Everyone tells you college will change your life. In this one it changes before you even unpack your damn suitcase. You’re this clueless freshman, half horny, half anxious, dragged into a house party hosted by Devin, the kind of guy who somehow knows everyone on campus by day two. The place is the usual student chaos: solo cups everywhere, some shitty playlist on loop, people grinding in the kitchen for no reason. And right in the middle of it, someone pulls out a bottle and suddenly the whole night turns into one long “how far will you go if everyone’s watching” test. Nothing hardcore at first, just little dares, stupid teasing, that slow, annoying build where you keep thinking “ok now someone is finally going to take something off” and then they chicken out. Or you accidentally click the “wuss” option because your finger slipped on the phone screen and now the whole room is laughing and you kind of deserve it.

The game feels like you’re poking around a messy Instagram story you can actually control. It’s point and click, yeah, but it’s more like reading horny chat logs that suddenly turn into choices you’re not ready for. You creep through rooms, find people alone on balconies, half-dressed in bathrooms, making out in dark corners, and you get that voyeur vibe going strong. Like that moment you walk in on two girls arguing over a dare and one of them is already topless, arms crossed over these huge tits that the artist clearly loved way too much, and you’re just standing there pretending you were totally looking for the fridge. The game lets you lean into that creeping, makes you peek around doors, hover your mouse where you shouldn’t, check a mirror to catch reflections of someone stripping in the other room. It’s a “no actual sex yet” kind of ride, but they push groping and grinding and clothes coming off so close to the edge that you’re basically begging the story to misbehave. There’s romance too, in that messy party way: you flirt with one girl, tease another, accidentally walk in on some interracial couple making out on the couch, and the game just shrugs like “you want to join or what.” And then suddenly it’s asking you to choose who you really want to impress, even though you kinda want them all, because harem brain hits fast when you’re a horny freshman with zero real-life experience and too many options.

What I like is how the text keeps clowning on you. You choose the “smooth” line and the narration throws shade like “wow, you really said that.” The humor is dumb, self-aware, a bit trashy, and the AI CG girls somehow look both cute and a little uncanny at the same time, which accidentally fits the whole awkward college vibe. Big asses in tight jeans, short skirts that are just waiting for some drunken exhibitionism dare, that one shy girl who turns into total chaos when someone suggests stripping for “equality,” and the way the game slowly corrupts your choices. At first you play nice, you’re empathetic, you worry if someone is uncomfortable. Later you’re clicking on options like “keep staring” and “touch her ‘by accident’” and pretending you’re still a good guy. You’re not. You’re the dude who learns the timing of the bottle spins to aim it at the girl you want to undress, the dude who checks the patio window just to catch someone grinding in the dark. It’s messy, horny, text heavy, more teasing than payoff, like one very long party that never quite ends in a bedroom, but you stay anyway because every new spin of the bottle might finally cross that line you want it to cross. Or maybe you just want to see who drops their clothes next. Same thing.

You open your eyes in a garden that’s way too pretty for how fucked up you feel. You remember dying… kind of. It’s fuzzy, like that morning after too much vodka when you’re checking your phone and praying you didn’t text your ex. Except now the “ex” is literally your life, and instead of hangover you get a smug angel, a smug demon, and a bunch of confused hot dead people who all like girls, guys, both, neither, or “it’s complicated” in different flavors. They tell you this isn’t Heaven, not Hell, just the Garden hanging out in Limbo, like some cosmic waiting room where everyone’s bisexual or worse. You’re told you can pick your body and gender, like character creation but with the weight of “what the fuck am I actually” behind it. Female, male, futa, trans, something in between, something off to the side. The game doesn’t blink. You can just… exist the way you wish you had when you were alive. That alone hit harder than some porn games ever will, honestly. Then five minutes later you’re flirting with a demon girl who looks like she can ruin your life and you’re fine with it.

What really sticks in my head is how one scene goes from tender to horny to sad so fast it feels wrong, in a good way. You’re sitting under this glowing tree with another lost soul, talking about what you regret from your life. They’re quietly telling you about the first time they realized they liked girls, how they kissed a friend behind a church, shaking and happy and terrified. The garden lights reflect in their eyes, they lean closer, and your choices appear. You can joke it away, you can pull them into this slow, nervous kiss, or you can go full thirsty and grab their hips and push them against the tree. If you go thirsty, the way the writing describes hands sliding over still unfamiliar bodies, the awkward “is this okay” mixed with raw need, feels more real than half the polished porn out there. It’s not just “and then boobs appeared, wow.” It’s messy, people hesitate, someone laughs at the wrong time, it reads like two queer disasters horny in Limbo who never got to be honest when they were alive, so now they’re making up for it in one go. There’s even a moment where they say “I never had sex like this when I was alive” and you can answer “me neither” or pretend you were a huge player. Which is funny, because the game will totally call you out later on that lie.

In between the horny stuff, you’re doing trials, talking to angels that act like burnt-out office workers, demons who act like they run a queer nightclub, and other dead people trying to figure out if Heaven is worth the rules, Hell is worth the chaos, or if Limbo is secretly the best place because nobody really knows what the fuck is happening anyway. Sometimes the tone whiplash gets tiring, like you’ll go from heartfelt talk about dysphoria to a gag about someone’s ass in two lines and it almost kills the mood. There are parts where the pacing drags, especially when a character dumps lore on you about how Eden ended up stuck here and you just wanna go back to worrying if that cute trans boy is into you or only into your “tragic backstory.” But then later, one small choice from an earlier date suddenly changes how a big late scene plays out and you realize oh, okay, it was paying attention the whole time. There are multiple routes and endings, you can flirt with women, men, futas, trans characters, some are soft, some are monsters in a sexy way, some are just emotionally unavailable but so hot you try anyway. It’s not afraid to be horny, but it also doesn’t treat sex like the only reward. Sometimes you get a tender cuddle in the afterlife instead of a full-on scene, and weirdly that feels more intimate. Still, I got annoyed that one character keeps mentioning some specific snack from when they were alive and you never actually see it anywhere. No CG, nothing. That bothered me a lot more than it should have. Anyway, it all feels like a queer afterlife dating mess where you can be a lesbian, a dude, a trans futa, whatever, and still end up kissing under a divine tree while arguing about whether Heaven even deserves you.

Guy just wants some cold air and maybe a drink, ends up trapped in the quietest, horniest little horror-comedy grocery store on earth. That’s the vibe here. You walk in, sun burning your brain, and suddenly the outside world just kind of... blinks out. The door locks, shelves feel slightly wrong, lights flicker like they’re trying to flirt, and there she is behind the counter: tiny goth clerk with a stare like she already knows exactly how weak you are. Not the cliché latex dominatrix thing, more like “sleep-deprived art major who could crush your soul with one sarcastic comment” mixed with “MILF energy in training,” if that makes sense. Big tits under a cheap t‑shirt, jeans, zero effort styling, but somehow she looks like a walking fetish ad that forgot to be subtle.

The weird part is, nothing technically “happens.” No actual sex, no naked bodies flying around, nobody jumping your dick. It’s all edging, all mind games, like the game is blueballing you on purpose and laughing. She’ll lean over the counter just a little too far, bend down to grab something so her ass lines up perfectly with your eyes, stretch like she’s in a yoga ad, then act like you’re the creep for looking. She calls you out for every tiny reaction, every stolen glance, like she’s reading your browser history in real time. At one point she casually drops a line about how “guys like you are easy to rewire” and the screen does this tiny flicker and yeah, you feel it. Not jump scare, more like you skipped a frame in your own head. You’re not sure if she’s hypnotic or just really good at gaslighting, but you start clicking through lines faster, waiting for some kind of payoff that never quite lands. It’s a kinetic novel, so no choices, no branches, you’re just strapped into her vibe. That’s kinda annoying and kinda perfect. You keep thinking “ok, next scene she’s gonna finally do something,” and instead she just mocks you, teases harder, leans in with that bored stare and explains exactly how she could make you crawl with a single word. Then nothing. Then a joke. Then she looks straight at you again and tells you you’re breathing too loud.

What got me is how the voyeurism hits without any peepholes or secret cams. You’re just there, stuck, watching her do normal clerk stuff while she very obviously watches you watching her. It flips around, like you become the thing on display. She wipes down the counter real slow, checks her phone, pops gum, types something you can’t see, then smiles in that “yeah, I just changed something in your brain” way. At one point she makes you read signs on the wall, stupid boring rules, but the text starts feeling like commands, like she’s training a dog. She never raises her voice, never goes full “kneel, worm” mode, but you still feel dominated, like your dick is on a leash you can’t see. The humor is messed up in a good way too; she’ll roast your porn tastes, call out your search terms, then switch to dead-serious for two lines and talk about control and consent like a late-night TED talk in a haunted 7‑Eleven, then immediately ask if you’re thirsty. Zero subtle transition. The art is rough but kinda perfect for it, she’s cute and a little off-model from scene to scene, which almost sells the idea your memory is being edited. There’s no big climax, no “and then you bang her” scene, it just leaves you horny, slightly confused, and lowkey worried she’s going to show up in your dreams and make you apologize for scrolling Twitter during the dialogue.