
aka Brad Stallion in Sex Olympics
If you ever wanted to see what happens when late-eighties sci-fi schlock collides with early mouse-driven puzzle design, Sex Olympics offers a baffling, neon-tinted window into the extreme outer fringes of MS-DOS software.
You play as Captain Brad Stallion, a galactic government operative piloting a ridiculously named starship called the Big Thruster. Your mission sounds simple enough on paper: travel across twelve distinct celestial bodies and seduce up to nine women faster than your rival, the villainous Dr. Dildo. Rather than relying on combat or arcade reflexes, progress hinges on collecting specific inventory items scattered across different worlds to charm local inhabitants before your rival beats you to it.
The tone leans heavily into tongue-in-cheek absurdity, though the humor rarely rises above middle-school locker room banter. On one frozen world, for instance, attempting intimacy with the Ice Princess will instantly freeze Brad to death unless you first acquire a specialized heating device known as the thermo schlong warmer. Thwarting Dr. Dildo often means snatching essential quest items right out from under his nose, turning every planet into a race to collect oddities before the computer opponent can trigger his own success flag.

As the fourth entry in the series developed by Free Spirit Software, this game marked a major mechanical shift for the studio. Previous installments like Sex Vixens from Space and Planet of Lust relied entirely on traditional typed text parsers. For this 1990 release, the developers abandoned the text line in favor of an icon-driven point-and-click verb bar. standard commands like take, drop, touch, look, talk, and go sit alongside adult options such as kiss, eat, screw, and jerk off.
In practice, many of these contextual commands are completely useless. The "jerk off" icon, as sharp-eyed adventure fans pointed out years later, serves zero purpose in solving any puzzle or advancing the storyline. The control scheme certainly makes moving around easier than wrestling with a text parser, but it cannot fix the fundamental core design of the adventure game underneath.
The development team also managed to deliver one of the most infamous copy protection blunders of the early nineties. Upon launching, the game frequently asks players to input a specific word from page six of the included printed manual. The catch? The physical manual bundled in the box was only four pages long. Unless you happened to know the bypass code or possessed a cracked executable, legitimate buyers were locked out by a manual check for a page that did not exist.

Even if you get past the manual check, the puzzle design will test your patience. Key items and clue locations are randomized across three selectable difficulty settings every time you launch a fresh campaign. While replayability sounds great on paper, in reality it means that puzzle solutions lack any coherent narrative logic. You end up pixel-hunting across low-resolution backgrounds, trying every item in your inventory on every interactive hot spot just to see what sticks.
When the game originally landed, contemporary magazines tore it to shreds. Scandinavian publication Datormagazin slapped the Amiga port with a dismal 21% score, noting that the visual presentation looked like something from 1982, while the audio output consisted of little more than hollow thumping noises and PC speaker plops. Later retrospective sites like Home of the Underdogs were equally unforgiving, pointing out the atrocious writing and cheap reliance on coarse themes to mask sub-par game mechanics. A few shareware aggregators like Games Coffer scored it higher at 76%, but mostly as a historical curiosity rather than a solid game.
Visually, the graphics consist of crude digitized pixel art that barely manages to convey what you are looking at. The MS-DOS game performance relies heavily on old system timings, meaning that saving your game under modern software setups can be notoriously finicky if your environment is not configured correctly.
As the final chapter in the Brad Stallion saga, this game sits right on the outer edge of nineties budget software experimentation. It is far from great, but for anyone curious about how developers tried to sell adult themes on floppy disk, it gives you a look at a weird corner of software history. The combination of erratic puzzle logic, primitive sound synthesis, and bizarre sci-fi tropes makes for a campaign you will not forget anytime soon.
You can play Sex Olympics free in your browser right now without downloading old files or wrestling with autoexec configuration files. Launching the game directly brings up the full icon interface immediately, allowing you to sample the low-fi sound effects and witness the bizarre planetary race firsthand with just a single click.
If you ever wanted to see what happens when late-eighties sci-fi schlock collides with early mouse-driven puzzle design, Sex Olympics offers a baffling, neon-tinted window into the extreme outer fringes of MS-DOS software.
You play as Captain Brad Stallion, a galactic government operative piloting a ridiculously named starship called the Big Thruster. Your mission sounds simple enough on paper: travel across twelve distinct celestial bodies and seduce up to nine women faster than your rival, the villainous Dr. Dildo. Rather than relying on combat or arcade reflexes, progress hinges on collecting specific inventory items scattered across different worlds to charm local inhabitants before your rival beats you to it.
The tone leans heavily into tongue-in-cheek absurdity, though the humor rarely rises above middle-school locker room banter. On one frozen world, for instance, attempting intimacy with the Ice Princess will instantly freeze Brad to death unless you first acquire a specialized heating device known as the thermo schlong warmer. Thwarting Dr. Dildo often means snatching essential quest items right out from under his nose, turning every planet into a race to collect oddities before the computer opponent can trigger his own success flag.

As the fourth entry in the series developed by Free Spirit Software, this game marked a major mechanical shift for the studio. Previous installments like Sex Vixens from Space and Planet of Lust relied entirely on traditional typed text parsers. For this 1990 release, the developers abandoned the text line in favor of an icon-driven point-and-click verb bar. standard commands like take, drop, touch, look, talk, and go sit alongside adult options such as kiss, eat, screw, and jerk off.
In practice, many of these contextual commands are completely useless. The "jerk off" icon, as sharp-eyed adventure fans pointed out years later, serves zero purpose in solving any puzzle or advancing the storyline. The control scheme certainly makes moving around easier than wrestling with a text parser, but it cannot fix the fundamental core design of the adventure game underneath.
The development team also managed to deliver one of the most infamous copy protection blunders of the early nineties. Upon launching, the game frequently asks players to input a specific word from page six of the included printed manual. The catch? The physical manual bundled in the box was only four pages long. Unless you happened to know the bypass code or possessed a cracked executable, legitimate buyers were locked out by a manual check for a page that did not exist.

Even if you get past the manual check, the puzzle design will test your patience. Key items and clue locations are randomized across three selectable difficulty settings every time you launch a fresh campaign. While replayability sounds great on paper, in reality it means that puzzle solutions lack any coherent narrative logic. You end up pixel-hunting across low-resolution backgrounds, trying every item in your inventory on every interactive hot spot just to see what sticks.
When the game originally landed, contemporary magazines tore it to shreds. Scandinavian publication Datormagazin slapped the Amiga port with a dismal 21% score, noting that the visual presentation looked like something from 1982, while the audio output consisted of little more than hollow thumping noises and PC speaker plops. Later retrospective sites like Home of the Underdogs were equally unforgiving, pointing out the atrocious writing and cheap reliance on coarse themes to mask sub-par game mechanics. A few shareware aggregators like Games Coffer scored it higher at 76%, but mostly as a historical curiosity rather than a solid game.
Visually, the graphics consist of crude digitized pixel art that barely manages to convey what you are looking at. The MS-DOS game performance relies heavily on old system timings, meaning that saving your game under modern software setups can be notoriously finicky if your environment is not configured correctly.
As the final chapter in the Brad Stallion saga, this game sits right on the outer edge of nineties budget software experimentation. It is far from great, but for anyone curious about how developers tried to sell adult themes on floppy disk, it gives you a look at a weird corner of software history. The combination of erratic puzzle logic, primitive sound synthesis, and bizarre sci-fi tropes makes for a campaign you will not forget anytime soon.
You can play Sex Olympics free in your browser right now without downloading old files or wrestling with autoexec configuration files. Launching the game directly brings up the full icon interface immediately, allowing you to sample the low-fi sound effects and witness the bizarre planetary race firsthand with just a single click.
How Sex Olympics is played — the keys the game listens to, grouped by what they do.
Highlighted keys are mapped — hover or tap one to see what it does.
The game relies primarily on a mouse-driven point-and-click icon interface. Typing 'vwv' reveals a cheat button.
The on-screen keyboard and gamepad mapping the browser player uses on a phone, a tablet or a controller, as opposed to the real keys above. $PRO members make their own in the player and share them here; anyone can pick one to play with.
Cheat codes, console commands and memory pokes for Sex Olympics — each one verified and attributed.
Sign in to submitHow Sex Olympics is played — the keys the game listens to, grouped by what they do.
Highlighted keys are mapped — hover or tap one to see what it does.
The game relies primarily on a mouse-driven point-and-click icon interface. Typing 'vwv' reveals a cheat button.
The on-screen keyboard and gamepad mapping the browser player uses on a phone, a tablet or a controller, as opposed to the real keys above. $PRO members make their own in the player and share them here; anyone can pick one to play with.
Cheat codes, console commands and memory pokes for Sex Olympics — each one verified and attributed.
Sign in to submit