Caelus here is not the soft idiot from canon. The game basically asks, "What if the Trailblazer actually used all that cosmic bullshit to do the one thing everyone writes in fanfic but Hoyoverse pretends doesn’t exist?" and then never pulls back. Nanook is not some gloomy destruction god, he is straight up horny cosmic troll, like a drunk Archive of Our Own tag come to life. Plot is thin in a good way: every excuse to bend another Star Rail girl, and sometimes literally, into whatever shape your pervy little brain asked for the first time you saw her on a limited banner and thought “yeah I’d roll on that.”

What works weirdly well is how the game treats the whole “canon vs fanon” thing. Half the scenes feel like they were ripped straight from those long smut fics where the author clearly has a spreadsheet for everyone’s kinks. You know those 70k word monsters that start “slow burn” and then chapter 3 is already double penetration and mind control? Same energy here. One minute you are talking about Aeons and Paths, next minute Nanook just snaps reality and suddenly a proud Valkyrie type is on her knees giving this messy, noisy blowjob that would get a Twitch VOD nuked on sight. Then the scene pretends like nothing happened and jumps back to sci fi chatter. It feels wrong in a fun way. Or maybe in a stupid way. I liked it anyway.

The sex itself hits pretty much every checkbox people keep sneaking into tags: sloppy oral that really leans into the sounds, handjobs with way too much focus on fingers and precum, anal scenes where the camera insists on hanging on that first push a bit too long, and then stuff like footjobs that come out of nowhere. I mean it, you are casually abusing some broken mind controlled girl for exhibition in a public corridor, and suddenly she is using her feet like it is the most natural thing in the galaxy, with Nanook commenting in your head like a hentai Reddit thread. It is over the top and sometimes kind of dumb, but in a charming “this is clearly made by a guy who knows every Honkai subtag on Rule34.xxx” sort of way. The harem idea is full power, too. Caelus walks around like the universe itself is his brothel, and the girls, even when they resist at first, end up folded into this obedient, fucked-out collection entirely under his control. The mind control is not subtle. He rewrites them to love being toys, to show off outside with clothes barely hanging on, to beg him to use every hole in the worst moments, during missions, in front of cameras, whatever. And yet in the middle of all that excess, I got really annoyed that one small VFX on a cumshot looked like cheap soap. It bothered me the whole time and yeah, the game never fixes it.

What surprised me is how casually the game mixes sci fi nonsense and raw filth. You get “superpowers” here but not for saving worlds. Caelus uses cosmic energy to freeze time just to keep a girl’s mouth wrapped around his cock at the perfect angle, or to hold her asshole open while he decides if he wants to go back to her pussy or not. Sometimes reality bends so hard two girls exist in the same “moment” giving alternate versions of the same scene, one obedient, one still fighting, and you can flip your attention back and forth like changing tabs in Chrome. It sounds fancy, but in practice you are just clicking through dialogue while the game finds new ways to show spit, tears, ruined makeup and gaping. There is this one exhibition bit where a character is pretended to be fully in charge in front of a crowd, proper captain pose, and then in the next “layer” she is actually riding Caelus, forced to keep a perfect public speech while getting filled and emptied again and again. It is clever. Or maybe it is trash. Kind of both. Fantasy fans will notice half the lore is slightly off too. Some names are wrong, affiliations twisted, like the developer half remembered wiki pages and then said “eh, who cares, she is naked now.” Honestly, they were right.

If you ever read a “what if the Stellaron messed with their libido instead of destiny” fic and thought the author chickened out before the real filth, this is that same story but the brakes got removed, burned, and then fucked.

Keiichi feels like that dude who sits alone in the corner of a beach bar, pretending he’s “just enjoying the view” while his entire life is quietly catching fire. The game throws you right into his vacation, into this fake-relaxing tropical vibe where the air smells like sunscreen and cheap cocktails, and suddenly every girl you meet has a body that makes you forget what you were going to say. It looks like some light romantic thing at first, all smiles at the hotel café, sand stuck between toes, sun on brown skin, but it doesn’t stay soft. One moment you’re sharing iced coffee with a curvy Brazilian waitress, watching her ass sway when she leans over to clean a table, and the next she’s teasing you under the counter with her foot, pressing her soft sole against your crotch while she keeps talking like nothing’s happening. She laughs when you spill your drink, by the way. Total bully energy, and I kind of hated it and loved it.

The whole story is written like this messy diary he’s keeping on his phone, like when you open Google Docs at night and write stuff you’d never send to anyone. Some scenes are sweet in a painful way. You’re on the beach at sunset with this latina girl who pretends she just wants to talk about “future plans” and family drama, but the camera just sits way too long on her tits pushed up in that bikini, on tan thighs crossed in the sand. She puts her feet in your lap, wriggling her toes like it’s nothing, and casually asks if you’ve ever had your dick sucked on an empty shore. Cue choice screen: be a gentleman, or let her slowly slide down, her lips wrapping around you while waves crash in the background. You can pick if he’s loyal or just a horny idiot, but no matter what you choose, you still feel like a creep checking all the routes. There’s a party scene too, loud music, glow sticks, everyone half-drunk, her lipstick smeared as she pushes you into a dark corner near the pool and takes you in her mouth, choking and giggling, then asking if you’d still call her in the morning. You probably won’t.

The game keeps throwing women at you like you’re the last man on earth. Big tits bouncing in tight tops at the hotel café, big asses in tiny shorts walking ahead of you on the boardwalk, different skin tones, different attitudes. One is shy and romantic, blushing when your hand brushes her ankle, then later she’s the one giving you a slow, almost worshipful footjob on the bed, her painted toes gripping your shaft while she whispers that she wants to belong to you. Another girl flirts with your friends, flirts with everyone actually, and if you follow the wrong choices she heads off with some other guy, and the game just lets you sit in that sick netorare feeling, reading Keiichi’s jealous diary entry where he pretends it doesn’t bother him. Sometimes the choices feel fake, like they clearly want you to go for the full harem route, with all of them orbiting around your dick on this “vacation that changes everything”, but then there are these tiny moments where someone refuses you, or talks about old wounds, and suddenly your porn game turns into late-night emotional torture. Still, every time I told myself I’d stick to one wholesome romance, I ended up at another beach party, staring at bouncing tits in a wet bikini top, toes sliding along my shaft under the table, and clicking the most trash option available without even pretending to be a good guy.

Burned out barista flies to Rio thinking he’s going to “find himself” or some bullshit like that, and the game immediately throws him into the kind of vacation people only talk about when their main browser is on Pornhub and their incognito tab is full of brown skin, sandy beaches and sloppy oral. You’re this dude who spent way too long serving cappuccinos and listening to people complain about soy milk, and now you’re landing in Brazil with a cheap suitcase, a fried brain and exactly zero idea what you’re doing. Which is perfect, because the game pretty much weaponizes that clueless energy. One moment you’re half jetlagged, trying to figure out how to pay for a cab without looking like a complete idiot, next moment you’re standing in front of a beach bar, staring at a brazilian latina with legs for days, feet in sandals, laughing at you while she knows exactly how stupid you look. And yeah, she catches you staring at her toes. The game does this a lot: it lets you get horny in a really messy, human way, not like some clinical porn script. When she notices your eyes slide down, you actually get a choice. Look away and pretend you were checking the sand. Or keep looking and admit it. If you go for the second one, her smile changes a little, and you suddenly understand this trip is not about “rest”. It’s about how far you’ll actually go once no one from your boring cafe life is watching.

Stuff escalates slowly and then all at once. There’s the first beach party where everyone’s drunk on cheap caipirinha and outdated reggaeton hits, and you’re squeezed between sweaty bodies, lights, and this girl pressing her ass against you while her boyfriend is literally five meters away buying drinks. Or not her boyfriend. The game never makes it clean. It plays with that netorare edge in a way that feels more like a bad decision on a hot night than some hardcore fetish show. You get scenes where you’re sitting at a plastic table, sand under your feet, she slips off her flip flop and her toes slide over your crotch while she pretends to talk about “culture” and “Brazilian spirit”, and her guy is right there laughing at something on his phone. In one branch he catches on, in another he just stays blissfully dumb. Sometimes you feel like a piece of shit, sometimes you don’t care at all, and the script doesn’t try to clean it up for you. When she drags you to the water later and pushes you against the rocks to suck you off while the tide hits your legs, you remember that you were supposed to “reflect on your life choices” this year. Instead you’re getting wet sand on your ass and her mouth around your dick while she strokes you with the same foot that teased you earlier at the bar, making half-muffled jokes in portuguese you barely get. It’s romantic for two seconds, then filthy, then kind of romantic again. Like a party that smells like sunscreen, sweat and cheap perfume, and you only realize you lost your wallet when you’re already back in the hostel bed, still tasting her on your lips.

The game pretends to be about choices, and in a way it is, but it’s not that tidy “good route / bad route” stuff you see everywhere. You can chase a more tender vacation romance with one girl, share quiet moments with her on the beach at sunset, listen to her talk about trying to get out of the favela, kiss her slowly, feel her tongue slide into your mouth while she climbs on your lap, her bikini bottoms pushed aside so she can ride you carefully while waves crash in the background. Or you can screw that up completely by answering one question wrong and ending in some cramped back room of a noisy bar, where another woman drops to her knees so fast it feels almost transactional, letting you fuck her throat while her mascara smudges and her feet rub together along your shaft in a messy footjob that’s more desperation than affection. Sometimes it feels like you’re the tourist ruining people’s lives, other times you’re just a guy getting dragged along in someone else’s chaos. There is interracial stuff, yeah, and the game doesn’t treat it like porn category labels, just like reality: different tones of skin tangled together on sweaty sheets, breath in your ear, nails on your back, a leg over your shoulder while you go down on her until she pulls your hair because you’re too rough. It’s not “polished” at all. Some scenes feel rushed, some jumps between daytime coffee in a small cafe and night-time blowjob in a dark alley are jarring, and sometimes the tone flips so fast you wonder if two writers fought over the script in a Google Doc. But that messy vibe is exactly like a real bad decision vacation. You tell yourself you came here to rest. Then you wake up with sand in your shoes, bite marks on your chest, a girl’s phone number written on your arm in marker, and you’re already checking if she’s online while another woman sends you a message asking if you’re coming to the next party. The game never asks if you deserve any of it. It just lets you sink deeper.

There is something a bit fucked about walking into “your” apartment and your first real conversation is with a ghost that wants to blow you. Not in a fun, fluffy hentai way either. The game sets you up as this unlucky guy from the Devos bloodline, and the place already feels wrong before anything actually happens. Lights flicker, those cheap 3D shadows slide over the walls like they know your name, and then, boom, you look in the bathroom mirror and there’s a pale thing behind you that looks half depressed boy, half succubus. It smiles, and you’re thinking “ok, jumpscare?” but no. It kneels. That whole scene is animated with this weird slow hunger, and it’s honestly more uncomfortable than most horror movies on Netflix. In a good way, if you are into that mix of dread and dick worship.

The story pretends to be about solving a family curse, reading notes on your tablet, digging through old messages and voice memos your father left you, trying to understand who started all this paranormal shit. But the game keeps distracting you with horny ghosts and monster girls that do not respect personal space. You open a locked door with this simple puzzle and a ghost girl with empty eyes rushes up to you, sniffs your neck, then quietly asks if she can “taste living seed again.” That escalates fast into you pinned against the wall, her mouth deep on you, gagging and drooling, then suddenly she shifts on top and you are buried inside her while the UI is still pretending you’re investigating clues. At one point a femboi spirit in tattered underwear crawls out from under the bed, wraps your waist with this thin, shaky body, and just sinks down on you, riding in total silence while distant knocking sounds start in the hallway. Your MC is trying to ask “who cursed the Devos line?” while he is balls deep in a ghost that keeps tightening around him like it wants to drag his soul out through his cock. The game does not fade to black, it shows creampies in full detail, cum spilling from ghost holes that are not even supposed to be physically real. And then, after all that, the apartment goes quiet again, and you’re left scrolling through old diary pages on your phone, dripping, trying to pretend this is still about “mystery” and “romance” and not about how many times the dead can milk you before you finally understand why your whole bloodline is cursed.