You check in at this weird, fucked up hotel thinking it’s just another quick jerk break between Discord messages and a half-finished ranked match in Valorant, and then it hits you: everyone here is hot, half-creepy, half-adorable, and technically dead. Not rotting dead, more like “came out of a lab, upgraded with big tits and attitude” dead. They call it relaxation, but it’s basically a cum economy. Your load is the wallet. Every handjob, every messy blowjob, every time you pump some zombie babe’s pussy, the counter goes up and more doors unlock. It sounds dumb when you explain it, but suddenly you’re actually thinking shit like “ok, I need 6 more loads to reach that room with the smug goth girl that looks like Wednesday had a way dirtier phase.”

What sinks the hook in is how familiar a lot of the girls feel, without the game screaming it in your face. One moment there’s a clumsy, brainy girl in an orange sweater who drops to her knees faster than my Wi‑Fi when I open Twitch, and the next you’re staring at a green-haired psychic that basically radiates “I could throw you through the wall, but I’d rather pin you to the bed and milk you dry.” A blonde in blue spandex leaning on the balcony rail like she owns the place, a tomboy with short hair and headphones who’s way too into teasing slow strokes with her hand, a shy chick with glasses who deepthroats like she’s trying to study your DNA. The game doesn’t pretend to be subtle. It just throws familiar faces at you, puts a price on them, and says: pay in cum.

The loop is stupid simple, which honestly works when you’re half-awake after scrolling porn on Xvideos and going “ok, one more thing before sleep.” New day, new girl at the hotel desk or waiting in some shady corridor, each with their own number slapped on like a cheap mobile game microtransaction. Only here, you’re grinding with your dick. Do a few rounds with an early girl, blow your load, watch the counter climb. Hit that goal, suddenly a door you kept clicking before finally opens and there’s a smug zombie redhead licking her lips, asking for “payment.” Sometimes you just sit there staring at the screen because the animation hits that perfect angle and you forget you were supposed to stop after one nut and go back to Netflix. Controls aren’t special, some things repeat a bit too much, and the sound can be slightly off, but then a girl looks up at you mid-blowjob with those big, glossy, undead eyes and you’re like, yeah, ok, fine, one more round.

I didn’t expect to laugh this much during what’s basically a porn game about rebuilding civilization with your dick, but here we are. “Dickcare” doesn’t even pretend to have subtlety, which somehow makes it better. It’s like the dev looked at every crossover hentai fantasy - Velma squinting behind foggy glasses, Raven pretending she’s not into it, Tatsumaki rolling her eyes while secretly moaning - and said, yeah, let’s just throw them all in one ruined world and call it salvation. The writing’s half self-aware and half deranged sincerity; the voice lines swing between awkwardly horny and genuinely funny. There’s one scene with Frankie in a busted gym locker room that made me pause, not because it was hot (though it is), but because she calls you “hero” in this weird soft tone right before things get messy. It stays in your head longer than expected.

What’s wild is how much *sound* adds to everything. You can tell someone cared about the way a zipper slides down or the slap echoing off concrete walls. The sandbox part? Looser than it sounds. You wander, talk, get distracted by some zombie side plot that doesn’t matter, and suddenly Velma’s stuck halfway through a ventilation shaft. It’s ridiculous, yeah, but also... kind of perfect. There’s no grind, no fake moral choice. Just dirty, absurd freedom. Though, I swear one moaning loop cuts off too early - it’s such a small glitch but now I obsess over it. Maybe that’s the point: perfection would ruin the charm.

It’s funny how a game full of cum jokes and cartoon parodies ends up feeling more alive than most serious stuff. Maybe because it doesn’t care if you take it seriously. One minute you’re saving humanity, next you’re wiping something off Raven’s cape while she pretends not to blush. If there were awards for “Most Unnecessarily Emotional Cum Scene,” this one wins without competition.