Personally, I really like ClockUp’s games, because I always feel they’re very “real.” Yes, real — the kind of game that’s genuinely 18+ for adults, not one of those “it’s 18+ only because they bolted on some sex scenes” games. Honestly, if you stripped the optional HCGs out of a lot of 18+ games, the age rating would suit thirteen-year-olds better. ClockUp’s games are the opposite: even if you deleted every HCG, they still wouldn’t be okay for anyone under eighteen. It comes down to the content and the emotions the game expresses — stuff that’s hard for minors to stomach. Most of it delivers shocking gore and violence, and through those shocking images, thoughts about life and human nature. I always praise ClockUp’s games as insane, but not every ClockUp game is like that — it mostly depends on the scenario writer. Some bring in Light’s lead writer, like Nemurenu Hitsuji to Kodoku na Ookami and Maggot baits. Others are the series of small, deep works by Asa Ei, like Natsu no Kusari and euphoria. And this time Asa Ei took the pen again, teaming up with ClockUP on a new title: Erewhon.

Kikuzakura is a beautiful girl, with pretty pink hair, fair skin, and a sweet smile. She doesn’t remember her original surname. She doesn’t even know who her parents are. For as long as she can remember she’s lived with her grandmother. “Grandmother” is only the woman who took her in, not real blood relation. Kikuzakura has asked her many times: “Where are my mom and dad?” Grandma always smiles, strokes Kikuzakura’s head, and says slowly: “You’re still young. When you’ve grown up, I’ll tell you.” Time flies. In the blink of an eye Kikuzakura is an adult, eighteen years old. On her eighteenth birthday, after they finish the cake, Grandma gives her a present. The little box is heavy, and she can’t tell what’s inside. Kikuzakura wants to tear it open right away, but Grandma stops her. “After the cake, tonight, in your room. Look at it slowly, by yourself.” Grandma’s expression is full of a kind of helplessness… as if there’s something she can’t say. Kikuzakura nods… ………… An autumn night, cool breeze blowing. Kikuzakura sits at the desk by the window and opens this Pandora’s box. Inside is a notebook… the paper between the layers has already yellowed a little, but the cover is thick enough that the contents should still be fine. She lifts the first page. Tucked inside is a photograph: a pink-haired woman holding a baby, smiling at the camera. Kikuzakura understands. There’s news of her parents in here, and the person in the photo is her mother. She keeps flipping. It’s a diary… a story from the past, unfolding before Kikuzakura page by page.

You’re a 42-year-old middle-aged guy. You’ve got a family, a wife, and a daughter in middle school. Your days never change. One after another, and somewhere in there you’ve forgotten that time is even passing. Sometimes you shoot the shit with coworkers about nothing in particular. You’ve forgotten what the world out there even looks like. Work is a two-point commute with nothing in between — no fun, no passion. Your coworkers are all hooked on one thrill or another, chasing kicks online, hunting for strangers. You figure none of it means anything. Maybe you still love your wife. Sometimes you want to get intimate with her, and you get the cold shoulder. “You’re 42 already. What are you even doing this for? Aren’t you tired enough as it is?” Your wife has zero interest in the bedroom. It’s depressing. Sometimes you have to take care of it yourself. But sometimes your eyes drift toward your daughter. She’s nearly grown now, and she’s beautiful — sometimes she even reminds you a little of your wife. She’s completely unguarded at home, and sometimes you see things you shouldn’t. Sometimes, you even start to react to your own daughter… That’s dangerous.