Mira wakes up in a world that looks like somebody mashed together Skyrim mods, a horny D&D campaign and a trashy isekai anime they binge-watched on Crunchyroll while drunk. There are lecture halls with projectors and chalkboards, but outside the window you see floating ruins and half-dead eldritch skeletons drifting across the sky like they missed their bus. She’s supposed to be a “proper” adventurer-in-training, learning about mana theory and ancient rituals, but every time she walks down the academy corridor she ends up in some kind of mess involving too-short uniforms, invisible runes that definitely should not be glowing under her skirt, and at least one girl staring a bit too long at her thighs. The game just lets that linger. It loves the moment before anything actually happens, when you realise the class of mostly monster girls is way too interested in watching her squirm.

It plays like that friend in Discord who keeps sending you horny screenshots at work. One scene you’re in a serious lecture about old gods, the next you’re in the campus bathhouse where the tiles are foggy and someone “accidentally” left the door lock undone. There is a slow, lazy focus on skin, curves, texture, like the camera enjoys being a pervert as much as the player. The orc teacher with biceps like tree trunks leans over Mira to “correct her stance,” and her tank top rides up just a little too much, and you get a solid ten seconds of watching Mira pretend she isn’t staring at those abs. The demon girl has this perfect smug-face that feels like half of Twitter thirst posts, tail flicking while she backs Mira against a locker and whispers about all the things a proper mage’s body can endure. The satyr girl hides behind textbooks that are clearly too small to cover her boobs, especially when a stray wind spell blows through the courtyard. People in the background notice, their eyes follow, but nobody says it out loud; the whole game is like public indecency that society collectively agrees to ignore because it is fun to watch.

The school loves rules about modesty and discipline that exist only to be broken in front of an audience. Short skirts are “within regulations” if they technically cover the ass, which they do, until some enchanted gust flips Mira’s hem up right as she walks past a group of human supremacist boys who are very obviously trying not to look and failing miserably. The girls definitely look. There is a quiet lesbian hunger in almost every shot: the elf prodigy correcting Mira’s spell circle while her fingers linger way too long on Mira’s hip; the orc woman giving praise in that slow low voice that sounds more like a bedroom than a classroom; the satyr trying to explain lore while her eyes keep dropping to Mira’s cleavage like she forgot where faces are located. You are not just watching sex, you are watching people watch each other, watching them realise they’re into it. The humor hits that horny-gremlin vibe, like someone took the energy of late-night Reddit threads and stuffed it into a magical campus: boob jokes next to cosmic horror, panty flashes in the library where the books whisper about dead gods. It should not work, but it kind of does, especially when the camera just sits there while Mira pretends she doesn’t love being seen, her blush fighting with that tiny smirk at the corner of her mouth that says she really, really does.

It’s ridiculous, really - Fry crash-lands among yellow people and the first thing I notice is how the lighting in Moe’s bar makes everyone look like melted butter. That’s not a complaint, by the way, it’s kinda hot. The game starts off pretending to care about Fry’s “mission” or whatever, but everyone knows it’s about catching those awkward glances through half-open doors. You know that guilty thrill when you’re watching something you shouldn’t but can’t stop anyway? That’s the whole mood. I spent too long peeking at Marge cleaning up with that slow, bored face, and boom - there’s a toy lying around that definitely isn’t for cleaning. Then Homer walks in and I swear he stares at it like it owes him money. Anyway. The humor is nasty in a way I didn’t expect: cheap but confident, like it *knows* you’re gonna laugh right before doing something pervy.

It tricks you with “rpg” talk but it’s less about grinding stats and more about grinding, well, you know. One second I’m fiddling with an inventory full of… creative gadgets, next I’m accidentally triggering a voyeur sequence with Shauna and it’s both funny and embarrassingly detailed. The sort of scene you’d alt-tab from if anyone walked by, but also the one you’d think about while pretending to scroll Instagram later. What gets me is how Fry reacts; he’s equal parts idiot and horny philosopher, muttering about destiny while fumbling with something that buzzes. It’s peak absurdity, but somehow it fits this crossover chaos between Futurama and Springfield.

I keep telling myself the “writing” is what I like - the dumb jokes about quantum teleportation and Meg Griffin’s cameo that somehow spirals into a weird morality lesson (don’t ask what kind) - but nah, I’m lying to myself. It’s messy, dumb, sometimes too self-aware, but I don’t stop playing. The sandbox setup means half the fun is doing things out of order just to watch characters react like they remember last night’s mistakes. Sometimes they even mention you. That’s the part that kinda freaked me out. Maybe that’s the point: voyeurism isn’t about watching - it’s about getting caught.

Alright so this My Hero Academia parody thing caught me completely off guard. Like, I went in expecting some basic fanservice nonsense but ended up spending way too much time figuring out how to properly "counsel" Rumi Usagiyama without her kicking my virtual teeth in. The rabbit hero's got this whole tsundere energy mixed with straight-up predator vibes that honestly makes zero sense but somehow works? One minute she's calling you a weakling, next she's grinding against your lap during what's supposed to be a professional therapy session. The AI-generated artwork looks decent enough for what it is, though Midnight's proportions are absolutely ridiculous even by anime standards.

What really gets me is how the dialogue system actually matters here. You can't just mash through conversations hoping for the lewdest option - these heroines will shut you down hard if you come on too strong too fast. Mirko especially seems programmed to test whether you're actually paying attention to her personality quirks or just trying to speedrun to the sex scenes. When I finally unlocked her bedroom scene after like an hour of carefully balanced flirting and psychological manipulation, the payoff felt genuinely earned instead of just handed to me. Though honestly the handjob animations could use some work, they loop weird.

The sandbox structure lets you bounce between different heroines whenever you want, which is perfect for when Midnight starts getting too clingy or Rumi's attitude becomes insufferable. Each girl has her own therapy schedule and mood system that you gotta track, plus there's this weird minigame where you massage their stress points that's way more involved than it needs to be. Sometimes the translation feels a bit off too - like when Mirko says something that's probably meant to be seductive but comes out sounding like a grocery list. Still hit different though, not gonna lie.

You wake up beside her again, same as yesterday, same as the day before that - except she doesn’t remember your face. Not your name, not the way her legs wrapped around you last night, not the promises whispered against her ear. Every morning, she’s new. Blank. Soft. The game makes you feel like a bastard just for thinking about it, but then it tempts you harder - because who’s gonna stop you when she forgets every touch by sunrise? It’s dirty in that way that crawls under your skin and stays there, even when you pretend you’re just “testing different routes.” Sure. That’s what I told myself too.

Then her twin moves in, and things twist tighter. She looks at you with that same mouth, same body, but she remembers everything. There’s jealousy hiding under her polite smile. The kind that says she’s thought about you when she shouldn’t. Her hand brushes yours in the kitchen - accidentally, of course - and the screen flickers because the damn render bug still isn’t fixed. Doesn’t matter. You can almost feel her breath anyway. Later, when she knocks on your door at night, wearing nothing but guilt and a thin shirt, you’ll swear the devs coded temptation into the mouse cursor itself.

The corruption route hits hardest. Not because it’s the dirtiest (though, yeah, it is), but because it tricks you into believing you’re still the good guy. You watch her sister sneak into your bed, watch the girlfriend forget, watch yourself become someone you don’t recognize. There’s voyeurism baked right into the story structure - half the time you’re spying on your own conscience. The sex scenes aren’t shy: lips, fingers, wet sounds, the whole mess of it. Yet somehow it’s the morning after that feels filthiest, when she smiles at you like a stranger again. The game doesn’t punish you for cheating - it lets you drown in it. And maybe that’s worse.