Kohei comes back to his old town for something boring like university, and instead walks straight into the kind of summer that fucks with your head for years after. It looks harmless at first. Childhood streets, cicadas screaming, cheap fans pushed to their limit, that older girl next door who used to ruffle his hair and laugh too loud. Misaki feels like she should be safe territory, familiar, almost family, this cozy fantasy of “onee-san who waited for you”. The game knows that expectation and plays with it in a way that’s honestly pretty mean. She’s still teasing, still bright on the surface, but her eyes slip away at weird moments, her smile freezes half a second too long. Small details like that. You pick a flirty choice, she laughs, leans in, you can almost smell her sweat and shampoo mix, and then some other guy’s name casually comes up and your stomach drops. It’s not subtle, and it’s not gentle.

The horny parts grow slowly, like mold in a corner you pretend not to see. At first you’re just choosing where to spend a day, which cheap cafe, whether to help her carry groceries. One scene you’re alone with Misaki in her apartment, the sun too bright through thin curtains, her in a loose tank top and shorts that ride up when she sits cross-legged. She offers you iced tea, your hand brushes her thigh when you take the glass, she goes quiet for a second. That silence is hotter than any moaning later. The game loves those tiny pauses, the routes where nothing explicit happens yet are somehow dirtier in your head than the straight-up sex scenes. Then there are the runs where you lean into the NTR sickness on purpose, like poking a bruise. Letting her reply to that late-night message. Choosing not to follow her when she “just goes to meet an old friend”. Coming back to a half-buttoned blouse, a faint smell that is not your cologne, and a CG that stings more because she is still smiling at you like she wants to protect you from what already happened. It gives you options to avoid that, sure, to keep things “pure” and romantic, but you feel the game secretly smirking when you pick them, like a producer forced to include a vanilla route to keep the sponsors calm.

What makes it interesting for me as a genre nerd is how it plays with POV shifts. One route you’re stuck inside Kohei’s head, rationalizing, pretending it’s fine, one bad choice, no big deal. On another, it flips and suddenly you’re watching scenes where you’re not supposed to be present at all, getting that ugly voyeur thrill. Sometimes you see Misaki from another guy’s eyes, the way he studies the sweat creeping along her neck, the way her body reacts even when her voice says “we shouldn’t”. That’s where the eroticism goes from simple horny to slightly cruel, because it forces you to admit that her desire is not a thing you own. And still the game offers proper romance lines, soft endings where you manage to hold on to her and build something tender out of all this mess. Those paths feel almost suspicious, like you wandered into a different title hosted on the same site by accident. But that contrast gives the sex extra charge. A slow kiss in a quiet room means one thing when you trust her; the same CG, same pose, after you saw what she did in another route, becomes loaded with paranoia, with “who touched you like this yesterday”. It is not elegant writing, not “high art”, but it understands really well how lust, jealousy, nostalgia and that stupid first-love hope all bleed into each other and make you click “next” even when you already hate the ending you know you’re walking toward.

Millie's got that thicc demon energy that hits different when you're supposedly dead but somehow hornier than ever. This Helluva Boss parody throws you into Hell's most dysfunctional assassination company where the mystery of your own demise takes backseat to getting spanked by cartoon demon girls with impossibly round asses. The whole "solve your death" plotline? Yeah, that gets real fuzzy when Mildred's bent over showing off assets that defy both physics and good taste.

What starts as detective work quickly devolves into pure horniness wrapped in familiar red-skinned characters doing things Vivienne Medrano definitely didn't approve for cable. The paranormal elements feel more like convenient excuses to get freaky with monster girls who somehow make being dead seem like the best career move you never made. Male protagonist stumbles through Hell like he's got permanent brain fog, which honestly tracks when every demon chick is packing heat in all the right places. The cheating mechanics add this weird guilt layer that shouldn't work but absolutely does - nothing says "I'm investigating my mysterious death" quite like raw-dogging your way through the entire I.M.P. roster.

The spanking scenes hit with that cartoon physics energy where asses jiggle like they're made of premium jello, and honestly? The 2D art style works better for this kind of degenerate content than any realistic approach could. Helluva Game knows exactly what it is - shameless fan service disguised as mystery solving, where the real mystery becomes how many demon girls you can corrupt before remembering you're supposed to be dead. The parody elements nail that irreverent Helluva Boss humor while cranking the sexual tension to levels that would make Blitzo blush. Sure, the plot about your death exists somewhere in there, but good luck caring when Millie's teaching you new definitions of "workplace harassment."

The first thing I thought after a few minutes was - why does it feel like a fever dream made by someone who got lost between a lab manual and a wet dream? The tone is weirdly confident, like the game knows it’s absurd and just leans into it. One moment you’re staring at a microscope screen, the next a pair of soft giggles echo in your ear and you forget there’s supposed to be *science* involved. The twins - god, they’re both trouble in different flavors. The older one pretends she’s got morals, the younger one pretends nothing at all matters. They circle you like cats, teasing until you can’t tell who’s leading anymore. It’s the kind of harem setup that should feel predictable, but doesn’t, because everyone acts like they’ve read too many philosophy posts on Twitter and now weaponize flirting as research.

There’s this one scene - animated in that slow, almost-too-smooth way - where she’s trying to keep a serious conversation while her hand is very much *not* serious, and you can feel the POV shake like the dev forgot to stabilize it. It’s oddly intimate, messy even, which I liked more than I expected. The humor sneaks in during those in-between breaths; the hero mutters something about “empirical data” right before a creampie moment, and it’s so dumb it becomes sexy again. Sometimes the pacing flatlines, like the game just needed a cigarette break. Other times it spikes into this blurry intensity that makes you forget your phone is heating up in your hand. I still don’t get the romance angle though - it’s half sincere, half ironic, like everyone’s pretending not to be lonely while naked.

I keep thinking how the visuals give everyone that soft plastic shine, but I don’t even care after a while. The dialogue is clumsy and weirdly poetic, like it was translated by someone half-drunk on dopamine. There’s a virgin subplot I wanted to hate, but then it turns awkward and human and suddenly I did care. I started imagining sketching the twins, one smirking, one looking away, both glowing under fake lab light. Maybe that’s the spell - it’s trashy and stupid and kind of brilliant.

The first time I logged into this thing, I didn’t even care about the classes or whatever plot it pretends to have - the way the avatars breathe, the tiny tremor in their lips before a kiss, that’s what got me. It’s like the devs poured all their soul into making skin look touchable. There’s this one girl in a half-armored cosplay outfit, silver hair glowing like some digital eclipse, and when she leans close, her breath fogs your screen. Maybe I imagined that, but hell, it felt real. The sci-fi cities behind her hum like they’re alive, something between a nightclub and a dream you shouldn’t be having. The game doesn’t shout about its mechanics, but when you figure out how to sync movement and body sensors, it’s almost too much - like your nerves are being rewritten to crave every vibration.

Sometimes the story pretends to be about mystery - a missing player, a corrupted zone - but nobody’s really fooling anyone. The real puzzle is how long you can last before giving in to pure heat. The VR immersion slips between sweet and filthy faster than your mind can keep up; one moment you’re chatting with a student NPC about history, next she’s on her knees, glasses sliding down, eyes wide like she’s learning anatomy for the first time. There’s group stuff too, awkward at first until it’s not. Someone mentioned modders replaced the background drones with moaning echoes; I laughed until it happened in my session and I swear it made everything feel more chaotic and alive. The music, though? Too clean. Needs something grittier, maybe a heartbeat instead of these sterile synths.

I still can’t get over the fact that clothing physics act like they’ve got personalities - skirts that refuse to stay where they should, latex that remembers your touch. You can taste the future here, but it’s messy and dripping and maybe a bit too honest. Every time I log out, reality feels thinner, like a veil that won’t settle right.