My Mildly Embarrassing Yet Surprisingly Insightful Obsession with Interactive Romance Games

 

So, I recently discovered something about myself. Something a bit unexpected. Something that, if I weren’t already deeply committed to vulnerability and oversharing on this site, I might keep locked in the vault with that one time I cried during a Lucky Charm's commercial. I’ve become mildly—okay, deeply—addicted to interactive romance narrative games. 

You know the kind: Too Hot to Handle, The Ultimatum, Single’s Inferno, and Secret By Episode. Basically, the digital version of reality dating shows and soap operas, but where you’re the lead character. 

Yes, you. 

Not the charming villain in a tux or the emotionally unavailable one with cheekbones carved by the gods—but you. Or, at least, a pixelated approximation of who you’d like to be when you’re emotionally regulated, unnaturally bold, and rocking an outfit you’d never have the confidence (or budget) to wear in real life. 

Now, let’s be clear: these games are deeply flawed. The dialogue sometimes reads like it was written by a slightly undercaffeinated AI. The animation can be awkward enough that I feel secondhand embarrassment for my character. And if you’re playing as a heterosexual male—which I do, because authenticity, people—the game often still treats your character like a woman, with more male options than female. 

You’ll be checking out guys’ abs like it’s the only goal in life, and your love interests will flirt with you using all the subtlety of a sledgehammer dipped in cologne. And yet? I can’t stop. 

There’s an immersive, intoxicating quality to these games. Despite their clunky interface and their suspicious claim that your choices shape the story (spoiler: they usually don’t), I find myself getting invested. I try out bolder responses, or I play the nice guy, or occasionally the chaotic wildcard just to see how it plays out. 

It's like a mildly risqué choose-your-own-adventure novel where the stakes are low, the shirts are always off, and every character seems to live at the gym. And sure, there are only about three actual plot paths and two of them end in a hot tub. But something about being able to pretend I’m someone different—someone smooth, someone confident, someone with a six-pack and a million flirty comebacks—is weirdly cathartic. 

Maybe it’s a neurodivergent thing. I’ve always liked stories where I can explore different versions of myself, and in these games, I get to do that without judgment. Nobody rolls their eyes if I pick the goofy flirt option. No one interrupts me mid-dialogue with, “That’s not what a normal person says, Christopher.” 

So yes, I’m spending more time than I probably should navigating love triangles with fictional influencers. And yes, I’ve rolled my eyes at the dialogue more times than I can count. But I’ve also laughed, been surprisingly moved, and maybe even learned a bit more about myself. 

Plus, where else can you woo a DJ, betray your best friend, and have a steamy yacht rendezvous all before your coffee gets cold? Exactly. 

What’s the weirdest game you’ve ever gotten hooked on?