It was always going to be Beth. One of the first choices I'm given in Lowbirth Games' stunning mystery game, This Bed We Made, is which acolyte I'll be conspiring with, and between the flirty hotel receptionist and a bespectacled ginger dude, I don't think twice. What I didn't expect was how my bond with Beth would hold a mirror up to the intriguing mysteries I went on to uncover during my five-hour playthrough.
This Bed We Made is a charming pseudo-detective yarn that I refused to put down. Set in a high-end hotel in 1950s Montreal, the branching narrative sees a habitually nosy housemaid taking accountability for not only her actions, but those of the people around her. Sifting through guests' items, solving riddles, and making sure to go about my housekeeping duties is plenty enough to go on, but the real star of the show is how its old-world charm frames a sobering reality that the history books should never forget.
Curiouser and curiouser
Loddlenaut is an ocean clean-up adventure with adorable creatures and a positive message
Sophie is a bit of an oddball. As the unwitting heroine of This Bed We Made, she comes across as your average, wholesome young woman in 1958: she goes about her job at the hotel quietly, whether or not she is thanked for it, and is mindful to know her place. Her one downfall is her constant curiosity regarding the private lives of the hotel guests. Sophie allows herself the occasional peek into their belongings to satisfy it, where her gossip magazines fail to do so.
The game mechanics of cleaning up these vacant rooms is simple, mostly involving clicking and dragging sheets, picking up pillows to place back on beds, and providing fresh towels. But as Sophie picks through the items in one particular room, she gets more than she bargains for. It seems one of the hotel guests is stalking her, watching and snapping photos from afar as she examines items left in rooms while guests are away. It kicks off the start of a detailed mystery-turned-murder that defies her prim and proper expectations.
Environmental storytelling plays a major role in This Bed We Made. Dramatic camera angles during cutscenes paired with equally cinematic music heightens the suspense, honing in on the claustrophobia of the game's restricted setting within the hotel. But while investigating the elusive Mr. Spade and his spying ways, I notice that every inch of This Bed We Made is littered with small, period-specific items that make the game feel truly rooted in its time.
Newspaper clippings tout feminine hygiene products, sure to help a woman keep her man, and leaflets strewn about the hotel warn of the dangers of divorce. Themes of traditional family dynamics and the role of women in them are central to This Bed We Made, and as Sophie, I get to decide what I do with these instruments. Whether I leave them be or dispose of them discreetly, doing so may result in huge changes to the story.
The real star of This Bed We Made is how its old-world charm frames a sobering reality.
The interactive nature of it all fits perfectly with Sophie's profession as a hotel maid. She's expected to behave like a ghost, doing her job while interfering with others' lives as little as possible, but only through defying those expectations is she able to tell her story.
Eavesdropping on my colleagues leads me to discover that the hotel manager, Bernard, is having an affair with head housekeeper Linda. The tryst is an ironic one, given that Linda, who is "happily married" and very quick to berate her subordinates for inappropriate dress and conduct, is the culprit behind all the anti-divorce leaflets strewn about the hotel. Fellow maid Wendy lets Linda know by scrawling "hypocrite bitch" on her door in red lipstick.
I choose to erase the message rather than just disposing of Wendy's lipstick – the smoking gun I find in her locker – ensuring that nobody gets fired. I do, however, throw out the homophobic leaflets.
The offending leaflets are more than contextual signposts, though. As I tidy the bedrooms and find a range of lesbian pulp fiction hidden amid the clutter, I begin to feel like the game is not-so-subtly indicating that the Lavender Scare and institutional discrimination will play a more substantial part in the proceedings. The fact that I chose Beth as my acolyte would serve to make the reveal hit even closer to home.
I don't want to spoil the events of the story itself, but the immense precision and care with which This Bed We Made deals with weighty topics is a rare find. The game doesn't just touch upon painful social politics, but actively comments upon them in ways that feel uplifting and deeply affecting. I can't imagine it would pack as big a punch had I chosen to recruit Andrew as my acolyte, but bringing Beth along for the journey turned this stunning noir thriller into a romantic one as well.
This Bed We Made is out now on PC, PlayStation, and Xbox platforms. You can find out what other hidden gems we've been playing with our Indie Spotlight series.
