You wake up in this weird in‑between place that feels like someone smashed a porn studio, a nerd convention and a haunted house together and forgot to clean up the lore. Nobody is surprised you just popped in from some random reality. They’re more interested in your dick, your schedule, and whether you sign the consent forms. It’s all very casual. People wander around half-dressed, fully naked, or in outfits that probably break like three different labor laws, but everyone treats it like just another workday. You’re the new guy with way too much freedom and way too little supervision, which is exactly how the game likes it.

The whole thing plays like a lazy day on your phone when you should be answering emails but instead you’re switching between Pornhub, F95, and Telegram. One minute you’re flirting with a stacked milf who has that “I’ve ruined men before” vibe, next minute you accidentally wander into a horror-themed set where a monster girl is chained up for a scene and asks if you want to “rehearse” the tentacle bit. There’s this nice rhythm where you can just walk around, peek into rooms, catch people mid-blowjob or bent over a couch, and decide if you want to join, watch from the dark corner, or act like a professional and go buy coffee. Nobody forces you into anything, which is honestly kinda hot when some cocky actress rolls her eyes and goes “Then don’t, I’ve got five more guys on call.” The power fantasy is there, but it doesn’t hold your hand. You pick who you chase, who you ignore, who you keep as that one late-night regular you always come back to for a quick creampie before touching anything else.

What sells it for me is how filthy it goes without pretending to be classy. You’ve got big tits stuffed into outfits three sizes too small, big asses that just beg for a hard slap, anal scenes that start with teasing and end with “okay, that looked like it hurt but she’s smiling so fine.” There’s straight stuff, lesbian scenes where two girls forget the camera and just devour each other, some surprisingly tender gay content that makes the male MC feel more like a real perv than a porn robot, and then those group things where everyone is on everyone and you basically give up trying to label what’s happening and just enjoy the mess. The voyeur side is strong too; half of my early game was just me peeking through windows or pretending to look for props while people got railed in the background. There’s this old gilf studio manager who flirts so aggressively you kind of hope she finally drags you into her office and “negotiates your contract” on her desk, but she keeps getting interrupted by some stupid production issue and it drove me insane. And then you forget because a monster girl with horns and drool on her chin asks if you wanna try something “unsafe for YouTube but perfect for here,” and suddenly you’re on your knees, nobody’s talking about contracts anymore, and your only real problem is deciding which of these insane people you’re going to keep in your personal little harem ending once you’ve seen enough to know exactly how wrong this place can get in the best possible way.

The reunion starts awkward as hell, honestly. You're back with these girls you used to know everything about, but now they're all grown up with curves that definitely weren't there before. Sarah's got this whole MILF thing going on now, massive tits barely contained in her sweater, while Jessica's ass has filled out in ways that make you forget how to form sentences. The cabin feels smaller than you remember, or maybe everyone just got bigger in all the right places.

What gets weird though is how the whole weekend keeps... repeating? Like you'll be getting a handjob from one of them behind the kitchen counter, then suddenly you're back at Friday night again. Except this time you remember what happened, so you can push things further. Maybe instead of just watching Sarah breastfeed her kid through the crack in the door, you actually walk in and see what happens. The lactation scenes hit different when you're not just some creepy voyeur - she actually wants you there, wants you to taste what she's offering. The game doesn't explain the time loop thing much, but honestly who cares when you're building a harem of your childhood friends?

The lesbian content comes out of nowhere but it works. Watching them explore each other while you're getting a titjob from someone else creates this whole group dynamic that feels natural despite being completely insane. Sometimes you're groping multiple girls at once, sometimes you're just observing them figure out their own desires. The reunion becomes less about catching up and more about catching feelings, or at least catching orgasms. Each loop lets you shape different relationships - maybe this time you focus on the shy one who gives incredible blowjobs, or maybe you corrupt the innocent one until she's begging for more. The CG scenes are unpolished but they capture that raw, desperate energy of people making up for lost time.

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.

Rowan is supposed to be the boring happy-ending guy. War hero, tiny village, hot wife who actually loves him, all that fairy tale stuff. Then the game basically grabs him by the balls and drags him back into the kind of world you’d expect from some depressed fantasy writer who jerks off to demon girls. You start with this vibe of “retired hero, quiet married life,” and in like five clicks you’re knee-deep in demons, cult shit, political mess, and way too many chances to ruin your marriage just because somebody looked at you with glowing eyes and big tits. It pretends to be about grand fantasy and the six kingdoms, peace after the big war, blah blah, but the real hook is watching Rowan and Alexia slowly bend, crack, and sometimes completely snap under pressure. You’re pushing them into deals with monsters and nobles, letting them get corrupted, watching them cheat or get used, then acting surprised like “wow, how did this happen.” Yeah, sure. Totally an accident when you sent your wife into that obviously horny monster girl’s lair in lingerie.

The whole thing is built around choices that feel like you’re playing with their souls instead of stats. Sometimes you’re managing the castle and moving troops, and it looks almost normal, like a strategy sim wearing a cheap porn costume. Then out of nowhere you’re arranging a threesome, or letting your hero get pegged by some smug demon, or forcing him to watch as his wife “negotiates” with a noble who has more gold than morals. One moment you’re clicking through political scenes that feel straight out of some low-budget Witcher fanfic, next you’re in a sweaty lesbian ritual with a priestess who clearly skipped the part of the holy book about modesty. There are futa demons with cocks that look like they have their own skill tree, horny elves who act like they discovered group sex and never stopped, and that one early scene where you know you shouldn’t flirt with the mysterious woman, but your dick does the decision-making and the game quietly writes your marriage’s death flag in the background. Sometimes it leans into female domination so hard Rowan basically turns into a toy in his own story, and sometimes you steer Alexia into being the one who gets off on being “pure” while doing the filthiest oral in the realm. Half the fun is that you’re never really sure if you’re still the hero, or just the bastard pulling all the strings while the world rots in a very hot, very wet way.