The opening credits promise a spoof on virtual reality, narrated by Lyons as a campy Max Headroom-like host (just plain Max Head, perhaps?), but once past the video effects it's really just an old-fashioned, delivery-men-on-the-job scenario. The cast is uniformly attractive, without a single buffed Hollywood-type among them; you could tell this was made in South-of-Market San Francisco even without the rooftop sex shots. Scenes are imaginative and well-constructed; a stand-out features sweaty McKalaster beating off on a car hood while Wilde lusts for him through the windshield.

There's an ambiance of authenticity here that viewers simply can't get from faux-gay performers or productions. This was made by a gay crew, with gay performers for gay viewers, which means, at a minimum, that the camera is always looking at the right thing at the right time. Sometimes silly, it's nonetheless an obvious labor of love with lots of nice little touches.