I first fell into Cosmo D’s work through Betrayal at Club Low, which was one of my favourite titles of 2022. After playing it, I immediately dove into the developer’s back catalogue, but 2022 was a real long time ago, and I don’t remember if I played them in order at that point. I would assume so because that’s exactly what I’m doing after tasting Moves of the Diamond Hand. It’s just sort of my M.O.

Cosmo D’s second(ish) game, The Norwood Suite, is where things start getting interesting. Okay, Off-Peak is interesting, too, but, like, it’s mostly a museum of modern art. That’s cool, but The Norwood Suite is where Cosmo D started flexing his game design chops. It’s still mostly a walking sim, but there’s more of an adventure game element to it, and it does a better job at telling a complete narrative and giving you minor tasks and puzzles to do.

One of the things about Cosmo D’s games that I really appreciate is that you can see him honing his craft. Each game is better than the last. But moreover, each one has its own identity and contains new ideas, even if there is some thematic crossover. It’s a series that’s very much worth experiencing in totality. I’m happy to be here sharing it with you.

TURN IT OFF AND BACK ON AGAIN

The Norwood Suite begins like many of the games in the Off-Peak series. You find yourself being given a rather non-specific mission. Your role isn’t well-defined. A shady lady just drops you off on the road, gives you a voucher, and tells you to go check in at Hotel Norwood.

What follows unravels rather organically. You might talk to some folks in the parking lot, or maybe you’ll just do what you’re told and head to the front desk. Before you can check in, one of your first goals is to use the computer to validate your voucher, which requires you to plug a computer in and then reboot the wireless router. Incredible.

Even after getting a room, your goal isn’t entirely clear. In fact, it’s difficult to avoid getting distracted by the weird faces you’ll see around the hotel. There’s a lot going on. The Hotel previously belonged to its namesake eccentric music composer. As a business, it has been kept afloat by a DJ who throws marathon parties in the basement. An organization called Modulo is looking to buy out the hotel, with the deciding vote to be held the day after you arrive. Folks, especially employees concerned about their jobs, are nervous about the outcome.

It’s a lot, and it sort of becomes a blur. And that fits. The atmosphere in The Norwood Suite feels a lot like walking into a hotel late at night, bleary-eyed and hungry for rest. You can practically smell the carpet shampoo, the musty books in the library, and the chlorine of the pool room. Lights bloom out, colours bleed, and its abstract floor plan keeps you tasting the delirium. Taste it!

GAS UP THE SLICE-O-MATIC

Much of The Norwood Suite involves helping the people who clutter the hallways, but as tempting as it is to call it a joy-maker, you’re not always solving their problems. I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be a running joke, but a lot of “quests” end with the person in question asking you to go get something for them. However, when you reach their desired item, you often find that it’s not interactive. Instead, you just grab the main quest MacGuffin. The person later shows up in a different spot, their own sub-plot having advanced. Usually, they’ve moved on from whatever they asked you to do and are focused on different problems now.

The main quest MacGuffins in question are pieces to a costume that you need to get into the party in the basement. You assemble them together in the titular hotel room. Along the way, you’ll likely discover “tableaus” that illustrate the life of the mysterious Norwood, but they’re provided in rather cryptic ways.

I think if I was more of a music person, I’d understand the deeper themes of The Norwood Suite better. I listen to music, I’ve dabbled in composing, I even play guitar, but I’ve never had much interest in taking it seriously. I don’t even daydream about gyrating rhythmically in front of a packed stadium anymore; it’s just not my scene. But a lot of the narrative is rooted in that sort of thing (except maybe the gyrations), and I think some of it goes over my head.

That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy it from a narrative point of view, and I’m also not insinuating that the whole thing is beyond me. I just can tell there’s stuff there that I can’t grok. A lot of stuff in Cosmo D’s suggests he’s way more sophisticated than I am, and that’s maybe part of the charm. Not in a way that seems arrogant; he’s not pushing philosophy. It just feels like there’s more academia behind everything. There’s a lot of humour overlaying all of it, so it’s not something to worry about. And besides, immersing myself in someone else’s imagination wouldn’t be as captivating if it matched my perspective.

PARTY IN ROOM 211

Overall, it’s still an art gallery tour, but it’s a really great art gallery tour. It’s bulging at the seams from all the stuff to just look at. The margins are crammed with small details. I took dozens of screenshots of carefully set scenes, paintings on the walls, book covers, bookshelves, and interesting dialogue. If you need more proof that challenge isn’t everything when it comes to video games, then I have some recommendations for you, but you can start with The Norwood Suite.

As much as Cosmo D’s next games continue to improve and push more towards balancing narrative, gameplay, and aesthetic, The Norwood Suite has a lot going for it. It’s my comfort place. It rattles with exhausted energy. It makes you feel like part of a moment, rather than a character in a story. Despite all the surreal absurdities, it’s a believable place full of believable weirdos. That’s impressive, and it’s worth checking into.

7/10

This review was conducted using a Steam version of the game. It was paid for by the author.