Version 100 | Ntrd By Clumsiness Ongoing

Chris’s wife, Natasha, attempts to be a polite host. Her efforts constantly result in catastrophic trips, slips, and falls that inadvertently trigger highly explicit, accidental sexual encounters with Jeff.

Version 100 is ongoing because clumsiness is not a bug to be fixed. It is a feature of being embodied. Hands shake. Feet misjudge curbs. Elbows find the one breakable thing on a crowded counter. The "ongoing" is a promise—not of improvement, but of persistence. You will drop things again. You will trip again. You will send an entire bowl of soup into your own lap in a restaurant so quiet you can hear the chef cry.

NTR'd By Clumsiness is a 3D animated adult visual novel designed around a "what if" scenario involving an extremely clumsy guest.

The narrative is designed to show different perspectives, allowing players to understand the mindset of the characters, including Chris, Natasha, and Jeff, as the chaotic situations unfold. 4. Extensive CG Content ntrd by clumsiness ongoing version 100

Variant: Clumsiness-Induced, Version 100

If you're looking for something specific about the ending or a character, let me know and I can dive deeper into the story beats! NTR'd By Clumsiness on Steam

Unlike complex dating simulators with branching choices, NTR'd By Clumsiness functions primarily as a . Chris’s wife, Natasha, attempts to be a polite host

NTR'd By Clumsiness holds a generally positive reception on Steam, particularly among those who appreciate its unique, acquired taste of humor.

: Chris discusses Jeff's arrival and warns his wife about Jeff's notorious clumsiness.

He wanted to hug her. But he was afraid of what he might knock over. A lamp. A picture frame. Her heart. It is a feature of being embodied

What the 1.0.0 update adds compared to previous "Ongoing" versions (new scenes, polished UI, or ending branches).

Do not pity me. I am not clumsy. I am ntrd by clumsiness . It is a condition, yes. But it is also a covenant. A promise that no matter how many times I drop the ball, I will always, eventually, pick it up.

Then drop it again immediately because my fingers are slippery for no reason at all."

He didn’t need to look up. But he did. Above his head, shimmering in pale gold, was his Relationship Status Bar. Once, it had read: . Now, after ninety-nine previous versions of humiliating disaster, it read: