Guy stuck in some shitty future office job, numbing himself with Spotify and porn on second monitor, then boom, random email: “hey, you own an entire tropical archipelago now.” I mean sure, obvious scam, but in this story it’s actually real, and he just goes. No hesitation, no lawyer, just “ok, I’m a rich island master now, cool.” I kinda love how fast it throws you into the fantasy. One minute you’re surrounded by concrete and neon, next minute you land on this ridiculous paradise full of wet sand, wet skin, wet everything, and this insanely classy woman meets you at the dock, calls you “Master” with that calm, trained smile that already screams “I know exactly how to make you break all your morals.” She’s hot in that hentai office-lady way, big tits pressed into a too-tight outfit, acting all professional while clearly ready to bend the rules and probably her spine.

The structure is visual novel style, but it sneaks in management stuff so you’re not just clicking next text like a zombie. You’re technically running this island group, investing money, deciding what buildings to put, who works where. And every “responsible” choice somehow leads to more perversion. Upgrade a facility? Suddenly there’s a scene where your staff are “celebrating” in your private villa with their clothes on the floor and their legs open. Got a research lab? They’re not studying fish, they’re testing this creepy futuristic machine that can mess with memories and lust. I swear the first time I used it on that shy girl who kept blushing and covering her chest, I was like “ok this is fucked up” and then five clicks later I’m watching her grind on a metal frame, moaning your name, eyes glazed, while the machine slowly strips away her resistance. The game really leans into corruption, like not just “she likes sex now,” but watching her go from normal worker to addicted slut who peeks at camera feeds and fingers herself while spying on other couples.

Sex scenes don’t stay one-on-one for long. The moment the island economy starts running, you basically become this horny overlord scheduling meetings that end in group sex. There’s this one beach party where you pretend it’s some celebration of progress, but really it’s just an excuse to watch them drunk on sun and lust, bodies all over the sand, a messy mix of big asses bouncing, big boobs slapping, two girls sharing your cock while a third rides your face. Sometimes there’s a monster angle too, like the tech or weird creatures from the ocean getting involved, tentacle-ish stuff that feels half sci fi, half wet dream, and the girls go from fear to obsession so fast it’s almost funny. Also, the voyeur angle is strong as hell. You unlock hidden cameras in showers, staff rooms, even the lab. One time I opened the cam menu on my phone on the subway and forgot volume, and suddenly this girl is on screen getting railed against a glass wall, moaning so hard people looked at me. I pretended it was TikTok but yeah, no one believed that. Anyway, the romance part is there if you want to pretend you care, you can pick favorites, take them on “dates” under the palm trees, tell them sweet things, then order them to kneel in the sand and swallow everything like good pets. The game lets you be as soft or as much of a manipulative bastard as you want, but it always comes back to the same thing: you’re the master of this sunny little sex factory, and every pretty thing on that island is one decision away from being on her knees or on a machine, moaning your name like it’s the only word she remembers.

Lena’s voice keeps ringing in my head even after I closed the tab - like an echo that’s not really hers, but mine. She’s drawn to disaster, that much is clear. I kept thinking she’d make a “good” choice, but the game doesn’t reward good. It teases it, then smothers it under sweat and half-whispered apologies. That scene in the cheap motel room (yeah, the one with the red sheets that keep sliding down her thighs) hit weirdly hard. I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t. Ian’s dialogue there, when he asks if she *feels anything at all* - it’s not written like porn, it’s more like he’s daring her to stop pretending. And then you realize the game’s been daring *you* the same way for the last hour.

There’s a rhythm to the choices, like breathing too fast and then stopping. One moment you’re talking about dreams and gigs and paying rent; next, you’ve got Lena on her knees, warm breath fogging up the screen. The blowjob animation isn’t even the point - it’s how she looks up after, like she’s trying to find meaning in it. I swear that little pause before she wipes her mouth says more about her than any of the branching dialogue trees. But still, there’s something sloppy about the transitions - like it’s all too aware of what it’s supposed to turn you on with. I got annoyed once because the text box covered her chest at the exact wrong time. Then I forgot I was annoyed when she bit her lip and said his name wrong on purpose. Some games talk about corruption; this one feels sticky with it, uncomfortable in a way that makes you stay longer than planned.

By the time the threesome scene rolled around - Lena, the redhead, and Ian with that smug smirk - I’d stopped trying to make moral choices. You just click and watch the mess unfold. It’s romantic and ugly and kind of beautiful in its own broken rhythm. Like you shouldn’t be watching, but you keep doing it anyway because there’s something too human about all that skin and guilt tangled together.

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.

Homeboy comes back from his “year abroad” like he just discovered culture, and walks into a house that feels the same but somehow way dirtier. Not the furniture, the vibes. Mom’s still stacked like a hentai thumbnail, stepdad’s still pretending to be the wholesome nice guy, and the two sisters are… yeah, not how he left them. The game drops you right in the middle of this horny little pressure cooker where everyone’s pretending nothing weird is going on while literally everything is weird. You’re the son, you’re broke, trying to find a job, and instead of working on your CV you’re out here watching your own family like a degenerate peeking from behind the curtains. One second you’re in the kitchen talking about “future plans” and next second you’re getting flashbacks of how your mom’s shirt always rides up when she reaches for the top shelf and your brain just turns into Pornhub recommendations.

The game loves to play that slow, rotten corruption thing. At first it’s just small shit. You walk into the living room at the wrong moment and your older sister’s skirt “accidentally” rides up while she’s watching some Netflix clone on her laptop. Younger sister’s glued to her phone, doing that fake innocent student routine, but when you pass her door at night there’s that soft wet sound and a choked breath and your dumb ass just stands there, listening, hand already on your dick before you even realize it. The voyeur stuff hits hard: crack of the door, bathroom mirror fogged, mom bent over the sink in a towel that’s one bad knot away from dropping, and you’re there, hiding, blood pumping way too loud in your ears. Sometimes you catch stepdad grabbing her ass in the kitchen, his hand way too low, her pretending to push him away while still pressing back into him. You start noticing he stays out late more, and when he’s home, he’s rougher, like some switch flipped. There’s that one scene where you see him arguing with mom, his voice raised, and then it cuts to him dragging her to the bedroom. You don’t see everything at first, just hear the bed banging and her moans sounding a little too close to crying, and the game just leaves you with that messed up mix of jealousy, anger, and straight up arousal.

Then the cheating and interracial stuff starts dripping in, not subtle at all. Mom “goes out with a friend” and suddenly she’s in the back of some dude’s car, face buried in his lap, her big tits bouncing while she chokes a little on his cock and pretends she still has morals. Your older sister sneaks out to “study” and ends up riding some huge black guy like he’s the final boss of her degree, and later you accidentally see the video on her phone when she goes to shower. The game lets you decide if you just watch, confront, or quietly use that shit later while you jerk off alone in your room. That’s the thing: masturbation scenes are everywhere, like the house itself is horny and leaking. You catch mom with her fingers buried deep between her thighs after a fight with stepdad, see your younger sister grinding on her pillow, see your own reflection in the monitor light while you stroke it to some CG scene of the same women you just had breakfast with. Sometimes there’s a tiny romance beat, like mom looking at you too long, hand resting on your shoulder a little too soft, or your sister cuddling up to you on the couch while pretending to be scared of some movie. Next day she’s snapping at you again like nothing happened and you’re left half hard and confused. Anal, oral, groping in tight spaces, sneaky handjobs under tables, the game just stacks all the family-relationship shit until you’re not sure if this is still a “nice son returns home” story or a full-blown degeneration arc. And it somehow feels even worse when the sex gets tender for a second, like when mom kisses you slow, like a real lover, after you’ve already done the nastiest things together. You sit there, pants around your ankles, feeling like the most fucked up romantic idiot on the internet, and then you click “next scene” anyway.