Imperial Chronicles [v1.0]
This game fooled me. At first, I thought it was just another erotic game with a bit of lore slapped on. But it wasn’t. It was something else entirely.
It was the kind of game I had wanted to play for years—deep world-building, real political stakes, characters with scars and secrets. It was smarter than it looked. Smarter than it had any right to be. And the biggest compliment I could give it was this: by the time the sex scenes showed up, I didn’t care about them anymore. I just wanted to see what happened next.
But with ambition came mess. And this game was messy.
There were too many choices. Too many plotlines. Too many forks in the road that all seemed minor—until hours later I realized I had missed something important. I found myself second-guessing every little scene. Replaying it all just to catch what had slipped past. It wore me down. But it also pulled me in deeper. The writing had this poetic, cryptic, Russian soul to it—“Runglish” that could trip me up, but when I let it flow, the scenes landed hard. Some of them stuck with me. They hurt in the right way.
Still, the tone was scattered. One moment the MC was knee-deep in courtly betrayal and sorcery, and the next he was watching the little sister play games like in a slice-of-life anime. It was hard to square those moods. Ophelia suffered from hybrid fever. Elin was a top-tier sorceress. But they acted like giddy schoolgirls half the time. Meanwhile, people were dying off-screen, and empires were shifting.
The deeper the MC got, the more surreal it became. Prophecies. Entities. Future visions. One told him to trust his reflection. Another said to kill it. Then he was told to break the wheel, which someone else had just warned him not to touch. It spiraled. He had seizures and fever dreams and barely understood any of it. Neither did I. Not really.
And the court mage? She was in on it all. No matter which origin I picked, she slinked off untouched. She was the spider in the web. And the worst that happened was she teleported away with no consequences. That stung.
The multiple origins were where the game stumbled most. The scholar got a vampire bodyguard. The mage got spells. The warrior got brute strength. Each path was good—but fractured. It felt like the main character should have been all of them. Or each origin should have been a full game of its own. Instead, I got parts of a whole that never quite fit.
Some characters seemed important but never spoke. The mother was supposedly revered in her homeland and part of a secret order, but she said nothing. She was just horny because of reasons. The elder sister wanted revenge, but her motive was paper-thin. The alternate realities Elin could open? Sometimes goofy, sometimes gut-wrenching, never explained. They just happened.
And yet I played for days. Dozens of hours. Every night. My pants never came off. That’s how good the writing was. The erotic content was rare, and honestly, it didn’t need more. The music was repetitive, sure, but when it hit, it hit hard.
What really threw me was how the story handled momentum. Just when the main character started making real choices, just when it felt like he was stepping into his role—bam. A coup in the capital. Suddenly, he was sent west to settle some diplomatic crisis. It felt like the game pulled the rug out. Like the dev was afraid to let him live in the castle and deal with the consequences. Afraid it would turn into just another porn game, maybe.
The mentors? One turned into a cat. One died chained in a dungeon. The third ran when the MC asked her hard questions—even though he had seen visions of her crimes. Visions that never came up again, no matter what I did. Same with the visions of his future daughters. He saw them—little girls from different wives. One more adorable than the next. Then it was never brought up again.
The game felt torn—between heavy political drama and weird, dreamy fantasy. Each part worked on its own. Together, they sometimes clashed. But even then, it still worked. Against the odds.
It was a beautiful mess. Wild. Flawed. Overstuffed. But still one of the best games I had played in the genre. It shot for something huge and didn’t land every blow, but damn, it got close.
This game fooled me. At first, I thought it was just another erotic game with a bit of lore slapped on. But it wasn’t. It was something else entirely.
It was the kind of game I had wanted to play for years—deep world-building, real political stakes, characters with scars and secrets. It was smarter than it looked. Smarter than it had any right to be. And the biggest compliment I could give it was this: by the time the sex scenes showed up, I didn’t care about them anymore. I just wanted to see what happened next.
But with ambition came mess. And this game was messy.
There were too many choices. Too many plotlines. Too many forks in the road that all seemed minor—until hours later I realized I had missed something important. I found myself second-guessing every little scene. Replaying it all just to catch what had slipped past. It wore me down. But it also pulled me in deeper. The writing had this poetic, cryptic, Russian soul to it—“Runglish” that could trip me up, but when I let it flow, the scenes landed hard. Some of them stuck with me. They hurt in the right way.
Still, the tone was scattered. One moment the MC was knee-deep in courtly betrayal and sorcery, and the next he was watching the little sister play games like in a slice-of-life anime. It was hard to square those moods. Ophelia suffered from hybrid fever. Elin was a top-tier sorceress. But they acted like giddy schoolgirls half the time. Meanwhile, people were dying off-screen, and empires were shifting.
The deeper the MC got, the more surreal it became. Prophecies. Entities. Future visions. One told him to trust his reflection. Another said to kill it. Then he was told to break the wheel, which someone else had just warned him not to touch. It spiraled. He had seizures and fever dreams and barely understood any of it. Neither did I. Not really.
And the court mage? She was in on it all. No matter which origin I picked, she slinked off untouched. She was the spider in the web. And the worst that happened was she teleported away with no consequences. That stung.
The multiple origins were where the game stumbled most. The scholar got a vampire bodyguard. The mage got spells. The warrior got brute strength. Each path was good—but fractured. It felt like the main character should have been all of them. Or each origin should have been a full game of its own. Instead, I got parts of a whole that never quite fit.
Some characters seemed important but never spoke. The mother was supposedly revered in her homeland and part of a secret order, but she said nothing. She was just horny because of reasons. The elder sister wanted revenge, but her motive was paper-thin. The alternate realities Elin could open? Sometimes goofy, sometimes gut-wrenching, never explained. They just happened.
And yet I played for days. Dozens of hours. Every night. My pants never came off. That’s how good the writing was. The erotic content was rare, and honestly, it didn’t need more. The music was repetitive, sure, but when it hit, it hit hard.
What really threw me was how the story handled momentum. Just when the main character started making real choices, just when it felt like he was stepping into his role—bam. A coup in the capital. Suddenly, he was sent west to settle some diplomatic crisis. It felt like the game pulled the rug out. Like the dev was afraid to let him live in the castle and deal with the consequences. Afraid it would turn into just another porn game, maybe.
The mentors? One turned into a cat. One died chained in a dungeon. The third ran when the MC asked her hard questions—even though he had seen visions of her crimes. Visions that never came up again, no matter what I did. Same with the visions of his future daughters. He saw them—little girls from different wives. One more adorable than the next. Then it was never brought up again.
The game felt torn—between heavy political drama and weird, dreamy fantasy. Each part worked on its own. Together, they sometimes clashed. But even then, it still worked. Against the odds.
It was a beautiful mess. Wild. Flawed. Overstuffed. But still one of the best games I had played in the genre. It shot for something huge and didn’t land every blow, but damn, it got close.
