You start as this shiny holy boy, all blessed and important, marching in to kill the big bad succubus, and the game just immediately laughs in your face. Nox wipes the floor with you, steals your power, and suddenly the mighty chosen hero is more like a walking protein dispenser in a world full of horny monsters that all want a taste. The whole thing feels like you accidentally clicked the wrong link on your church’s website and ended up here. Every area you go through is basically a trap: monster girls that look like they belong on some sketchy Pixiv page, smug milfs with that “I’ve ruined better men than you” look, futa demons with way too much confidence, fluffy girls with tails that distract you at the exact moment they’re pinning you down. You think “ok, this time I’m going to focus on combat, grind some levels, be serious” and then three seconds later some big tit demon bends over in front of you and the game is like, “sure you are, champ.”

What I liked is how it keeps playing this joke on your ego. You’re supposed to be holy, but half the time you’re flat on your back, getting milked, pinned, ridden, or just used like some toy. You win a fight? The monster girl still teases you, strokes your cock with her foot, presses her huge ass against you and whispers about how much you must be holding back. You lose? They sit on your face, fuck you stupid, ride your dick until you shoot inside them and they moan about how “the church raises such obedient little cum donors.” There is a lot of view-from-your-own-eyes stuff, with thighs closing around your head, tits smooshing against you, and those moments where you’re staring up at a smug face while she grinds on your lap and you can feel yourself giving up both the fight and your stats. Creampies are not subtle either. You see it, you hear it, they talk about it. Some girls get off on stuffing you dry, rubbing your leaking cock on themselves, looking you in the eyes while you twitch and spill inside them again. Oral scenes flip around a lot: sometimes they worship you, sometimes they grab you by the hair and shove your face between their legs until you are basically just a tongue with a body attached. There are furry girls that act like they’re “just curious” and then five seconds later they’re riding you, tail wrapping around your leg while they moan in your ear. A few scenes really go hard on the feet stuff too, like this one where a demon queen keeps your hands bound and makes you cum only from her soles and toes, then laughs that a “holy hero” got trained by her feet. You can pretend you’re here for the RPG elements, the sandbox, the power climb, whatever. But then you’re peeking around a corner just to watch two monster girls play with each other, or letting a milf priestess “cleanse” you with her mouth while your stats mysteriously drop again, and you realize the real boss fight is just how long you can last before you give in on purpose.

The first time I logged into this thing, I didn’t even care about the classes or whatever plot it pretends to have - the way the avatars breathe, the tiny tremor in their lips before a kiss, that’s what got me. It’s like the devs poured all their soul into making skin look touchable. There’s this one girl in a half-armored cosplay outfit, silver hair glowing like some digital eclipse, and when she leans close, her breath fogs your screen. Maybe I imagined that, but hell, it felt real. The sci-fi cities behind her hum like they’re alive, something between a nightclub and a dream you shouldn’t be having. The game doesn’t shout about its mechanics, but when you figure out how to sync movement and body sensors, it’s almost too much - like your nerves are being rewritten to crave every vibration.

Sometimes the story pretends to be about mystery - a missing player, a corrupted zone - but nobody’s really fooling anyone. The real puzzle is how long you can last before giving in to pure heat. The VR immersion slips between sweet and filthy faster than your mind can keep up; one moment you’re chatting with a student NPC about history, next she’s on her knees, glasses sliding down, eyes wide like she’s learning anatomy for the first time. There’s group stuff too, awkward at first until it’s not. Someone mentioned modders replaced the background drones with moaning echoes; I laughed until it happened in my session and I swear it made everything feel more chaotic and alive. The music, though? Too clean. Needs something grittier, maybe a heartbeat instead of these sterile synths.

I still can’t get over the fact that clothing physics act like they’ve got personalities - skirts that refuse to stay where they should, latex that remembers your touch. You can taste the future here, but it’s messy and dripping and maybe a bit too honest. Every time I log out, reality feels thinner, like a veil that won’t settle right.

Freshly dumped into a new house with your mom, boxes still everywhere, the air feels kinda empty and horny at the same time. Your dad bailed, left the place to you two, and suddenly the woman who used to just be “mom” is walking around in tight shorts, bending over to unpack stuff, and you realize your eyes are not behaving like a good son at all. The game leans hard into that quiet, awkward energy. It’s not loud, not full of explosions or crazy drama, just this slow, teasing thing where every small moment can turn sexual if you push it. You click through dialogue, you watch her stretch on the couch, you “accidentally” walk in when she’s changing, and the story keeps asking you without saying it out loud: are you going to be a decent guy here, or are you going to be a sneaky bastard?

What I like is how the lewd stuff doesn’t jump on you right away. The build-up is actually kind of nice. You notice how she sits with her legs a bit open when she thinks nobody is looking, how her shirt rides up when she reaches for the top shelf, how that big ass of hers has become impossible to ignore. There’s this one scene where she’s washing dishes, back turned, water running, and the game lets you decide if your hand “accidentally” brushes against her butt while you squeeze past. If you choose the pervy path, you get slow escalation: lingering touches, your hand staying on her hip a bit too long, the way she gasps but doesn’t move away, that sort of thing. Voyeur stuff is here too, like sneaking outside her room at night, hearing soft sounds through the door, the option to peek and see her fingers between her thighs or her playing with a toy, whispering your name or pretending she doesn’t. It’s messed up, yeah, but that’s exactly the fantasy they’re selling, and they don’t pretend it’s something else.

Eventually it goes further, of course. More bold groping when she’s half asleep on the sofa, your fingers sliding under her shorts while a movie quietly plays in the background. Her pretending it’s an accident the first time, then later pressing back into your touch. There’s oral too, with her on her knees in that same kitchen where you were unpacking boxes earlier, her lips wrapped around your cock, tears at the corner of her eyes as she tries to take you deeper, all while she still calls you “my boy” out of habit, which makes it dirtier. The visual novel style means a lot of reading, a lot of choices, and you kinda live in this grey zone between “I’m helping mom with the divorce pain” and “I’m using her loneliness to get my dick wet.” No long tutorial, no complicated systems, just that slow burn of teasing, watching, touching, seeing how far you can push your own mother before she stops pretending it’s wrong. And yeah, she never really does.

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.