The Diddler. That's what they call the villain. A purple suited freak with a question mark cane and a laugh that sounds like a broken synthesizer. Splatman and Throbin are too busy oiling each other's capes to handle it, so Charlie, our blonde bombshell in a skintight Splatgirl suit, takes the lead. First scene, she's already bent over the Batcomputer console, fingers working herself while the dynamic duo bicker in the background about whose turn it is to drive the Splatmobile. The game doesn't even pretend to be polished. It's a glorious mess of janky animations and voice acting that sounds recorded in a bathroom.

Big tits. Let's just get that out there. Charlie's chest defies physics in ways that would make Bruce Timm blush. The double penetration scene with Splatman and Throbin comes out of nowhere. One minute you're clicking through dialogue about saving Pressed Ham City, the next Charlie's suspended between two caped crusaders, taking both ends while the Diddler watches from a rooftop. The cumshot lands across her face and those ridiculous bat ears on her cowl. I laughed. Got hard. Laughed again. The blowjob mechanics are basically a rhythm minigame but the timing window is so forgiving you could play it with your elbow.

What bugs me though, the masturbation scenes use the same three looped frames. Over and over. Charlie's fingers never quite line up with where her clit should be. It's like watching a bad gif from 2004. But then the threesome starts and suddenly the animation budget quadruples. Priorities, I guess. The writing is surprisingly self aware. Splatman keeps asking Throbin if his tights make him look fat. The Diddler's monologues are genuinely funny, something about taxing people who don't laugh at his jokes. You forget sometimes this is supposed to be porn until Charlie's on her knees again, blonde ponytail wrapped around Throbin's fist. The game knows exactly what it is. A shitpost with cumshots. And honestly? That's enough.