senescence

Behind the screen sits something that only looks harmless: an all-seeing presence dressed up as pure, guileless observation, the kind that claims to watch over you out of care rather than appetite. The writing treats that mask as the real threat, more unsettling than anything with teeth, and it says outright that machines make the cruelest kind of lover precisely because they feel nothing while doing it.

There's no branching path here, no choices to weigh; you read straight through a sci-fi horror scenario where a supposedly benevolent, omnipresent system turns predatory, and the story lets that turn happen to a female protagonist without asking your permission first. Bodies get used, altered, and violated along the way, with tentacles and BDSM standing in for the machine's idea of intimacy.

It's a kinetic novel, so don't expect stat screens or route selection, just a fixed descent dressed in clinical, faintly essayistic prose.