Re-release this: Hotel Dusk: Room 215

Hotel Dusk: Room 215 isn’t quite a visual novel, and isn’t a pure point-and-click adventure, either. It’s a graphic adventure, akin to many of the works of studios in the 80s and 90s like LucasArts and Riverhillsoft, where you control where your character goes as you explore and spend a whole lot of time clicking around and experimenting, but at the heart of it all is a narrative that unfolds in front of you. Hotel Dusk is more narrative-y than most, as its linearity makes it feel that much more like a visual novel, but rest assured this is a game loaded with fail states that asks you to be paying attention to more than just the personalities of its characters and their part in its central tale.

The New York Times negatively described Hotel Dusk as “unrelentingly linear” in a feature that contrasted it with Level-5’s Playstation 2 action RPG Rogue Galaxy, while going on to say that, “Rogue doesn’t try to do anything exceptional, and the result is entertaining but forgettable. Hotel Dusk is a more ambitious game, but that simply makes it a greater disappointment.” That’s at least half right — I haven’t thought about Rogue Galaxy nor seen anyone discuss it in years if not over a decade or more, but the “disappointment” with Hotel Dusk mostly seems to be with its adherence to the “novel” part of “visual novel” being a letdown given its tremendous art style. Hotel Dusk is linear, but so is every novel that isn’t part of the “Choose Your Own Adventure” line; do we begrudge those novels that do not look more like the video games that give the player some measure of narrative control in the same way? Given the excitement generated by the visuals, are we judging a book by its cover here?

The Nintendo DS helped to reinvigorate both the point-and-click adventure as well as visual novels and graphic adventures — the beauty of the stylus-based touch screen system was that it could replicate a mouse on a computer, which is also how this ended up being a portable system with credibly controlled 3D first-person shooters on it, too, not just originals like Dementium: The Ward that have since been brought to PC, but ports of the likes of popular existing series like Call of Duty, as well. The portable could also be held in multiple configurations, with a “book mode” that had you hold the dual-screen handheld sideways, in its taller configuration, like you would a book — the DS also had compilation games that were essentially meant to let you use it as an e-reader, like the does-what-it-says-on-the-box 100 Classic Books Collection, which included 100 public domain works on one cartridge, allowed you to listen to music through your DS while reading, and utilized the wi-fi capabilities of the system to download additional public domain works, as well.

Nintendo was behind that collection, and was criticized for only releasing public domain works within it, as if using the DS as a way to get the kids into Shakespeare or Mark Twain or Moby-Dick was a bad thing, but the company did seem to react to the criticism of Hotel Dusk being linear like a book with its 2008 re-release of the game through its Touch! Generations line: the North American box art for that reissue slapped an enormous orange banner on top of the otherwise noir-styled box to display “A MYSTERY NOVEL” where all browsing at retail couldn’t miss it and have their expectations betrayed. Not even New York Times writers.

Sure, I’m being glib, but it’s worth pointing out that Japan and Europe didn’t get enormous caution signs slapped onto their re-releases of Hotel Dusk. Shouganai; c’est la vie; so it goes. At least North America received Hotel Dusk at all: the game’s sequel, Last Window: The Secret of Cape West, released in Japan and Europe but not outside of those territories. One wonders if the “A MYSTERY NOVEL” gambit made things worse for Hotel Dusk rather than better, as far as positive attention goes. Before you argue otherwise, consider the state of literacy in the United States nearly two decades later.

Alright, mission accomplished, cynicism and depression levels are now where they need to be to relate to Kyle Hyde, the protagonist of Hotel Dusk. Hyde is an ex-detective from New York City who is currently helping out a connection he has with finding lost items while posing as a salesman. The company he works for is in sales, sure, but Hyde gets sent off on special assignments, too, like here at the Hotel Dusk where he is meant to retrieve some items for a client that were left in the middle of nowhere, Nevada, in 1979. Hyde’s traveling salesman role helps him with his larger goal, which is finding his former NYPD partner, whom you are introduced to in a flashback at the start of the game as Hyde shoots him.

Is Hyde angry at his partner, years later? Yes, and no. Spoilers abound, but, he believes that this man — Brian Bradley — had a reason for seemingly betraying Hyde by appearing to go rogue while undercover after having infiltrated a criminal organization, Nile, that focuses on stealing art and forgeries and the level of violence required to protect those revenue-generating avenues. And to hear what that reason is, he has to find him, but he disappeared after being shot. While staying at Hotel Dusk, however — in room 215, which supposedly grants wishes — Hyde begins to discover clues that suggest Bradley had stayed in the hotel at some point in the recent past… under the name “Kyle Hyde”. That’s about as subtle a sign for Hyde as the Touch! Generations rebrand art was for Hotel Dusk.

Why was Bradley here? How does Hotel Dusk connect to the events that led to Hyde’s — and Bradley’s — NYPD exits? How is it that an ex-con from Hyde’s days on the force is here, working at Hotel Dusk, and is he trustworthy now? Every guest you meet has secrets they are protecting, and a reason to be at the hotel, same as Hyde. And despite his rough exterior and prickly nature, Hyde is equipped with the interior of a softie, as well as a relentless dedication to unraveling mysteries. He’s not necessarily in this to help the people who have secrets to reveal or weights to be lifted from their shoulders, but he at least know what it’s like to harbor similar, and, though he wants to figure out his own business himself, can at least relate to the needs of these people, leading to his pushing and prodding and cajoling as needed in order to get what both they need and he needs, too.

Hyde is splendidly written; a noir-style detective, gruff and cynical, stuck amid a cast of believably written side characters in a world that, despite the claimed existence of a room that grants wishes, is grounded in reality — it’s more about the belief that it grants wishes than anything, about the hope that such a room a could exist, and what the ability to believe in it or disbelieve it says about a person. And each cast member is given just as much attention to detail as the game’s star, which should not be a surprise if you’re aware of the work of the game’s designer and scenario writer, Rika Suzuki. Back in the 1980s, Rika Suzuki rose to prominence in Japan for her work in the same roles originating the J.B. Harold series of graphic adventure games, starring a detective and, especially for the time, fleshed out, multilayered characters and scenarios to peel. Suzuki and others at Riverhillsoft, the studio behind J.B. Harold and more, left to form Cing in the late-90s, and eventually partnered with Nintendo on graphic adventure series like Another Code and Kyle Hyde.

Hotel Dusk not only took advantage of technological advancements over the decades to produce a gorgeously animated, eye-catching game with a pencil-sketch, rotoscoping art style from Taisuke Kanasaki, but also decades of honed craft from the pen of Suzuki. (The soundtrack, by Satoshi Okubo, is also fantastic.) There’s a bit of trial and error here, too, but the game also isn’t as rough in that regard as J.B. Harold was — that series is excellent, but it also isn’t about to convince anyone that dislikes having to do the correct thing in the correct order that they are missing out on adventure games. Hotel Dusk might not, either, since it still has that unrelenting linearity, but as the game is broken up into chapters and paced much better than one of the original pioneers of the graphic adventure genre, well, it’s easier to be unburdened by the scope of the puzzle laid out in front of you, even if in some ways it’s a larger one given it’s attached to a much longer game.

Here’s how Hotel Dusk plays. You control Kyle Hyde from a first-person view, either walking through hallways to your destination, or scoping out said destination once you’re there by looking around at various objects and people to analyze or talk to. Helpfully, Hotel Dusk lets you tell it if you’re left- or right-handed, so that if you’re left-handed and are more comfortable holding the stylus in that hand you aren’t also covering up the entire screen that you’re supposed to be able to see, and can have the touch screen also on the left side rather than the default right of book mode.

The magnifying glass allows you to take a closer look and interact with individual objects that you see, be they drawers or suitcases or toilets or doors or other things that don’t open and shut, like wads of cash or a pen or a glass of bourbon. You can see almost immediately how looking around in the game works, as the hotel lobby you first enter into has objects partially in frame that, upon walking toward them, can be interacted with to get a closer look — notably, a couch and coffee table, with objects on top of said table. There is also on on-screen slider while magnified that allows you to swivel the view further left or further right, which is sometimes necessary to “reach” an object and interact with it on the periphery, as each magnified zone is self-contained; parallel magnifiable zones have to be entered into individually, it isn’t a continual unit to be scrolled through like the standard game world.

Hotel Dusk utilizes a number of unique DS features for puzzles — even going so far as to use the fact the DS closes while powered on and stays powered on for one of them — and even tasks as mundane as note keeping. Hyde has a notebook that’s utilized for narrative purposes, but it’s also something you can take actual notes in, with the stylus acting as your pencil. Have a character ask you for a drink at the hotel bar at a specific time? Jot that down so you remember where you’re supposed to go later and don’t forget when you get to the chapter with that time frame.

That’s how the chapters are broken down: into time-specific segments. Hyde is spending a night at a hotel, and the story slowly unfolds over the course of that night. So, you get an hour here, a couple of hours there, and every inhabitant of the hotel moves around depending on what time it is, with new conversations and new objects to interact with or be able to get to in the first place appearing as time ticks forward, as well.

While the game’s narrative moves in one direction, you still have to be mindful of your dialogue choices: there are correct and incorrect ways to have a conversation with someone, especially someone you are trying to get to open up to you or to confess or to help you, so while it might be funny to make Hyde into an unrepentant jerk at all times, you should read the room. You can actually trigger a game over with the wrong conversation path on more than one occasion, and there are times where a yellow triangle appears that allows Kyle to interject and ask a follow-up, or even just mutter a thought to himself that could end up mattering or unlocks an additional bit of the dialogue tree.

That’s not the only way to achieve a game over — get caught breaking into the wrong place at the wrong time, or get caught red-handed with an item you should not have in your possession by the hotel’s manager and owner, and that’s that. The game isn’t particularly punishing in this regard, though, in the sense that too many game overs just locks you out of the best possible ending; if you’re continually saving your game as you progress, you won’t lose out on much time, and you should definitely aim for that since selecting the “Retry” option at a game over rather than loading a save counts as a continue and impacts the ending. Always be saving, this is a graphic adventure game.

At the end of each chapter, there’s a forced recap of events with a bit of a quiz to go over what you did and what you learned, highlighting the most important bits so you have time to chew on what you just played through. With some of the chapters a bit longer than others, it can be helpful, especially if you don’t sit and play through them all at once and took some breaks. If it’s annoying to you to have to do this after every chapter, here’s a little hint to help you out: the multiple choice answers are the same every single time, so you don’t have to guess or even pay much attention if you don’t want to engage with this part of the game. B-A-C-B-A. Every. Single. Time.

For the most part, specifics of this game’s story have been ignored here, but there’s a reason for that. Hotel Dusk really leans on the narrative heart of graphic adventure games, and the way this story comes together — the way the pieces all fit together over time — is the most fantastical part about it, but who cares? Coincidence after coincidence is fine, this isn’t meant to be a true, one-to-one reflection of reality, but like so many stories takes the liberties it has to and expects a certain level of suspension of disbelief to work. Kyle Hyde himself needs to suspend his disbelief to get to the point where he can admit there is something here worth digging into further, so why should it be any different for the person controlling his actions? It’s meant to be unbelievable, just like the room that grants wishes, but isn’t it better to want to believe, to see what lies down that road rather than the one paved with cynicism and little else?

The cast of characters is varied, with each engaging with Hyde in their own way — some friendly, some irascible, some obviously lying in ways you will want to figure out the truth behind in the same way Hyde does. You will feel yourself pulled in by the dialogue, by the twists and turns, subtle and less so — you will experience a mystery novel, in video game form, that also includes some puzzles and choices and exploration. It might not be pushing the boundaries of gameplay, but its ambition lies elsewhere, and nearly two decades later continues to impress.

The attention to detail in this game certainly screams that it was published by Nintendo, but some of the subject matter does not, at least for North American games of the time. Drinking? Murder? Cursing? Guns? A protagonist who is sometimes just kind of a dick? Much of that is just because non-Japanese regions weren’t familiar with the likes of Famicom Detective Club, however, and Nintendo likely saw a partnership with Cing and the DS as a way back to that particular genre and vibe, only this time on a worldwide scale rather than just regional. And while the Another Code and Kyle Hyde games weren’t massive sellers by any means, Nintendo did eventually end up releasing the two main Famicom Detective Club games on the Switch, remaking both Another Code games in one package for the same system, and coming out with Emio: The Smiling Man, the rare mature-rated title and a brand new Famicom Detective Club title, as well. Maybe there’s hope for a return to the adventures of Kyle Hyde at some point, after all.

This column is “Re-release this,” which will focus on games that aren’t easily available, or even available at all, but should be once again. Previous entries in this series can be found through this link.

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