4/1 Status Update (Patreon)

No April Fools joke this year, sorry. After making NTR Squared last year, my plan was to make NTR Cubed, a real NTR game. But since I made Netoria that joke doesn't really work anymore. And then I planned to make an AI generated game but it didn't really work out. I'll post the script for it though because it was kind of funny.

So, no jokes, just updates about what I've been doing. And this week that was making a bug patch for Netoria Chapter 5, and doing lots of stuff for At the Mountains of Friendship. I fleshed out some sex scenes, got more UI elements finished, worked on hiring voice actors, got work started on girl 11, all kinds of stuff.

This is what the recruit scene UI looks like right now. Some elements are still getting polished up, but it's close. The eye is animated and moves around now which is cool. That background isn't the final one though, I commissioned a new one just for this scene. 

Girl 11 is code named Castatrophy, and her aesthetic is goth and her fetish is futanari. Mechanically, she buffs up girls who have cats as their favorite pets. That mechanic was pretty underutilized so girls 11 and 12 will both interact with it. The way I'm planning on implementing the pairings of the new girls is to have their two sex scenes be with an existing pair, this is because it lets me make threesomes! If Catastrophy gets to max friendship with both Riley (Tank) and Madison (GlassCannon), you'll unlock a threesome scene with them. This does raise the monthly cost and workload a bit, but I think it will be worth it.

For Netoria, I've been laying the groundwork for the end of story update, but it still has a long way to go. Unfortunately it's probably going to take longer than a month because the writing needs are pretty heavy and ATMOF needs a lot of attention over the next two months. But we'll see. I've started to get some sketches in for it, so let's take a look.

This update has a lot of sex in it, since it's the climax of the story, every route is getting to it's conclusion and people are sticking their dicks in all kinds of pussies. Just dicks in pussies everywhere. I've tried to keep the poses fairly varied but it's still a lot of the same thing. So in terms of art this update isn't very interesting, unless you like seeing pictures of people having sex for some reason.

That's all for this week. A lot got done, ATMOF is getting closer and closer to being ready. As always, thank you for your continued support.

Here's the AI generated short story. I gently nudged it in the right direction in some places, almost imperceptibly. 

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door— Only this and nothing more."

And the voice that spoke was cold and sweet — It said, " 'Tis some visitor, no doubt," And the voice that spoke was old, "tapping at my chamber door — Only this and nothing more!"

But it was actually a sexy lady! Cool! The witching hour is up—the night's work done—The grave's the place for such as he— We'll not disturb him in his slumbers.

" 'Tis none other than our own true love, returning from her wanderings far"— With her little finger she drew small circles in the air.

Then I threw off my clothes, but still she laughed and shook her head—"No, no—you must be clothed, you know, when one visits another—there are rules.

"But look at my dick. It's rock hard, bitch! Behold what we have wrought together—look how it stands straight up! Look how the skin tans to match the hair-do! All that was left undone is now all finished—by the powers that be!"

She looked so ravishingly beautiful in her white silk with that soft black hair piled high upon her head, that I forgot that I had taken vows of celibacy till death, or some such thing. My heart stood still within me and a thrill of delight ran through my veins like wine.

I seized her in my arms and kissed her lips, and then we mounted into my carriage where, by the light of the moon, we made passionate love. I am not ashamed to say that she was everything I could wish for.

We talked of lovers past and future, of life and death, of our mutual joys and sorrows; and then, kissing each other good night (she wore a long silken robe), I watched her as she bared her breasts before me.

They were like two big orbs of quicksilver, but less liquid metal and more titty. Her nipples were like stones. They stuck out stiffly from between those rosy swellings, which seemed to have grown all the bigger since they last saw the sun.

I gazed at them awhile, trying to imagine how they would feel in my mouth. But soon I began to think of something else —something quite different. For my dear beloved was wearing a pair of stockings. Stockings! I remembered the words of the poet:

" 'Tis the fashion to wear stockings on the sea-shore!"

"Fashion indeed!" I said to myself. "What a fool I was ever to go against the grain!"

Then I tried to rise and make my escape, but she clung tightly to my arm.

"Hold! hold, my darling," she cried. "What is this? What is this?"

I explained about the poet and the stockings. She listened attentively, and then said, "You have been reading again."

"Nah, reading is for losers, you know that," I explained. "It's poets who write books, and read them after they're written. Poets are all born without the faculty—they can never do anything right. I've always had the faculty," and here I slapped my forehead with my hand.

"So, you see, I understand poetry," I continued. "The great poet of our age—Lord Byron—he wrote a poem called 'Lady Godiva,' you know. In it he says, ' 'Tis the fashion to wear stockings on the sea-shore!'"

My dear beloved considered this and then she smiled, and her smile was like the sun coming forth from behind the clouds.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do!" she cried. Then she turned to the coachman and said, "Drive us down to the water's edge. Let us walk there, where the waves break and foam."

As we walked along the shore, my girl took off her shoes and stockings, and then we sat down upon a little sand-bank to talk of our future.

Our thoughts were of heaven. Our dreams were of bliss. We held each other's hands, and we were happy.

It was three o'clock in the morning when we returned to our hotel.

And then she gave me a handy. Nice.