The redhead is the first thing that gets you. Not in a "oh, she's cute" way, more like she walked out of a fever dream with that hair practically glowing against the dark hallways. Her name's something I already forgot, but she's the one feeding you missions while Gabe, that loud idiot, screams into a camera somewhere off screen. You're the fixer, the one who does the actual work before the show tapes. And the work is... look, it's a visual novel about ghost hunting. You click, you read, sometimes you pick what to say next.

But the ghosts. Right. The ghosts are horny. There's no delicate way to put it. One minute you're checking EMF readings in a dusty basement, the next a spectral hand is doing things that would get a living person arrested. The game doesn't pretend to be scary. The horror tag is a joke, a Halloween costume it wears while grinding against your leg. I laughed out loud when a supposedly terrifying apparition manifested just to whisper something absolutely filthy. The writing knows exactly what it is. That's rare.

The art though. Unpolished doesn't cover it. Some scenes look like they were sketched on a napkin during a lunch break, proportions going weird, eyes slightly off center. And yet. And yet when it clicks, when the artist actually tried, there's this one scene with the redhead in a torn shirt that made me forget the janky bits entirely. The fantasy elements clash with the modern setting in ways that don't make sense. Why is there a medieval ghost in a suburban house? Don't ask. The humor lands about half the time, the other half is just... noise. But that half that works? Genuinely funny. A ghost hunter arguing with a spirit about property taxes. I wish the game had more of that and less of the filler conversations that pad out the runtime. But it won't. It is what it is. A messy, occasionally hot, frequently stupid little thing that somehow works despite itself. Or maybe because of itself. I don't know anymore.