Slave Pageant

At a Glance:Slave Pageant is a completely generic hentai game about a a school where young women go to become sex slaves. You play as blah blah some student who has sex with all of them and...yawn. It's a snoozer. If you've seen any of the rape-heavy harem games you've pretty much already played Slave Pageant. In fact, hentai games are so repetitive that I would like to try something different here. I am going to be writing this entire review as a series of poems. Love it or hate it, at least you won't be able to accuse this review of being exactly like the other ones, which makes me better by default than everyone involved in the making of Slave Pageant. Language: Japanese chirping and moaning. Sexual Content: A taco bleeds tonight. Available From: J-List!

The Concept of the Game

Sumi, Shinju, Sorami, Ryoko,
Your eyes are wide like fathomless pits,
Your chins are sharp like knives,
Your mouths are small as fingernails,
And your busts all start with fives.

I met you in this awful game,
Of pageants slave and play so lame,
Where options are few and far between,
And your thighs are lathered with my cream,
This is a nightmare not some happier dream,
Of ghostly cocks like phantom spears,
Bleeding wombs and rape-fueled tears.

Sumi with her hair so red,
Prim and coy and carefully fed,
On a diet of magical beans and unicorn dust,
That shrank your waist and enlarged your bust,
To terrible sizes beyond human kind,
But what of your lantern eyes that jar the mind?

I gazed into them and something gazed back,
Then I plunged my junk into your crack,
And painted your bowels with reckless abandon,
One more careful comment and I can then,
Assail your peaks and plumb your mouth,
Explore your compass with I at north and Ryoko at south,

You will cry,
And you will complain,
And you will suffer scars that will remain,
But in the end you'll see through my cruel actions,
My hateful words without retractions,
And meet me on the top of the roof,
To offer love and physical proof,
That slaves can succumb to love's cruel talon,
And human semen can be excreted by the gallon.

To play through again was a thankless task,
And no more can I wear this stoic mask,
I broke down and wailed at the thought of "New,"
My agony multiplied again when I saw you:
Sorami,
like Salami only twice as deadly,
Sorry,
I had played again instead of ending the,
Suffering I call my life,
In which I try to make Sorami my wife.

Sorami with her hair so blue,
A dagger chin and a virgin too,
Hurrah I cry as I storm your keep,
And despite my joy all you do is weep,
But then again I do as well,
When I join you in this endless hell,
Of squirting blood upon my couch,
Pissing pants, and crying "ouch"

I'm going to fill your ass with beads,
And I won't worry about your needs,
Like bathroom breaks or foreplay,
Or trifling things like a clear airway,
I'll just unload like a container vessel,
And make you understand that this mess will,
Never cease or never pause,
Even after your icy demeanor thaws.

Now I am your husband,
And you are my slave,
And you will give blowjobs,
Until the grave,
And then I will move along,
To fill Ryoko with my dong,
Or plunder the cove of haughty Shinju,
Because random clicking was all it took to win you.

I don't love you or hate you,
I just don't care,
Stop crying baby,
And lose that stare.
You're a freak of nature like all the rest,
Good Christ look at the pumpkins on your chest,
It's like a bizarre accident with cannonballs,
And I just can't take any more comical falls,
Where my dick ends up in your baby-sized maw,
And I ice your face and lotion your jaw.

I'd advise satisfaction with what you've got,
Though my semen is endless my patience is not.
So no more play-throughs,
No more visits,
No more extras,
Or graphic exhibits.
It's over ladies,
I'm wrapping up this mess,
Don't call, don't write, don't pony express.

Difficulty of My Black Despair

Sorrowful wails and gnashing teeth,
Cannot in full express my grief,
At not the hardness of the game alone,
But also monotony's wearied groan.

Decisions simple with sullen mask,
Vile reading become a ceaseless task,
To sink in teeth and worry flesh,
Each sordid word and suffering enmesh,
To form a whole-made form of pain,
and send my longing for poison's naught again.

Unearthly vigor born of hell,
To see the bonus and not hear death's knell.
Eulogies written in widow's pen,
For the lost souls of a million men,
Who tried and died to play this game,
And now know only the grave's cold flame.

The Moment That Defines a Young Girl's Life

Quivering
     Thighs parted without consent
          Splayed out, a butterfly in his collection
Hot
     Flesh pressed against mine
          The hardness of man's cruel bludgeon
Crying
     Help unfound, screams unanswered
          Alone and burdened with this terrible moment
Crushed
     Beneath him on the couch
          The stink of man and the heat of rage
Violated
     My one and only armistice of womanhood
          Renounced and discarded
Bleeding
     Warm and crimson and horrible
          A shameful red badge stolen
Enjoyment
     Pleasure insinuated against my will
          My cry of fear becomes one of pleasure
Triumphant
     And destroyed at once
          By soul-deep injury and traitor ecstasy
Raped.
     You cannot take it back
          We are linked forever by this moment

The Final Thoughts

Was my life folly?
Was it waste?
Did I drop the ball in my reckless haste?

I wrote a hentai game review,
As a series of terrible poems,
Where a rhyming stanza might be so bad,
As "the plural of jeroboam is jeroboams."

Still I harbor a thought,
That maybe t'was not,
A folly after all.

Every hentai game,
Is nearly the same,
Such that my aim,
Was to defy that claim,
With a review that was not similarly to blame.

Slave Pageant was bad,
The graphics were worse,
The game's monotony,
Made me long for a hearse,
To cart me to a quiet place free,
Of bleeding crotches and cartoon pee.

A land of proportionate girls,
Who I don't have to violently rape,
split in twain with spectral member,
Or see their innards through the gape.

A land without screams or tears,
Of giant-eyed girls of thirteen years,
No breasts to be seen before my face,
That beg the quip "that's no moon,"
When I exit from hyperspace.

Farewell to thee for I depart,
Valhalla beckons and I've done my part,
To forewarn you of Japan's ill-intent,
Ah, sweet Reaper, you are heaven-sent.

Each category in the rating system is based out of a possible -10 score (-10 being the worst). The overall score is based out of a possible -50 score (-50 being the worst).

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– Zack "Geist Editor" Parsons (@sexyfacts4u)