Notes
"Horror is always aware of its cause. Terror never is. That is precisely what makes terror terrifying"
- Christopher Isherwood
General point
exploring the concept of "moving on"? How staying in familiarity becomes worse and worse over time (weird details of TH pressuring more and more as they become more and more obvious), and the need to try new things (move into further levels), no matter how scary it can be? Basically the comfort of familiarity becoming worse and worse over time ("double checking" makes it apparent something is wrong = the presence gradually higher of anomalies), breaking you as you can't move on from the past.
Structure purpose
Not being able to replicate the past (context)
The Hotel created its own liminality by not being able to fully replace a good past. A good past wouldn't be liminal, since it would have a place with a sense and people there. As such, the lack of that makes it liminal and as such, increasingly dreadful over time.
The optimistic past is a lie. Memory makes it feel better, and when the Hotel tries to create liminality through memory (using liminal echo), it fucks up the blissful part of the past because it's a lie. (and that's why people should move on from the past)
Not heaven nor hell (nature)
The whole place is a purgatory of some sort. It's not heaven nor hell, it's an endless transition space (like how the past is basically a transition to your present, leading you to today), yet it expects you to stay forever. It tries to mimic the past and look homely but since it can't (kinda how you cannot exactly have bright memories of your past) it "fills" it with things that breaks its purpose. We therefore have a merging of:
- hellish elements (hell being liminal echo)
- with the paradise of a blissful and suposedly welcoming past.
It's filling that with
- out of place things
- furniture
- hallways leading to illogical places (NOT dead ends, but in place where it wouldn't go normally, like a kitchen door leading to a ballroom for example)
- Presence of nature (it's supposed to make things more homely, to have plants pots, fountains…), but here it's twisted into forests or oceans merged with the hotel
- nonsensical signs, paintings…
- Lack of parts
- the outside replaced by glitched windows
- thresholds (corridors, stairs, lifts…) leading to nowhere (walls/dead ends)
also anomalously clean
Looking at the threshold for too long (consequence)
Transition spaces aren't supposed to be looked at twice. A second look reveals the lack of sense, the liminality (and here, the anomalous). It makes the person realize there's a lack of sense in this past they would normally cherish (see "lack of context" as a follow-up)
Lack of context (consequence)
"Removing the context of the past" -> Liminal spaces are empty and devoid of purpose. They lack people and explanation of their existence, so this "lack", this reason to cling to the past, is gone. The place:
- Creates first a sense of familiarity which is good
- But then as the lack of sens becomes bigger and bigger (due to liminality, which itself is due to an imperfect replica of a comfy hotel), starts creating dread over time
Anemoia, then uncanny
Craving for a epoch you never lived through. Again, lie of the past that make itself look more welcoming than it really was. People wish they lived at this epoch, but as they live inside it, the level starts showing how bad it really is (again, the anomalies becoming more apparent). Kinda like how a time traveler wanting to live in the 30s would realize how shitty it would be (great depression and allat)
But as time goes by, the anemoia morphs into the uncanny: a comfy place becomes a terrifying place (as the anomalous, the out-of-place, becomes more and more apparent). Uncanny = "not of home". The place gradually morphs into an uncanny valley of architecture. It looks nostalgic, but in reality, it's deeply wrong (the hotel created this uncanny valley by mixing the hell with the heaven, creating purgatory, as explained in the purgatory section). The familiar becomes unfamiliar.
Beast purpose
Maybe the Beast can be the incarnation of that past who wishes to keep you here forever? Because the past is blissful and comforting, while the unknown is dangerous. So the Beast kills you so that you get a "nice stay" forever?
Beast is the hotel, and staff is basically the people who are staying in the past forever, willing to enhance it in a way. "making peace with the past"? Might bring a contradictory message if it's written as positive, so perhaps they shouldn't find peace in their new body/purpose (example: spokeslady).
Entities?
how do we incorporate entities (mainly the murder monsters) within this tho? idk, maybe the manifestation of an agressive past? A harsh "return to reality"? What about Samantha too?
Bases
The Originals
The originals could be severely "mutated" in a way, since they never moved on to the future, they always stayed in the past of the hotel. How does it work tho, since they saw the hotel shift, for the older ones? Or do I retcon them into people from the 30s?
Maybe they work with the Beast too? Or maybe the beast leaves them alone because they are sticking in the past (and therefore the hotel)? Should be shown as bad tho, maybe they lost their mind or something like this idk, like delusion maybe? Coping bc the world changed (maybe that's why they don't have many contacts with other factions, it's because they can't handle it)
Structure
Your first impression of the Terror Hotel will most likely be a comforting one. Elegant wallpaper, calming music fancy lights completing an overall comfy-looking environment… After wandering through an empty warehouse, two industrial complexes and a grey depressing office, seeing such a homely place definitely brings back good memories from our former homes.
And who can blame you? Compared to anywhere else so far, this Hotel does look like a good dimension to stay in forever, a lavish representation of the past far away from the harsh and unforgiving present of the Backrooms.
But do not be fooled. This place is not a hotel. It isn't a homely resting point. It's an architectural nightmare, a mimic trying to imitate a nostalgic place, yet failing to convince.
Don't believe me? Start looking around more as you keep wandering around. A door opening onto a wall. A set of stairs ending abruptly. A corridor going vertically. This entire place is without logic or purpose. As you continue your journey, examples like these will only keep on coming.
The furnishing is no different. You'll find windows displaying grey static, chairs and tables in the middle of hallways, candelabras fused into the ground, and many more oddities. Nothing is functional here, and nothing will grant you rest, because no matter how everything looks, all purpose has been removed from it, as if the Hotel based itself on a fading memory of a cozy past, unable to fully comprehend what it featured.
The ballrooms are empty, yet food is plentiful there. The bedrooms are furnished, yet always slightly dysfunctional. Even the hallways can make you walk for hours without granting you any destination.
As much as your mind will cling to the idea, this place isn't your home, nor can it ever be.
There is no comfort to be found inside the Terror Hotel.
Structure
At first glance, you might see the Terror Hotel just like it intended to look like; a homely world, devoid of danger, full of light, calm music, and relaxing indoor look. And who can blame you? It sure looks nice and fancy. The Industrial 3 are grim and grey, and even the Abandonned Office looks dull. Compared to what you've seen so far, the Terror Hotel looks safe and charming.
yet another caroussel yay (or not idk)! This block is a placeholder, expect something similar to L1. Include here the different type of structure (so that the caroussel serves as a "tour" of some sorts, a way to give expectations of what to find, even if no two places of the hotel are similar, like Duskmourn), but mix them with weirdness:
- corridors
- bedrooms
- ballroom
- restaurant
- other stuff probably
If we somehow can take some render comissions:
- Mix the artificial with the natural (see Duskmourn lands): trees, rivers, underwater sections, that kind of stuff. Make them PART of the hotel, not something that could have grown after it (for example, merge the trees with the furniture, make an entire corridor underwater…)
- Out of place furniture: similar to the manilla room, putting things out of place makes it feel even more liminal: beds on the roof, chairs and table in the middle of the corridor, windows displaying grey static…
something about the floor system too
Rooms
Room image
You will never find a good room to settle in here.
A low ceiling, the absence of a bed, light that never shut down… The bedrooms of the Terror Hotel are imperfect. Although supposed to be welcoming, they are unwilling to be anything more than a transition back to the corridors.
It's an endless search for a homely resting place that will never exist. Unless you can bear the discomfort they bring, you will never find rest inside any of them.
Beverly Room
This place is an eerie one. Calm music and chatter can be heard around without any discernable source, as if nonexistent guests were dancing together in another realm of existence. There might be multiple of these rooms, but the heavy ressemblance between each encounter lead me to believe it's the same place you can stumble into, whatever floor you're on.
There's an unfinished majong game on the table at the center. I don't know why it's here, or even why there's a singular table in the middle of such a big room for that matter. Either way, do not approach it. The closer you are, the more anxious you'll feel, as you traverse through spots where you could swear people are standing and moving. It's really not a good feeling to have your brain tell you you're walking through a crowd while your eyes see nothing.
If you still feel confident tough, remember this. Whatever it is, there's a reason the game has never been finished in nine decades.
But do not be fooled. As you start walking around, as the hours pass, you'll start seeing the cracks. A jazz song sounding creepier than the last, out-of-place furniture, hallways leading to unexpected areas, vertical corridors…
And the squid, the squid imagery: wallpaper, ornaments, candelabras, painting frames, wood engravements. At first they will be detail, but the more time you spend here, the more you'll see them, and the more their presence will obsess you. They're everywhere.
"lack of context" - discomfort coming from the lack of purpose. The use/reason of the things around are unknown, which brings discomfort and doubt over time (doubt: is the past (the hotel) really so homely and welcoming?)
The Hotel might try to look homely, but truth is that it doesn't understand what it truly means, whatever the reason is. It creates snapshots of a believable resting place, but gets their purpose and details wrong. And these details will pressurize you, taking a toll on your mental health.
It's hard for me to give you advice on how to avoid such feelings. Either you get used to the weirdness, to the pressure of the nonsensical homeliness, or you go mad trying to. If you're still a new wanderer —although that would surprise me seeing all you went through by now— remember this: This place is still the Backrooms. It's not Earth, nor does it act as such. This is your reality now. The absurdism is your normalcy. All of this, all the weird details that wouldn't make sense on Earth, they're the standard. Don't try to understand them, don't even pay attention to them. Just walk around, don't question anything, and hopefully you'll get used to not understanding the purpose of the things around you.
Phenomena
Of course, "not paying attention" is easier said than done. The Terror Hotel isn't unwelcoming solely because of its weird physical look. No, it also hosts many, many anomalous behaviors. The devil is in the detail, and like the Hotel architecture, you'll stubble across these phenomema as you walk around.
They're generally one-off, making it tough to find any sense of familarity within your venture. They will make you question your senses, or whether you're really alone or not. It really hits hard when you're not used to that kind of stuff. It plays on your inner fears, and create dread out of the unexpectable.
I listed four of the most "common" phenomena I have experienced below. Hopefully this can help you understand them better, or at least expect them better.
One-way Mirrors
PLACEHOLDER
Distant Chatter
PLACEHOLDER
Curious Paintings
PLACEHOLDER
Unreal Steps
sounds behind you, but nothing when you turn back
Anemoia
Either way, the only feeling you're garanteed to feel is
The Boiler Room
If you're even just a little familiar with the Terror Hotel, you might have realized I haven't talked about this part of the level yet. This wasn't by mistake. The Boiler Room isn't like any other area of the Hotel. It is the belly of the Beast, unfinished, but more dealy than anything else here.
Placeholder! Hopefully we can find an image or a render that works for: a boiler room with homely elementd within it (candelabras, pillars with wallpaper, furniture, but still a dusty and industrial place). It's a part of the level that is unfinished, the image should convey this vibe.
continue text here
Entities
Of course, the Terror Hotel has every monster you can imagine: Smilers, Arms, Skin-Stealers, Growlers, Nguithr'xurhs… They most likely entered this place through thresholds to other levels, and they proliferated out of control —even the Hotel's— over time.
But these aren't the real danger of the Terror Hotel. If you managed to go from 1 to here, it's likely you know how to deal with them at this point. No, the danger is the staff.
At its inception, the hotel only had one holder, the one we call the Beast. But truth is, the Beast IS the Hotel, just like the Hotel is the Beast. That's why I'm saying he's the real deal. He can see your every move, feel your fear and anxiety rise, preying on them.
Entrances and Exits
Entrances
Exits
Ironically, the most common exit is in the Boiler Room, leading to Level 6. I guess the Beast didn't manage to close off exits to this dangerous place. Or maybe its inherent link to Levels 4 and 6 makes them appear too fast for him to remove them. Who knows.
Either way, I wouldn't consider going there if I were you. Yes, it's part of the [ninth road?], so it's technically secure and marked out, but I speak from experience; this place might be devoid of entities, but do not underestimate the darkness.
