I got about seven minutes of ironic enjoyment out of it.
Seven minutes of marvelling at the visuals (which, yes, are rather reminiscent of MS Paint, Windows Movie Maker, DeviantArt Flash games and whatever else comes to your mind when you think about what a mentally-stunted 30 year old would use to make baby's first porno,) whisper-shouting "WHAT THE FUCK?" at the empty dark bedroom surrounding me in childlike glee, and Googling what metempsychosis was, wondering if it was some subset of psychosis induced exclusively by this piece of media- it certainly feels like it could be used as a schizophrenia simulator, why not? Seven minutes of skipping through sex scenes to get back to the real fuckfest, seven minutes of disjointed story, seven minutes of heaven for the only person alive who genuinely DOES watch hentai for the plot.
And after seven minutes, boy, does the novelty wear off quick.
It's mesmerising to start- you find your eyes glued to the screen. It's like a form of hypnosis that starts out fun, like a strange adventure, and as you continue on your journey hopping up over tree roots and onto mossy stones you find the forest around you grows deeper, darker, and by the time you realise how little you like this adventure and look back, the rest of the overgrown woodlands appear just as foreboding.
That is to say, it's kind of garbage, and it's not even good garbage. It's not one man's trash and another's treasure- it's just one man's trash and another's rapidly disintegrating Furby from 2008 (not even vintage) that squawks "I love you!" at you as you toss it back in the rubbish heap upon realising it has visible bed bugs.
That last part made me sad. I never had a Furby, but I feel a strong emotional connection to them.
The TLDR without any convoluted metaphors is that it was funny at first but I got bored, and if you can manage to make something this fucking ridiculous boring, your work's bad. The hentai's 4/10, the knowledge that the Pentagon banned Furbies in 1999 is 10/10.
