The costume selection screen is where I lost my moral compass. You get this whole array of spandex options, each one more ridiculous than the last, and I'm sitting there thinking about Kant's categorical imperative while my cursor hovers over something that would make a stripper blush. The game knows what it's doing. It doesn't pretend otherwise.

Sandra's first mission briefing reads like someone fed Silver Age comics through a porn filter and honestly, that's the charm. Dr. Nefarius is cartoonishly evil in a way that makes you forget you're about to watch your character make terrible decisions for the sake of "infiltration." The text descriptions are surprisingly detailed, the kind where you scroll back up because wait, did it really just say that? Yes. Yes it did. The HTML format means everything loads like a fever dream from 2004, which somehow adds to the experience. There's a particular scene involving a "distraction technique" that I won't spoil but let's just say the superhero registration act doesn't cover this.

I wish the power selection mattered more. You pick these abilities at the start and then they barely come up except during one specific encounter where I genuinely laughed out loud at the absurdity of using telekinesis for... well. You'll know it when you see it. The game's about as polished as a gravel smoothie but that's almost the point. It's like someone took those old Choose Your Own Adventure books, spilled lube on them, and called it art. The writing oscillates between surprisingly clever and deliberately trashy, sometimes in the same sentence. There's a moment where Sandra monologues about responsibility that I'm pretty sure was stolen from a Spider-Man comic and repurposed for something Uncle Ben definitely didn't die for. The whole thing runs in your browser like it's ashamed to exist, which is appropriate.