It’s ridiculous, really - Fry crash-lands among yellow people and the first thing I notice is how the lighting in Moe’s bar makes everyone look like melted butter. That’s not a complaint, by the way, it’s kinda hot. The game starts off pretending to care about Fry’s “mission” or whatever, but everyone knows it’s about catching those awkward glances through half-open doors. You know that guilty thrill when you’re watching something you shouldn’t but can’t stop anyway? That’s the whole mood. I spent too long peeking at Marge cleaning up with that slow, bored face, and boom - there’s a toy lying around that definitely isn’t for cleaning. Then Homer walks in and I swear he stares at it like it owes him money. Anyway. The humor is nasty in a way I didn’t expect: cheap but confident, like it *knows* you’re gonna laugh right before doing something pervy.

It tricks you with “rpg” talk but it’s less about grinding stats and more about grinding, well, you know. One second I’m fiddling with an inventory full of… creative gadgets, next I’m accidentally triggering a voyeur sequence with Shauna and it’s both funny and embarrassingly detailed. The sort of scene you’d alt-tab from if anyone walked by, but also the one you’d think about while pretending to scroll Instagram later. What gets me is how Fry reacts; he’s equal parts idiot and horny philosopher, muttering about destiny while fumbling with something that buzzes. It’s peak absurdity, but somehow it fits this crossover chaos between Futurama and Springfield.

I keep telling myself the “writing” is what I like - the dumb jokes about quantum teleportation and Meg Griffin’s cameo that somehow spirals into a weird morality lesson (don’t ask what kind) - but nah, I’m lying to myself. It’s messy, dumb, sometimes too self-aware, but I don’t stop playing. The sandbox setup means half the fun is doing things out of order just to watch characters react like they remember last night’s mistakes. Sometimes they even mention you. That’s the part that kinda freaked me out. Maybe that’s the point: voyeurism isn’t about watching - it’s about getting caught.

This one throws you into Springfield in a really weird way. You’re not Homer or Bart, you’re some random young guy who suddenly finds out he’s related to Mr. Burns, like the one sperm he forgot to freeze properly or something, and now old, wrinkly, pissed-off Burns is kind of broke. Not broken in spirit, just broke in money. So he drags you into his mess and calls it an “internship”. Of course you don’t get paid, except in tits, asses and trouble. The whole thing plays like a point and click sandbox, and Springfield becomes your horny playground. You walk around town, poke at stuff, click on hot spots, talk to people, unlock scenes. In practice that means you are “helping” save the empire by doing every dirty favor possible, and a lot of them involve his favorite yellow MILF with gravity-proof boobs.

Marge is the real center of all this, even when she’s pretending she’s not. The game treats her like a holy relic of big tits and big ass. She’s not just background mom, she’s the main reward for being a good little intern. The way the story sets it up is kind of fun: you end up in the Simpsons house a lot, pretending you’re handling some “business stuff” for Burns, but you’re mostly staring at her huge boobs while she bends over with that big blue hair wobbling a bit. Sometimes she wears that usual green dress, sometimes something more tight, and yeah, there are scenes where you push her way out of that “faithful wife” role. What I liked is that the game doesn’t rush it too fast in the beginning. You run lame errands, click through dialog, test different time slots, and then suddenly one small choice opens this totally lewd situation in the kitchen or living room where she’s blushing and you’re trying not to stare at her nipples poking through. And failing. The humor hits nice too, kind of dumb but on purpose. Burns talking about “asset management” while the camera basically stares at Marge’s ass in the same room feels very on-brand for this parody. I kept catching myself clicking every stupid painting on the wall like a raccoon, because sometimes there’s an extra porn mag or a dirty joke hidden there that has nothing to do with progress, but it makes the world feel more dirty and alive.

Then you have Lisa in the mix, and the tone swings to something more sneaky and taboo. She’s not just there as background; she actually pokes her nose into your “intern” work. There are moments where she’s suspicious, and you’re juggling conversations, pretending you care about homework or environmental shit, while your real goal is to keep her from catching what you do with her mom. At the same time, the game gives her own corrupt path, so if you go that route it gets pretty fucking spicy. There’s something twisted about helping her with some project and realizing half the choices you make are slowly making her more open to weird, adult stuff. It’s uncomfortable in a way that clearly knows it’s wrong, but that’s also the fetish for a lot of people who are here, so the game doesn’t shy away from it. I actually got stuck once because I forgot which day she was in which location and I had to check some random fan-made schedule someone posted on Reddit from their Google Drive screenshots. That’s the kind of nonsense only sandbox lovers tolerate. If you want every dirty scene, you’ll need a little patience: talk to Marge in different rooms, annoy Lisa with multiple dialog options, help Burns with his degenerate “business plans”, and don’t be scared to re-check old locations after plot jumps. Half of the hottest stuff triggered for me only when I came back at a “wrong” time and clicked the same door I ignored before. There’s this nice feeling when you finally unlock a new Marge pose or a new Lisa reaction and you know it came from you messing around instead of following some boring arrow. If you play it slowly, save often, and actually enjoy being a nosy asshole in every room of the house, the game really rewards you with more than just one quick cum scene. Take your time in Springfield, watch every little body language change, and squeeze every filthy drop the writers buried in those yellow curves.