Stygia
 
 
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A biting critique on modern pickup culture disguised as hollow smut. Piercing social commentary hiding as the product of the very society it lampoons.

You are cast as a young man (or nominally a woman) drinking alone in the middle of the night. A character who begins without hope, struggling in the darkness of his existence, hoping without hope for change. His pleas for help resonate through the blind uncaring universe and, in a perverted twist of fate, something responds. The young man is rescued from his existence by a being which bears the visage of an angel and presents itself as a savior to the young man. It promises deliverance from the lonely dark, offering its knowledge of carnal conquest as a means of finally entering the light. The young man accepts its offer without hesitation, for someone has finally come to save him.

The protagonist is trained in the ways of approaching women and obtaining their favor for the purposes of making love. He learns how to talk to them, what things they like, what kind of dates they enjoy. And in this he obtains hope, he obtains happiness, he obtains a goal. The man now walks the path to enlightenment, the path to orgasm. Perhaps even... the path to love? As he climbs the mountain of his goal he experiences the joy of success and the bitterness of loss, an ever upward struggle as he improves himself and climbs closer and closer to his goal. He gets to know the young woman he focuses his attentions on, her goals, her fears, what she is, what she wants to be. And when he finally succeeds he takes her to his bedchambers, insecure and fumbling he awkwardly tries to please her, it is difficult, he fails many times only to begin again, but that only makes the eventual success all the more ecstatic. He has done it, he has obtained enlightenment.

The young man is eager for more, he knows the thrill and joy of his first conquest, his first love, can be repeated again and again with the near infinite supply of women in the world. He has found the key to nirvana, and angel from the heavens has shown him the way. He strikes out his his new knowledge and seduces another young woman, repeating the same battle, the same struggle of winning a girl's heart, the same ecstasy of success. He strikes again and again, five, six, seven times. Something nags at the back of his mind. Eight. Ten. Twelve. Eighteen. He's lost track? They blur together, women who's names he does not know, faces, dates, hopes, dreams, all nothing before him. The young man begins his slow spiral again into despair. The once exquisite struggle of winning a girl's heart becomes meaningless calculation, selecting the right tool for the right job so that he might once again bed another meaningless face. The game presents this futility in the mechanic of its dates, a repetitive series of simple tasks that blur together, unremembered, uncared for.

In the end what should be the young man's joy of success, of coitus, becomes yet another meaningless mechanical task. Left unattended for too long, or done too slowly, the female's orgasm meter slides quickly back to zero, sex for the young man is turned into nothing but a frantic task, he has no time to enjoy the pleasures of the woman he is with, no time to gaze upon her perfect face and supple body. There is only the precise mechanical action, the empty act of sex, remembered only in a pair of panties each girl leaves behind. What was once a reward for his work is now just another action he must perform, this time for no reward, he simply does it for it is what he does, all he knows.

The young man slides deeper and deeper into madness, meaningless dates, meaningless women, meaningless sex. All is nothing before his gaze. He has become a drone of modern society, a machine which has sex and does not know why, a product of pickup culture, no strings attached pleasure without reason. He is left more broken than he started for he has gazed into the void, his only savior turned demon. He knows now that there is nothing.

The player closes the window, bored of the game.

But for the young man there is no game, only his life.

The young man closes his life.

Highly recommend at it's current sale price of 69% off
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Wiwwow 3 de out. às 18:28 
i'm sorry, you can come to my home and kill me if you want.
Wiwwow 14 de ago. às 9:53 
I hope your puny, pathetic apple ROTS.
Sir Chuffed Puffin 3 de ago. às 18:56 
lol
Wiwwow 3 jul. 2021 às 7:09 
I'm sorry, you can come to my home and kill me if you want.
SIGH
Wiwwow 27 jun. 2021 às 11:48 
oh also i hate you forever
Wiwwow 27 jun. 2021 às 11:47 
they're much more fitting than AWDRII ever was