Hotel Tutwin

I am all for less than polished gaming titles but this one is sloppy, transphobic, one-track, and so boring it becomes a chore to interact with literally any character at any moment. The romance lines are blurry to the point that it is almost impossible to choose a path that does not end with the clear "true ending" male lead or some last minute stand in when you refuse to run the crumbling hotel with him. The characters are one dimensional in the most joyless of ways and the whole game is best left unplayed. I hate to be so negative but this is such a stale, uninspired, and half-assed piece of media that even the "free to download" price is too high. Time is precious, save yours and don't play this weird, ugly, trashfire game.

Tarik. Isn't it funny how even real people don't arouse me in the same way he does? To me, it doesn't matter that Tarik is pure fantasy - my heart of hearts knows him to be out there. Before this game, I thought I knew love but after meeting the red-eyed vampire who's also a serial killer but it's framed like it's a cool thing and who also is the executioner for literal anime satan and who is totally immortal and who is like, totally relateable with his parental issues and who keeps edgy blood stained items around his house to remind you of his secret bad boy side all whilst becoming basically vampire jesus at the end... I just knew he was the man for me. Even typing about him like this my heart is breaking knowing that no matter how many posters of him I put up, no matter how accurate I make the art on his body pillow and no matter how many figurines I put on my Tarik jar he will never be real. I would do anything and everything to spend a single day with his beautiful, edgy body listening to MCR on the balcony of our gothic house. My face, covered in white foundation and with black eye liner, would stare longingly into his as we sipped seductively on blood. My breath condensing in the cold air would remind us both that we were both still living - if only on the outside, for our souls - much like our coffee - had turned black and bitter. Then, once the sun started to come up I would take him, hand in hand, and we would sleep together in a coffin until the moon came out once again. The only thing deeper than our love would be the deep pain we would feel at the thought of another day in this world and we would find solice only in the fact that nobody, especially our mothers, would ever truly understand that it is not a phase but a lifestyle.