About this game
The sprite work. I keep coming back to the sprite work. Lucy's little victory wiggle after she plates a perfect gelatin mold, that slight hip tilt when she catches you staring. The animator understood something about anticipation. The way a skirt hem hesitates before settling. My linguistics training is useless here, it's all in the shoulders, the neck, the pause before a blush floods the cheeks. There's a scene where she's kneading dough and the rhythm of it, the push and fold, it's more obscene than anything explicit. I watched it loop for maybe three minutes. Four.
The plot is corporate desperation meets matrimonial farce. You're a VP drowning in bad investments, she's the heiress with a 1950s cookbook and a secret tucked under all that crinoline. The reveal isn't a shock so much as a rearrangement. A question mark at the end of a sentence you thought was a statement. The writing is oddly tender in places it has no right to be, like when discussing the proper starch for a collar, and then it'll hit you with a line about the curve of a calf in a seamed stocking that makes you forget the tea is getting cold.
The choices feel like they matter but I couldn't tell you why. Something about the way the dialogue tree branches, or doesn't. I picked an option that seemed cruel just to see the reaction and the sprite's expression flickered, just a frame, something about the eyes, and I had to close the tab and sit with the ceiling for a bit. The gay and lesbian tags are there but it's more about the specific collapse of categories, the moment a label peels off like old wallpaper. The teasing isn't just flirtation, it's a negotiation of identity performed through casserole dishes and the way light hits a pearl earring. The animated bits are sparse but surgical. A hand on a doorframe. The slow turn of an ankle. It's not a game about fucking so much as the architecture of wanting. I think. I lost my train of thought looking at the apron strings.