An obsession with hotels

 I really, really like hotels. There's nothing honestly special about hotels in and of themselves, they're very simply just places where money is exchanged for a place to sleep. For me, the endless intrigue about these places comes from the quiet and comfortable atmosphere they possess, like a bridge between worlds; a place to recuperate, organize your thoughts, a bastion to be anonymous in a location you don't call home. 

In 2008 I got given a crimson Nintendo DS lite for my birthday, a gift that's probably gotten thousands of cumulative hours of use right up to today (one of my big regrets is not bringing it to Japan with me). Along with this console came a special little palm-sized gadget you might be familiar with - an R4 card, able to download and store dozens of games and also probably not 100% lawful in Nintendo's eyes. I remember sitting down at the family PC with my dad as we booted up the program needed to transfer games and reveling in awe at just how many titles were spread over the pages of this vast catalogue. We explored and downloaded the usual titles; Animal Crossing, Rayman, Super Mario, Dogs & Cats...and one more game that I'm surprised either of us chose to select. This game is called Hotel Dusk: Room 215, and I can confidently say it is and will always be my favorite video game of all time. 

Something of an open-map visual novel, mystery thriller and puzzle game all in one, Hotel Dusk sees you take on the role of Kyle Hyde, an ex-NYC detective who quit the force after the death of his partner and now works as a jaded travelling salesman. The date is December 28th 1979, you're told to pick up a package from an old hotel in the California desert. Over the next ~12 hours, you discover that both this inconspicuous building and its guests harbor deep secrets that intertwine closely with your troubled past and link into a grand mystery. The plot of the game is terrifically engaging and curious, yet in addition the atmosphere and soundtrack create such an immersive experience that I find myself entirely lost in the world of the hotel every time I boot it up. Satoshi Okubo's quintessentially Japanese-style video game soundtrack, influenced by Jazz and easy listening truly makes me feel like I belong in this world. I hold it closely as one of the few pieces of media that is a deep comfort to me, and whenever I'm anxious or stressed out by life retreating to its dynamic ambience feels like a warm embrace. Playing this game religiously from a very young age no doubt cemented an obsession with hotels into my mind. 

Softly-lit carpeted corridors, a fresh room to yourself where nobody can intrude...a blend of nameless faces from all walks of life in one place for so many different reasons, congregating in the bar or restaurant at night. Hotels have always felt to me like a passing place between worlds, to relax in-between work or adventure. In video games one often finds checkpoints where your character might save their progress and rest a while, especially from danger or before an upcoming trial. These places feel safe and secure, and it's much the same feeling I associate with hotels. On a winter vacation to Hikone in Shiga, I stayed over at a business hotel in the town center where this feeling came to me very strongly. Outside the winter nights were long and bitterly cold and yet in this modest building I was overwhelmingly sheltered; monochrome beige walls and still-life paintings, quiet corridors and the serenity of having no obligations, with only the odd salaryman in his vintage suit passing in the elevator hall. I'll admit that I listened to the soundtrack of Hotel Dusk and envisioned myself, just for a moment, as a down-and-out salesman pondering an interlinked series of mysterious clues.