Okay so the loading screen is a warning about this being AI generated and I'm like great, another one of those, probably has hands with seven fingers doing unspeakable things. But then you're just in this library. The sound of rain outside, a clock ticking somewhere. It's a slow build, you know? Lena starts her job, all buttoned up and quiet, and the game just watches her. You click and she thinks things. Boring things at first. Filing systems. The smell of old paper.

But there's this thing it does with the cursor. When a... let's call it a 'spicy' thought crosses her mind, the little pointer gets a faint pink glow. Barely noticeable. I spent ten minutes just hovering over random book spines trying to make it happen again. The game's about a girl discovering she might like other girls, or maybe just discovering *herself*, but it's wrapped in this weird psychological horror blanket. A book whispers. A shadow in the stacks looks a bit too much like a woman's silhouette. The tension is not from a monster jumping out but from Lena's own hand pausing before she touches a particular, unremarkable leather binding. The internal monologue is the real smut here, not the few actual erotic scenes. Those are... fine. Functional.

The contradiction is that for an AI-made game, the janky bits of the art actually help the horror vibe. When a character's expression doesn't quite move right, it's creepier than if it was perfect. But then the erotic parts hit and the same uncanny valley effect makes a breast look like a half-melted balloon animal and suddenly it's a comedy. A complete mood killer. You're all geared up from the psychological tension, the slow corruption of this quiet mouse of a woman, and then bam, a geometry error on a nipple. I kept playing though. Not for the jpegs. For the feeling that the library itself was a character. There's one part where she's in the restricted section and the text just says "You are not alone." and the music cuts out. No monster. Just silence. That was hotter than any of the actual sex scenes, honestly. The game is a messy little freak and I'm not sure it knows what it wants to be, but I was there for the confusion. The writing in the first half is genuinely good. The last third is like it got embarrassed and rushed.

Rating: and a half eaten planet

That half eaten planet means something. Trust me. Razuul wakes up from a nap that lasted centuries, right? And this girl Faja is just... there. On his planet. His actual body is the planet. She's stomping around with her attitude and her little mission to kill a god. The opening scene sets expectations perfectly because you're this cosmic entity and she's a speck, but the dialogue makes her feel bigger than you. Cocky little shit. I wanted to swallow her immediately. And you can. That's not a metaphor.

The corruption mechanics are where things get sticky. Not literally, unless you pick the slime path. Then very literally. You can play mind games, pretend to be nice, let her think she's winning. There's this moment where you choose between licking her or just... observing. I picked lick. Obviously. The text gets weirdly poetic about it, describing taste and texture while she's squirming. The giantess stuff isn't just size difference porn, it's about power. Real power. The kind where you could crush her but you don't. Not yet. The feet thing shows up unexpectedly and I'm still not sure how I feel about it. Actually I know exactly how I feel about it.

Wish there was more snake vore. The snake path is there but it's like a side dish when I wanted a main course. The slime vore though? Chef's kiss. Or whatever sound slime makes. The ryona elements are light, more about struggle than damage, which fits the no gore promise. Faja's arrogance cracks in different ways depending on your choices and watching that happen is better than any hardcore scene could be. The psychological horror tag is earned. Not because it's scary. Because you start enjoying being a god a little too much. The game knows this. It's watching you. Probably.

The whole thing feels like someone took a dating sim, dropped it in a blender with a Junji Ito manga, and hit pulse. You got Sora, this guy who ran away from his hometown so hard he probably left skid marks on the prefecture border. Now he's back because his sister's in a bad way, and immediately he's a teacher at an all girls academy. Sure. That tracks. The game never lets you forget the "parasite" metaphor from the opening text crawl, which is funny because the actual parasite is the sheer number of girls who want to jump his bones. Thirteen. I counted. Each one has a route, a trauma, a specific way their eyes go dead when the psychological horror tag kicks in.

The sex scenes are... look, they're unpolished in a way that loops back around to being fascinating. Like watching someone's sketchbook come to life. The anatomy goes weird sometimes, a breast will defy physics, a facial expression will freeze in a way that's supposed to be ecstasy but reads as existential dread. And maybe that's the point? The game's got this thing about lavender. SMELLING THE LAVENDER it keeps shouting at you in brackets like a nervous tic. There's a mystery dog. I never figured out the mystery. The dog just exists, a furry question mark in Sora's house, and nobody talks about it. I respect that.

The soundtrack is mostly just... wind. And silence. And then a sudden piano note that made me jump so hard I nearly closed the browser. Voice acting is sparse, mostly gasps and giggles, but one girl has this laugh that sounds like a music box winding down and I haven't stopped thinking about it. The slice of life moments tutoring in the library feel genuinely warm until you remember the ghosts Sora's been running from, the ones that are "breaking free from the shackles he himself forged." That's a direct quote. The writing swings wildly between that kind of purple prose and a girl just straight up asking if you want to see her panties. It's jarring. It's supposed to be.

I got lost in the school for twenty minutes looking for the one male restroom. That's a mechanic, I think. Or just bad design. Either way, it felt true to the experience of being a man in a space that doesn't want you. The mystery unravels in fragments, most of which you find while trying to get a handjob in the AV room. It's a mess. A deliberate, horny, haunted mess.