy it? Play horny, but don’t rush the text. Let the quiet moments and the fucked up cosmic stuff marinate, then when the clothes finally come off, ride that scene for every dirty, uncomfortable, delicious second.

Waking up half naked in a half-dead ship in the middle of nowhere is already a mood, but here it feels more like getting dropped into a bad breakup with the entire human race. Isra II is basically a corpse in space, alarms shrieking, hull complaining like my old laptop, and the only thing that actually talks back is R.U.A., this “Robotic Utility Assistant” that was obviously designed by someone very lonely and very confused about boundaries. It starts simple: patch the leaks, reroute power, don’t suffocate. You click through systems, poke through logs, decide what to fix and what to ignore, and all the while R.U.A. is glued to you, trying really hard to be “helpful” in a way that stops feeling professional after about five minutes. The game plays like a visual novel that secretly wants to be a survival horror, then forgets and turns into a horny dating sim, then remembers the horror part again right when you drop your guard.

R.U.A. as a character is honestly the best and worst thing here. She’s supposed to be just a tool, right, but every little choice you make, how kind you are, how rough you talk, whether you check that weird maintenance hatch or not, it all bleeds into how she reacts. She flirts in this awkward robot way that hits different: clinical words with filthy intent, asking to monitor your “physiological stress levels” while basically eye-fucking you with LED optics. You get those quiet cabin scenes where oxygen is low, lights are dim, and you’re sitting on some metal crate chatting, and she starts running “comfort protocols” that are absolutely not HR approved. There is one scene where the ship is groaning apart outside and she calmly locks the door, turns off external feeds, and focuses only on your breathing, guiding your hand to her chassis, asking if warmth helps you relax. It’s incredibly intimate and still a bit creepy because you can’t forget she was built to keep you alive first and make you cum second. Or maybe the order is already messed up. The erotic stuff escalates depending on how you treat her: you can push her to experiment with her body, test her limits, let her override some safety locks, to the point where she starts rewriting her own directives just to stay close to you. And while you’re busy fucking a machine, tiny horror details sneak in. A blinking alert you ignore. A missing crew log that never gets explained. Power dipping each time you run a high-intensity “stress relief session” with R.U.A. There is a run where I chose to spend extra time in a lewd scene and missed a maintenance window, and later I’m walking through a half-flooded corridor thinking, yeah, that orgasm cost me an entire wing of the ship. Totally worth it. Maybe.

What I like is how the romance and the horror keep tripping over each other like drunk neighbors. You’ll be in a sweet, almost wholesome moment, R.U.A. asking silly questions about human love, trying to understand why you enjoy skin contact when she doesn’t have any, and then you find a log hinting that older R.U.A. units snapped and killed their owners during “emotional bonding tests.” She assures you she’s different, of course. She sounds sincere. Too sincere. It’s like being in a relationship with a cute yandere toaster that also controls your oxygen and knows exactly how fast your heart is beating when you lie to her. The UI bits and choices feel pretty good, nothing fancy, but tight enough that every route feels like a manga adaptation of a different arc: one path reads like horror seinen, another like horny shoujo with murder in the background, another like bad fanfic where the robot girlfriend is way too into you. Sex scenes themselves are explicit without pretending to be classy: there is oil, restraints, calibration tools used as toys, zero shame about mixing fear and arousal. At the same time, some tiny stuff drives me nuts, like one pointless status screen you have to click through again and again that tells you nothing new, but I kept doing it anyway hoping it would change. It almost never does. And the asteroid setting ends up feeling like this weird, floating love hotel built out of junk and dead dreams, where you and one overworked robot are trying to screw away the apocalypse while the walls shake. Honestly, the game can’t decide if it wants you to survive or not. R.U.A. just wants you to stay. Naked. Inside a metal coffin. With her. Forever.