The camera lingers on her backside for a solid ten seconds before you even get a name. That’s the kind of game After Thunder is, and honestly, I respect the directness. It’s a 3DCG fantasy thing where you’re a poor kid who trained under some war hero, and now you’re supposed to climb the social ladder. The warrior caste, nobility, all that. The plot about protecting the realm from darkness is there, I guess, but it feels like the real darkness is just poor lighting in the brothel scenes.

The models have that specific kind of jank that makes everything feel a bit like a fever dream. There’s a warrior woman, a real milf type, with proportions that defy physics and armor that covers absolutely nothing important. Her tits have their own gravitational pull. I spent way too long trying to figure out if her spine was anatomically possible during a certain training sequence. The game doesn’t care. It just throws these massive assets at you and moves on. The big ass on the tavern keeper is another focal point, and the camera knows it, zooming in during dialogue like it’s trying to get a better look at a crime scene. The animation is stiff, like action figures being mashed together, but there’s a weird charm to it. You click through text, make a choice that probably doesn’t matter, and then you’re rewarded with a scene that’s rendered with the same care as a cutscene, which is to say, not much.

The sound design is mostly just a looping flute track that will burrow into your brain. The writing is... functional. It gets you from one encounter to the next. The whole thing is a male power fantasy so blatant it’s almost parody. You’re the chosen one, the outsider who gets to bang the elite. It’s not subtle. The fantasy setting is just wallpaper for the explicit stuff. I can’t even remember the main villain’s name, but I can vividly recall the exact texture of the oil on the warrior woman’s skin. That’s probably the point. The game knows what it is, a delivery system for lewd content with a thin layer of adventure painted over it. It’s unpolished, sure, but it’s deliberately so, like a grindhouse film that knows its budget went entirely to the practical effects, or in this case, the boob physics.