The earthquake drill thing is such a weird plot device, honestly. Like, who thought "natural disaster simulation" would be the perfect meet-cute scenario? But whatever, it gets you roommates with Riley and that's where things get interesting. This femboy graphic designer has serious emotional baggage - the kind that makes you want to both protect him and corrupt him at the same time. His whole deal about being harassed and discriminated against feels real enough, even if the setup is janky.

Riley's got this vulnerable thing going on that hits different. He's not just some stereotypical uwu softboy - there's actual depth here with his insecurity about his work, his sexuality, his place in the world. The visual novel mechanics are pretty standard fare, nothing groundbreaking, but the writing around his character development surprised me. When he opens up about his past relationships and the shit he's dealt with, it doesn't feel like cheap trauma porn. Though I gotta say, some of the dialogue choices are weirdly specific - like why can I ask him about his skincare routine but not his actual job stress?

The adult content builds naturally instead of just throwing sex scenes at you every five minutes. Riley's sexual awakening feels earned, especially when he starts getting more confident and assertive. The art style works well for what it's trying to do, though I wish there were more clothing options during the... interactive moments. Also, why does every yaoi game have to make such a big deal about who's topping? Like, switches exist, developers. The emotional payoff when Riley finally trusts you enough to be completely vulnerable is genuinely sweet, even if the path there involves some questionable dialogue trees. Could use more variety in the intimate scenes though - feels like they ran out of steam halfway through development.

Lena’s story starts quiet and a bit awkward, like that first shift at a new job where everything smells like old paper and furniture polish. She’s this shy girl dumped into a huge, old library that feels way too big for her. The game really leans into that silence. No jumps right away, no cheap “boo.” Just you, a slow crawl through dusty corridors, and Lena’s brain slowly getting louder than any sound effect. At first she’s just shelving books, logging weird titles, trying not to embarrass herself in front of the other staff. But the place has this almost wet, sticky atmosphere to it, especially in those restricted sections where the lights flicker in that “this is absolutely unsafe” way. There are these books that feel wrong before you even open them, and the game lets you just linger on them, making you choose if Lena peeks inside or pretends she’s a good girl. Of course she peeks. The erotic stuff doesn’t slap you in the face from the first click. It creeps in at the edges of her thoughts. Tiny flashes. A phrase in a book that hits way too close. A touch from a co-worker that lasts slightly longer than it should. A dream sequence where she’s not sure if that shadow touching her is a ghost, a god, or just her own pent-up frustration trying to cosplay as a demon. All that gets tied into this subtle horror vibe, like something in that library is watching her, gently pushing her to test herself, maybe ruin herself a bit. The sexy scenes feel like you’re reading Lena’s diary after she got horny on the bus and tried to pretend she wasn’t.

The game lets you lean her in different directions with your choices, and that part caught me. You can keep her timid and flustered, or you start letting her accept what turns her on, even when it’s clearly unhealthy. There’s a moment where she reads this ritual text that mixes religious guilt with raw, filthy desire, and you get the option to stop or keep reciting. I kept going, obviously, and the way her internal monologue shifts from “I shouldn’t” to “please more” is way hotter than any random porn animation. That same scene also has a little audio glitch that made my headphones crackle like broken ASMR, which annoyed me so much I had to pause, and then I went straight back because the writing had me by the throat. Also, the queer threads are handled in this messy, human way. She catches herself staring too long at a girl from the staff, and then later the unseen presence starts mimicking that girl’s voice in Lena’s fantasies. It’s fucked up, but in that “ok, I get why she’s wet and terrified at the same time” kind of way. The horror never fully jumps out with fangs, it just keeps suggesting that maybe the thing guiding her is inside her own head, or maybe it’s some horny eldritch archivist grooming her into a new role. I kept waiting for a cheap tentacle cliché that never properly arrived, which somehow made the teasing even more frustrating. Also, her shoes make this stupid little sound on the library floor and it drove me crazy, and I still don’t know why that detail stuck more than some plot points. Anyway, it’s a slow, sticky burn, more about watching a quiet girl pull herself apart choice by choice, page by page, until she’s not sure if she’s praying, masturbating, or both.

The first time I booted this game, I thought it’d just be another lazy resort sim with some cheap fanservice. But then that first morning scene hit - sunlight leaking through the blinds, the air kind of heavy, and one of the staff leaning against the counter like they owned the place. The way they smirked while pretending to take your breakfast order? That’s when I realized it wasn’t trying to be subtle about anything. It’s messy in a way that feels intentional, like the devs knew players would pause just to stare at the little details: the half-buttoned shirt, the awkward silence before someone says something filthy but sweet. And maybe I’m projecting, but there’s a weird tenderness hiding beneath all the teasing. Not everyone will notice it, which makes it even better somehow.

I’ll admit, the sandbox part confused me at first. One minute you’re managing room upgrades, the next you’re being dragged into a “staff meeting” that turns into something else entirely. It’s funny how the game pretends to care about finances when all you really want is to see who breaks character first. The dialogue sometimes feels like it was written by someone drunk on their own fantasies - but that’s part of the charm. There’s this one event where you’re supposed to discipline an employee for slacking off, and instead it spirals into a slow, deliberate exchange that’s equal parts punishment and confession. I hated how long it took to trigger that scene, then immediately replayed it twice. The art’s inconsistent, sure, but when the lighting hits right during those late-night sequences, it’s almost too intimate. Like you shouldn’t be watching, but you can’t look away.

And yeah, maybe the pacing drags when you’re grinding for upgrades, but then again, the quiet moments between chaos feel like catching your breath after a kiss that went too far. It’s not perfect. It’s not even pretending to be. But it’s got that strange pulse - half-romance, half-bad-decision - that keeps looping in your head long after the screen fades black.

Riveroaks looks like one of those nice West Coast towns from Instagram, but this game keeps poking the dirty meat under the skin. You play this broke guy who gets kicked out of home and suddenly finds out his estranged dad is a porn mogul with a new gay studio that needs a handler. Not in the fun BDSM sense. In the “sign contracts and worry about profits while staring at six packs” sense. Half the time you are trying to pretend you are a professional businessman, the other half you are trying not to get a visible boner during casting. The fun part is how casual the world treats sex. Everyone already knows you are Leonard King’s kid. Baristas flirt with you like they want a role, gym bros stretch way too close, and every conversation has this small chance to slide into filth. One second someone is talking about lighting, the next they are describing exactly how they want to be fucked on camera, and the game just goes “yeah this is normal”. As a horror nerd I like when a city feels like it has a pulse, and Riveroaks kind of hums like something alive and wet. Every location feels like a different fetish altar. The arcade with sticky neon, the gym with its sweaty muscle cult, the cute café where the “nice guy” director talks about art and then asks if you are comfortable filming a three-way with a choke scene. None of this is subtle. Sometimes it is hilarious and awkward and horny at the same time, like when you are reviewing test footage and realize the actor is staring straight into the camera, dirty talking you of all people, and the dialogue actually acknowledges your flustered silence instead of pretending you are a blank self insert.

What surprised me is how much the management part and the romance keep stepping on each other’s toes. You choose what kind of scenes to produce, who to cast together, what kinks to push, and later you have to sit with the people you just turned into “content” and maybe flirt with them, or listen when they tell you about their trauma, or both. There is this one moment where you schedule a shoot with a cocky twink and a quiet older guy, thinking “ok, this will sell, simple power play vibe”, and by the time you watch the preview cut you realize they actually clicked emotionally in between all the deepthroating. Then the game asks you, softly but not really gently, if you want to push them harder next time for profit or let them have a slower, sweeter scene. Of course I picked the darker option because I am weak and also curious. The aftermath hit harder than I expected, but then the next scene is just a stupidly funny argument in a bistro over whose ass looks better on camera, so your feelings never get to settle. It is messy, like real life, only with a lot more cum. The main character is weirdly relatable too. Not some porn god, just this slightly lost young dude who keeps flipping between horny, bitter, and accidentally caring. One route has you teasing a muscular cameraman in the locker room, trading nasty jokes until he corners you in the shower and asks if you are just playing or if you want him to ruin you for real. Another has you sharing late night drinks with an actor who looks like he walked out of a yaoi doujin, talking about family while his hand sits a little too high on your thigh. The sex scenes commit. They use the dirty words, they linger on bodies, they let you taste that feeling of being looked at like fresh meat. Sometimes the pacing goes weird and you jump from intense emotional build up to “ok, we are sucking dick now” with almost no breath, but honestly that clumsy cut has its own charm. Porn is rarely tidy. In my head I almost read Riveroaks like a cult story, only the cult is gay porn, and instead of summoning Cthulhu you are summoning audience engagement with horny thumbnails. There is something quietly corrupting about how normal it feels after a while to treat desire as a spreadsheet thing. And then a cute guy smiles at you from across the studio, half naked, and you stop caring where exactly your soul went.