Have you got a daughter? Well, whatever. Your on-screen alter ego in this game is not the kind of bloke you'd want any female acquaintance (relative or not) bringing home with a bulge in her stomach and a Mothercare catalogue. He's the bloke with mirrored shoes who stands in queues, who styles his hair like David Hasselhoff and guns the engine of his pimped out Suzuki Jimny at the gates of the sixth-form college. He's a disgrace, and he's yours to run amok with. Your mission is to lie, cheat, manipulate and sleep your way to the top of Apple City society. On the way, you're actively encouraged to start fights, mock the afflicted, piss in public and generally behave obnoxiously. Brilliant? Not so much.
Sex In The City
Social climbing is done through a mission-based structure, where successful interaction with movers, shakers and "the ladies" opens up the next challenge. This is not just about doing the sex. Everyone has certain "sensitivities" which, to begin with, remain unknown. The way to make progress is through asking questions and making conversational forays using the on-screen choices. True, doing the sex is often the natural result of this, but that's just a part of building your rep as an Apple City hotshot. Still sounds good, doesn't it? Here's what went wrong...
Everything. Take the main crux of the game, for example: interaction. Other than during cut-scenes, characters don't utter words as such, but speak a sort of gibberish that works as follows. You choose what to say from the list of choices and what your blokey on-screen does is lean forward and say, "Smurgle targen wag schmar gurdy", or nonsense to that effect. Similar noises account for her response and, during the exchange, both parties twitch around looking more like halibut trying to sit on a stool than people having a conversation. In fairness, there's a lot of interaction and to incorporate real speech would probably be tricky indeed. And besides, a general idea of a person's response is provided in caption form. So we could probably forgive this were it 7 Sins' only problem. It is, however, not.
There's no humour. None. 7 Sins is supposed to be an exercise in unbridled smut, filth and depravity. You'd think the developer would have to work hard for it not to be funny. And yet, of the things you can say to other characters, the vast majority are shockingly boring, and especially tedious given that every single time you speak to another character to try and get them closer to the bedroom, the game insists on briefly loading. No real words are used! What on Earth is it loading? But more on that later.
You have three meters that monitor your emotions. When these start to fill up, your character is getting tense. This is relieved by committing a sin such as copping a feel, hitting someone or - oh yes! - taking a slash somewhere entirely inappropriate. If a meter overloads, the mission is over and you have to start again - good idea. Problem is, this requires much more loading: round and round the disc spins as the little blue loading line inches its way across the screen like a wet fuse-wire on the world's least impressive bomb. Consider that some missions might need to be restarted within seconds, and you get the idea. Tedious? Yeah, a little.
Naked Ambition
7 Sins would still be salvageable, if only as an erotic curiosity, if its graphics were rendered in hyper-detailed, technology-stretching sexyvision. But, you've seen the shots. Environments are sparse, draw distances poor and unclothed, the ladies (and, ahem, men) look like someone's been at the original Lara Croft with a potato peeler. The clothing (okay, underwear) looks like strips of papier mache - which manages to make even the most scantily clad character seem completely sexless. As a means of arousal, it's about as effective as bashing away at your old chap with a mallet. And since being a source of titillation is the selling point, what's left? A stern warning to avoid it, that's what.