Denji’s trapped again, but this time it’s not about blood or blades. It’s a damn maze of moans and bad decisions. The walls hum like they’re watching, the air sticky with that half-sinful, half-desperate energy only Chainsaw Man chaos could pull off. Kobeni trembles like always - except now she’s trembling for different reasons. You can almost taste her panic when your hand slides under her shirt, that mix of fear and wanting that shouldn’t feel this hot but somehow does. Himeno’s smirk cuts through the tension like a knife dipped in smoke; she knows exactly what you’re thinking before you even move. She plays dirty, whispering things that make you forget which way is out, makes you think maybe getting lost forever wouldn’t be so bad.

The game doesn’t rush. It teases. One second you’re grinding through dialogue choices that seem stupidly simple, and then suddenly it hits you - this isn’t about saving anyone, it’s about corrupting them just enough to see who breaks first. Internal view scenes hit hard, no filter, no mercy. The sound design’s nasty in a good way - sticky breaths, little gasps, wet slaps echoing through the infinite corridor like applause. There’s humor too, weirdly enough. Power barges in at the worst possible moment, yells something ridiculous, and you still can’t help but laugh even as the screen flashes another throbbing close-up. It’s gross and sexy and kinda tragic all at once.

And yeah, the endings. Plural. You’ll probably screw up the first one, because some options look harmless until you realize they change everything. There’s a scene where Denji just stares at his own hands, covered in… well, you know, and it lingers longer than comfortable. That’s the thing - nothing here feels safe, even the pleasure. It’s messy, horny, strangely tender in places where it shouldn’t be. Like the game itself is laughing at you for getting turned on by its cruelty. And maybe it’s right.

Corruption is not just a bar on the screen here, it feels like a mood that slowly crawls under your skin while you click “next room” again like a degenerate. Forbidden Dungeon throws you into a fantasy world that pretends to care about saving kingdoms and slaying monsters, but everyone knows why you’re actually there. You start with these “heroes” who look serious for about five seconds, then the game starts stripping them, shoving them into traps with tentacles and cursed toys, and suddenly every combat choice is also a sex choice. You’re staring at a turn-based fight, thinking about buffs and debuffs, but also thinking “ok if she loses here, how badly is the dungeon going to fuck her this time?” Then you lose on purpose. Or you tell yourself it was a mistake. Sure.

What I like is how the dungeon feels hungry. Rooms are not just “fight skeletons, get loot”. You open a door, get a weird altar with a glowing toy on it, and you have that awful nice feeling like when you know you shouldn’t click “accept” but you do anyway. Take the blessing, your stats go up, your “purity” goes down, next encounter she is more sensitive, more aroused in the art, more easy to push over the edge. At start I was trying to play “correct” like it is some hardcore roguelike. After a few runs I was basically feeding my party to every corrupted slime just to unlock new scenes. There is that one event with the breeding pit where you think “ok, this is just some background lore thing”, then suddenly your character is on all fours, tentacles holding them open, multiple penetration from things that do not even have a name, and you are sitting there like, yeah, this is fine. Also the little text line that casually mentions the chance of pregnancy like it’s just another status effect, that got me. It is not like a soft romance thing, it feels more like the dungeon is marking them, making sure they stay its toys forever.

The parody bits are funny in a really trashy way. If you know those edgy solo-leveling memes or you played Darkest Dungeon, you will recognize some scenes twisted into horny nonsense. A “heroic” speech turns into a submissive pledge to serve the dungeon, that kind of thing. It keeps trying to pretend there is a noble path, but the more you progress, the more the skills, gear and even the AI-generated CG push you toward naked, chained, displayed in front of monsters. Exhibition stuff hits hard here because the game keeps throwing you into situations where the character should be ashamed, and the UI pops up like “Gain +10% damage if you let them watch.” Grind a bit, unlock another protagonist, and suddenly the same corridors feel different because you know exactly which trap will drag them into that familiar tentacle nest. I really wish the game let me corrupt the town hub more, like turn the whole support cast into willing dungeon slaves or something, but I guess that’s my brain asking for DLC already. Anyway, if you like your runs to end with your party fully broken in some dark corner of the map, soaked, pregnant, and still going back in because loot, then yeah, this dungeon knows exactly what kind of player you are.

It’s messy in the best way. You’re some kind of half-drunk alchemist in a vampire’s den, tossing glowing ingredients into a cauldron that looks suspiciously alive, waiting to see if it spits out gold, slime, or a moaning succubus with tits like forbidden fruit. The game doesn’t explain much, just lets you mix weird shit - holy water, demon ichor, maybe a drop of your own sweat - and then bam, the screen flashes and suddenly you’re staring at a futa nun grinding against a bound werewolf priest. It’s ridiculous, but you can’t stop clicking. The logic makes no sense and that’s kind of the point. Sometimes you get a soft scene, a slow kiss between a vampire girl and her human pet. Other times, tentacles, everywhere, like the game’s trying to outdo itself in how far it’ll go before you blush or laugh.

There’s something about the tone - half gothic, half horny fever dream - that makes it feel like the devs were just daring each other to see what the next transmutation would unlock. The art shifts between elegant and unhinged; one moment you’re admiring the lighting on a pale thigh, next you’re staring at a corrupted angel with too many wings and not enough shame. The alchemy system feels more like foreplay than crafting. You think you’re mixing for power, but really you’re just chasing the next perverse reveal. I tried to keep track of the endings but gave up after the third one involved a talking dildo that might’ve been sentient.

The weirdest part? It’s kind of beautiful. Between the absurd fetishes and over-the-top transformations, there’s this pulse of dark humor and lust that keeps it alive. It’s not about winning or finishing - it’s about curiosity, that itch that says “what if I mix blood and holy oil again?” Do it. The game rewards the reckless.

Yuu looks like one of those quiet types you’d never notice in a crowd, but that’s the trick, isn’t it? The game doesn’t start with fireworks or any fancy menu music - it just drops you right into his head. You can almost feel how tense he is around Misaki, his little sister who’s too innocent for the filth swirling around her. It’s that kind of story where every click feels heavier than it should, because one wrong choice and things slide from tender to completely fucked-up. And they do. You think you’re protecting her, then suddenly the camera lingers too long, she’s asleep, breathing soft, and your cursor hesitates. It’s not subtle about temptation. The voyeurism here is dirty in a way that makes you feel complicit, like you’re peeking through a crack in a door you shouldn’t have opened.

The animation hits that weirdly realistic zone - not uncanny, just raw enough to make the moans stick in your ears. There’s this one scene where Yuu’s hand trembles before touching her thigh, and the sound design makes it worse, or better, depending on what you came for. When the blackmail angle kicks in, everything starts looping back: guilt, lust, anger, repeat. Some endings hit harder than expected - one actually made me shut my phone for a minute. Then I went back anyway. The multiple paths don’t feel like “good” or “bad” endings, more like different shades of corruption. You’ll probably hate yourself a bit, which is exactly why it works.

Weird thing - the romance thread actually lands emotionally once or twice, like when Misaki whispers his name during the sleep scene, half-awake, half-aware. It’s messed up and strangely intimate. You won’t find polished heroes or tidy morals here, just a slow descent wrapped in warm skin and bad decisions. Dare to play it alone, or invite company?