Yellow County looks like that fake postcard California you see in old OVAs, all palm trees and boobs and nothing smells like piss. You roll in as this young guy whose life just fell apart, parents dead in this “accident” everyone keeps repeating like a broken VHS, and instantly the place feels wrong. Sunny, yeah, but the kind of sun that makes you sweat under your clothes and stare at every milf in yoga pants walking her tiny dog. The game leans hard into that feeling. One moment you’re talking with some cop about your parents’ case, next moment you’re pressed against a kitchen counter with his gorgeous older sister grinding on your thigh while she “comforts” you. She does the slow teasing thing, hand resting too long on your chest, nails dragging over your neck, pretending she’s just being motherly. Then her fingers slip under your shirt and you know you’re not her little anything. That first time she drops to her knees and starts licking the shaft from base to tip like she’s testing a popsicle flavor, you kinda forget you were supposed to be sad.

What I liked is how the sex scenes don’t just pop up like in those old Flash games. There’s that build up. Like the scene at the beach house, when you’re helping the hot landlady pick up some boxes. She bends over just a bit too far, bikini top fighting for its life, and the camera just sits there, slowly tracking her ass while you’re pretending to look at the ocean. She “accidentally” backs her butt into your crotch, feels how hard you are, and instead of freaking out she gives this smug smile. Next thing, she has your hands on her tits from behind, telling you in a low voice that a real man grabs tighter. You’re squeezing soft flesh, thumbs brushing her nipples, and she keeps talking about rental contracts while your dick is throbbing against her ass. When she finally gets on her knees in that fancy living room with the huge window behind her and takes you in her mouth, the animation actually sells the wetness. Lips sliding, spit dripping, her tongue swirling around the tip, cheeks hollowing as she goes deeper. It’s messy in a good way, like old-school ero anime where they actually cared about the way the jaw moved. She gags a little, wipes her mouth, smiles, and then goes back down, faster this time, until you grab her hair and fuck her throat. No romance there, just raw “I earned this discount on the rent” energy.

But then, weirdly, the game flips and gives you that soft stuff too. There’s a scene later with another older woman who’s closer to your parents’ old circle, she’s elegant, more serious. You come back from chasing some lead about the murders, totally burned out, and she just pulls you into her bedroom like it’s the most normal thing. She sits you on the edge of the bed, climbs into your lap, and kisses you slow. Not porn-fast. First just lips, then she opens, and her tongue moves like she’s done this a thousand times but still wants to make you feel special. When you slide your hand under her dress she stops you for a second, looks in your eyes like she’s checking if you’re really there, then guides your fingers to her pussy herself. She’s already wet. You feel her shiver when you rub her clit, and the sound design here is almost too much, those tiny gasps, the soft moans when you push two fingers inside. When she finally sinks down on your cock, riding you slow, her big tits bouncing with every move, it actually feels like something between you, not just cheap fucking. She wraps her arms around your neck, whispers that she’s proud of you for trying to find the truth, then starts slamming her hips harder and harder until her ass is just clapping against your thighs. Right after that she flips you on your back, grabs your wrists and pins them above your head while she keeps riding, then suddenly slaps your chest and tells you to spank her. That switch from caring to filthy is peak ero game energy. You smack her ass, red palm prints blooming on her cheeks, and she moans louder every time, begging you not to stop while you pound her soaked pussy like the world outside doesn’t exist. And somewhere in the middle of all that sweat and spit and cum you remember this whole thing started with your parents’ death, which is kind of fucked up, but also exactly the sort of tonal whiplash we were eating up in the old days.

Lost Freedom is that kind of game where you open it “just to check it out” and suddenly you’re neck deep in family drama, bad decisions and way too many people calling the main guy “sir” a bit too respectfully right before doing very disrespectful things. Everything spins around this clueless dude who finds out way too late that he has a daughter, and she’s not a sweet little princess. She’s a bratty, proud, sexy trouble magnet with a temper, big tits, big ass and zero interest in behaving. The writing really leans into that: she mouthes off, tests boundaries, tries to keep control, then flips when the main character doesn’t fold. And of course, the more they argue, the more the game makes you watch her bend over in tight clothes, sit on the couch with her legs half open, stretch in front of him like some kind of half-accidental porn audition. You know exactly where it’s going, the game knows you know, and it still drags out the slow burn just enough to make all the creampie scenes feel like a massive “yeah, this was always going to happen”.

The structure is “lineal” like the dev warns, but it cheats a bit. You click through what looks like a straight visual novel, then out of nowhere the coworker route pops up and suddenly you’re fake dating a cute redhead for her parents while the daughter is sulking at home. That redhead’s whole thing is hilarious and horny at the same time. She’s shy and polite in public, then five minutes later she’s riding the MC like she’s late for work, moaning about wanting his kid inside her, and the game really zooms in on her feet grabbing his back or her toes curling when he goes down on her. And then there’s the blonde “enemy” girl, who exists mostly to piss off the daughter and to casually suck dick like she’s smoking after a long day. Half the fun is watching the scenes where the blonde and daughter are in the same room, pretending to be civil while the MC is remembering how both of them taste. The jealous stares, the tight dresses, the not-so-subtle camera focus on their asses when they argue about stupid office stuff. Then the boss shows up, older, stacked, legs for days, and suddenly you’re getting a blowjob in an office chair while Slack notifications ping in the background like your real life is demanding attention.

What I kind of enjoyed way too much is how the sex scenes are animated just enough to feel dirty, but not overproduced. There’s this one scene where the daughter is riding him in that slow, circular grind, hair stuck to her sweaty face, and the camera holds on the creampie shot longer than it should, like the game is proud of itself. Another moment, the blonde is on her knees at work, licking the MC’s cock from base to tip, pausing to kiss his shaft like she’s teasing the player, then she takes him deep and you see the slight gag, the little eye roll, the way her lipstick smears. And the feet stuff just sneaks in, no big announcement. The daughter putting her bare feet on his lap while acting like she doesn’t know what she’s doing, or sliding her toes over his hard-on under the table, or that redhead pumping him off with her soles before riding him, asking to be filled and knocked up like some cute breeding toy. The romance is there, in a twisted “I love you but I’m also fucking your boss and your rival” way, and the endings feel more like “which mess do you want to sleep in forever” than some clean happy-ever-after. Honestly, if porn dating sims had awards, this one would probably win “Most Efficient Use Of Questionable Family Bonds And Office Bullshit To Justify Creampies In Every Hole” without even trying.

Guy starts out as total loser energy, right? No money, boring life, dad’s a weirdo, same four walls, same browser tabs, same boring porn. Then he finds out this family secret and suddenly it’s like someone toggled “god mode” on his bloodline. Not in the superhero sense, more like “oh, I can twist people’s minds and push them where I want” kind of way. And that hits harder when you realize most of the hot women around him are already kinda messed up in the head. There’s this really fun contrast: his vibe is still this awkward dude with messy room and hand-me-down clothes, while at the same time he’s casually nudging a proud older woman into flashing her tits from the balcony because he said it’d be “liberating.” She argues, blushes like crazy, then does it, and you feel that little “oh shit, I really made her do that” in your stomach along with the boner. That mix of guilt and arousal the game does a lot. It’s not subtle. It’s not trying to be moral. But it knows exactly what button it’s pushing.

The rooms and streets feel like they exist so you can wander around and hunt for those small dirty moments. Opening the fridge and catching your “relative” bending over in this thin T-shirt that basically draws the shape of her ass with the cloth, then later using that mental image to push a bit harder when you finally talk her into “just a kiss” that slides into tongue and then she ends up riding you on the couch like she’s been waiting for it for years. Dialog is where you feel the localization a lot. Some lines are a bit stiff, like “I will make you mine completely,” which sounds like a telenovela, but then there is this one scene where the older neighbor calls you “little parasite” while her nipples are poking through her blouse and it lands perfectly. The grammar slips here and there, but to be honest it kinda matches the MC’s brain. His thoughts read like someone who learned English from porn comments and Discord, and that’s not even a complaint. I was reading his inner monologues and going “yeah, that’s exactly how my brain sounds when I’m trying not to stare at someone’s cleavage on the subway.”

Sex scenes go from tender to completely fucked up faster than Chrome opens another tab. One route I had this shy girl doing cute, slow missionary, legs shaking, moaning your name soft, and then like two scenes later you’ve got her pressed to a wall, panties around one ankle, your hand on her throat while she’s begging you to finish inside her because she “belongs to you now.” The corruption ramp is actually pretty good at showing the steps. First she just sends you a slightly risky pic from the bathroom, you tease her about how you can almost see her pussy, and she says “don’t be gross.” Next scene she’s on video call pushing a dildo inside herself and asking if you’re going to “upgrade” her soon. The pacing feels weird sometimes, like scenes jump from teasing to full anal like the writer skipped two pages, but the core beats are hot enough you kinda forgive it in the moment. Also the tiny detail of having to grind a bit of cash or power before pushing further adds this nice tension: do I spend my energy convincing the classy MILF to cheat on her husband again, or do I break that cute girl’s mind a little more until she agrees to walk around town without panties because “you like it.” The game keeps dangling those choices in front of you, and every time you tell yourself you’ll be nice this time, you end up stuffing someone full of cum and marking them like property anyway.

You’re stuck in a dusty foreign base with a shitty Wi‑Fi signal and a gun that feels lighter than your stomach, and all you really have is your phone and a redhead you’re scared to lose. That’s basically the heartbeat of this thing. You’re the soldier, she’s Grace, making coffees for random assholes while you count the days, and the game never lets you forget that there’s an entire ocean between you when the worst possible guy walks into her cafe. Not a thug, not some cringe teen. A smooth, confident photographer who actually listens to her, calls her beautiful without stuttering, and knows exactly where to put his hands on a woman’s waist for “just the right pose.” It hits way harder than some cartoon villain, because he acts normal. Too normal.

The way it starts is almost boring in a good way. Your first calls with Grace are sweet, a little awkward. You talk about missing her, she tells you about rude customers, tips, her stupid co-worker, what she wore to work. And then she casually mentions “this photographer guy” who said she has a good face for his next project. Nothing dramatic. It just sits in your head. Later you unlock options during calls: push her to chase the opportunity, or brush it off, or sound jealous without admitting it. The game never slaps you with morality. You just feel it when she texts you a selfie from the shoot, wearing a dress that hugs her in all the places you remember touching, and you know some other man asked her to tilt her hips like that. The 3D scenes are clean and very physical: the way her bra strap slides down her pale shoulder, the shine on her lips from cheap cafe gloss, the slightly nervous way she holds her own elbow at first. Then in later shoots she doesn’t do that anymore. That tiny change hit me harder than the first kiss scene.

Sex here is not just porn filler. Early on, you get those needy calls at night, where she whispers your name in bed, fingers moving under the sheets, and you can guide how dirty the talk gets. If you encourage her to explore, she gets bolder, sending pics from the bathroom, pushing her panties aside to show just the wet line between her thighs, asking if you still want her even if other men look at her. If you give her strict “no flirting, no photos” vibes, the tension twists into something rougher later. There’s a run where she shows up at the photographer’s studio in a loose shirt and no bra, nipples poking through when the room gets cold, and you can practically feel the moment she stops thinking about you and starts thinking about how it feels when he stands behind her, guiding her hands, telling her to “trust the process” while his fingers spread her legs for a more “intimate composition.” It’s corruption, but not fast; it’s this slow slide where every choice you made before suddenly matters while she’s on that couch, thighs open, breathing hard, trying to convince herself it’s still “just art” even as his tongue is on her and her phone with your unread message is lighting up on the table behind her.

And the worst part? Half the time, when she calls you after, her voice is soft, almost more loving, because the guilt makes her clingier. So you’re there on a crackly line saying you can’t wait to fuck her brains out when you get home, imagining her wet and untouched, and the game zooms on those faint red marks on her inner thighs from someone else’s grip. No dramatic music. Just that quiet “I miss you” in your ear while she’s still sore from another man.