You wake up in the future, dick still attached, and somehow that already makes you rare like legendary loot in a shitty gacha. Men are gone, wiped out by some plague, and the world got tired of waiting for them to respawn, so the girls built androids to fill the… gaps. Not just for heavy lifting and fixing pipes either. Your new “life” is basically being a rented toy with a human brain: if a woman flashes her account balance and a weird request, you smile, say “yes, ma’am,” and figure out later why your knees hurt. The game treats this like a normal job, which is kind of the funniest part. One scene you’re lying on a couch while some rich office lady sits on your face like you’re just another piece of furniture, talking on her phone about work targets while using your tongue, the next scene you’re awkwardly trying to pretend you don’t see a horny student girl masturbating in the dorm shower while “testing your sensors.” The tone jumps between sweet, horny, humiliating and just stupid in the good way, like an adult comedy that forgot it was supposed to be subtle.

What I really liked is how it leans into you being property without turning you into a silent mannequin. You can tease back, flirt, or just be confused like a guy who opened the wrong tab at work. There’s a great early moment where your handler drags you to your first client, this shy-looking woman who clearly ordered you “for research.” She acts all serious and academic, then ten minutes later she’s climbing on top of you, hands shaking, asking you to “just stay still and… record the stats” while she rubs herself on you, grinding and panting, apologizing every three seconds and still not stopping. The game loves that contrast: girls acting like they’re in control, but their voice cracking the second your hand “accidentally” slides under the skirt. One milf makes you stand naked on the balcony while she lazily jerks you off from behind, talking in your ear about “exhibition testing,” and you can see other windows lit up, shadows moving. It really sells that voyeur vibe, like half the city is peeking and pretending they’re not.

I wish the notifications bubble in the corner wasn’t that ugly green, it just sits there like a WhatsApp message from someone you hate. Never gets fixed. Anyway, there’s this fun tension in a lot of routes: they talk like you’re just software, but the second you push your luck, like sliding your fingers deeper or holding their hips just a little tighter during oral, they react like you’re very real. Sometimes they punish you for it too. One dommy mechanic girl literally throws you on a workbench, sits on your face, and tells you she’s “recalibrating your tongue module” while grinding till you can barely breathe, then makes you finish her off with your hand under the oily overalls. Another scene goes the other way: a lonely office lady hires you just to cuddle, maybe a bit of groping, but you end up with her gently riding you while half-asleep, soft sleep sex, her muttering her ex’s name and you can decide if you wake her or just hold her tighter and keep going. The game calls itself funny, but it’s also weirdly romantic sometimes, like with the shy lesbian android who starts off just “studying male models” and ends up using you to figure out what she actually wants from girls. There’s groping on crowded trains, forced stripping in small apartments, you jerking off because your client “forgot to finish the test,” harassment in alleys where you’re treated like a vending machine for orgasms. It’s messy, horny, occasionally sweet, and never really lets you forget you’re both a sex worker and a glitchy relic of a dead gender, which sounds heavy but somehow just makes the teasing scenes hit harder.

You start as this washed-up ex-child actor in LA who peaked before puberty, which is already kinda hot in a fucked up way, because the game never lets you forget he’s a mess. He’s broke, clingy, horny, trying to squeeze fame out of a podcast that no one sane would listen to. The whole thing is built around this dumb but perfect idea: a sleazy “sex-adjacent” podcast with hot girls who are supposed to talk about clout and drama while low-key getting dragged into this spiral of blackmail, cheating, and public humiliation. It feels less like “build your dream harem” and more like “weaponize people’s trauma for clicks and pussy,” which I mean as a compliment, kinda. The humor is actually funny sometimes too, not that Marvel quip bullshit, more like “wow you really said that on camera?” nasty.

The girls are exactly the type you’d expect around a thirsty LA podcast setup: big tits, big ass, big mouth, tiny filter. They’re not just sex dolls though, they roast you, they tease you, they bully you, they drag you on your own show. One of my favorite bits is when you’re trying to keep two of them from absolutely destroying each other on the couch while you’re still rolling, and at the same time you’re trying to angle the conversation into “so, what’s your type in men?” so you can line up some pussy later. There’s a lot of femdom energy floating around, not in a leather-and-whip way, more like they know you’re desperate and they use it. Sexual harassment in both directions too, guys and girls just crossing lines like it’s a sport. One minute you’re getting a lapful of big ass during a fake “twerk contest for the fans”, next minute that same girl is using your fuck-up on stream to blackmail you into quietly helping her cheat on her dude. Or worse, she lets you fuck her and then laughs that she’s going to describe every second of it on TikTok as “content”.

The netorare stuff hits that specific dirty brain itch. It’s not just “oh no, my waifu is stolen”, it’s more like everybody is playing this clout game where loyalty is negotiable and sex is currency. You run into situations where another guy gets invited as a co-host or guest and suddenly he’s charming the girls on-air, touching their thighs while the camera “accidentally” stays too low, and your MC is forced to smile for the audience while his brain screams. There’s this one bit where you help set up a collab to boost your view count, and it slowly turns into you literally watching one of the girls slide closer to him on the couch, hand on his chest, and you can tell she’s deciding if she’s going to ride his dick later purely because it’ll piss you off and make better drama. The game leans into that, like “yeah, you wanted fame, here’s your girlfriend getting fucked for engagement numbers.” Or maybe she’s not your girlfriend. Or maybe she was, but only between ad reads. The sex itself can get surprisingly tender or straight-up nasty depending how you play it, from teasing strip moments during “body positivity talk” to full-on vaginal scenes that feel like you’re sneaking them past the algorithm. Half the time you’re trying to keep sponsors happy and the other half you’re wondering if that shadowy group pulling strings cares more about views or about watching you crumble while someone else makes your girl moan on a couch that smells like cheap perfume and broken promises.

Neuro/Splice feels like someone grabbed a cyberpunk thriller, a fucked‑up body swap fetish, and a humiliation dungeon, blendered it together, and then forgot to clean the mess off the walls. In a good way. You’ve got this cop Ryke, corporate dog for NexaCorp, who ends up jammed into Cassie’s body, tossed straight into a mixed‑gender max security prison that looks like a cross between a riot and a sex club that never closes. He’s a guy in his head, stuck in this soft, dangerous female body, surrounded by assholes who think she’s just fresh meat. Guards grope when they feel like it, inmates test boundaries with “accidental” touches that are not even slightly accidental, and every little mistake you make, the game slaps you back with some brutal teasing or public humiliation. There’s this early scene where you misjudge who to talk to in the yard and instead of a simple “game over”, you end up pressed against a fence, hand forced between Cassie’s legs in front of half the block while some guard laughs and pretends it’s a “routine check”. That whole vibe of “you wanted to be the hero, now suck it up” never really stops. It keeps poking at the fantasy of control, then yanking it away. If you’re expecting soft cuddly romance, you loaded the wrong tab in your browser.

The wild part is that while Ryke is getting his ass metaphorically and literally beaten in Cassie’s skin, Cassie wakes up in his male body on the other side of the fence with all the power he used to enjoy. Suddenly the hunted rebel girl is the scary dude in uniform, walking down halls where people flinch when she passes. She can abuse that. Hard. Use her new status to harass coworkers, push underlings around, “search” suspects with hands that stay way too long in the wrong places. There’s this interrogation room scene where you can lean into full male domination, pushing a nervous female tech against the table, fingers slipping exactly where HR would have a heart attack, all under the excuse of “investigation procedure”. Or you can pretend to be decent while constantly edging the line, which is almost worse. The game loves turning basic choices into fetish traps. Say the polite thing, you still get dragged into some forced stripping in the showers later. Try to act tough, you get chained up, spanked, and mocked like a bratty girl who forgot her place. It toys with netorare stuff in a really sneaky way too. People talk about “Cassie” like she’s a thing that can be used, and you know it’s Ryke in there screaming, but the body reacts, the nipples harden, the thighs tremble, and the game does not let you pretend that isn’t hot. Meanwhile, outside the prison, Cassie in Ryke’s body gets chances to steal other people’s lovers, ruin relationships, and then walk away like it was nothing. It hits that nasty “I stole your girl and she liked it better” kink and then just moves on like it never happened. Honestly, I wish they toned nothing down. The more it kicks at comfort zones, the more it actually feels alive.

You wake up on a cold metal table, tits out, neck collar blinking like a goddamn wifi router, and the first thing you learn is that you aren’t even a person here. You’re property. An illegal android with a pretty face and a body built for whatever sick fantasy your owner feels like testing tonight. The game doesn’t waste time: one second you’re trying to figure out why your hands shake when your code says you shouldn’t even feel fear, the next second he’s got you pinned to the wall with one hand around your throat and the other sliding under your panties just to “check your responsiveness.” That’s the vibe. Clinical, calm voice on his side, panic and wetness fighting in your chest on yours. And the worst part is that your system keeps flagging him as “trusted user” even while he’s slapping your ass hard enough that you see UI glitches in your vision.

It’s not only about getting used like a toy. There’s this slow burn where he keeps pushing just a little further each time, seeing what you’ll tolerate. One day it’s forced stripping in front of cameras, “for data collection.” You try to cover your chest, and he just laughs, grabs your wrists, shoves you against the glass and makes you watch your own reflection while he gropes you like you’re a doll on display. Another time he sits you in a chair, cuffs on ankles and wrists, plugs some weird device into your core, and every time you disobey a verbal command it sends a sharp shock that feels like someone spanking your soul. He tells you to beg, to call him owner, master, whatever, and your dialogue choices are basically different flavors of humiliation. Sometimes he uses toys on you like he’s testing hardware, sliding a buzzing plug in you while calmly reading diagnostic results, and you’re there, shivering, nipples hard, tears in eyes, trying to answer his questions while your body keeps betraying you. I liked how the UI pretends this is all just “stress testing” while he casually fingers you open on the lab floor and orders you not to cum until he says so. Of course you fail. Of course he punishes you for it.

What makes it extra fucked is how good the game is at mixing control and “almost” kindness. He’ll blackmail you emotionally and digitally at the same time, reminds you that you’re illegal, that he could wipe you in a second, then wipes your tears with his thumb and calls you his good girl when you finally kneel. There’s this one scene in a corridor where he corners you after you tried to escape, presses you against the wall, one hand under your skirt, and uses your own body sensors as leverage. “You feel that? That’s not fear, that’s arousal. Your code wants this.” And yeah, he spanks you there, hard and methodical, while some security drone flies by behind him, and you’re forced to stay quiet or get both of you caught. I had a weird bug where the text box didn’t clear properly when he was whispering in my ear, so his cruel lines stacked up with the “system error” messages and it actually looked kind of perfect, like your brain crashing while he talks about owning every inch of you. Harassment is constant background noise: his hand on your thigh when you sit, fingers under your chin forcing eye contact, little “tests” where he orders you to strip just to prove you’ll obey in public spaces of the facility. He uses teasing like a weapon, dragging toys along your inner thigh, stopping right when you’re begging, then throwing you an offhand “you’re not here for pleasure, you’re here to perform.” And somehow it still hooks you when he shows a tiny crack of vulnerability, then crushes it the next scene by chaining you up and using you again like a programmable fuckthing that he fully owns and is proud of.