You know who you shouldn't trust? Hotel cleaners. Not in real life, I should add - where they are hardworking and one time one helped me catch and kill cockroach even though we didn't speak the same language - but in the game This Bed We Made, a third person mystery set in a slightly grimy 1950s hotel. The reason why you shouldn't trust this particular cleaner because it is, in fact, you, in the kitten heels of Sophie here, as you rifle through their belongings and ogle at their undies. There's a demo of one such room on Steam now, and it plops you right in medias of some juicy res.
The guest in question has been taking photos of Sophie while she was snooping on other people's stuff, and has a whole big stalker wall map of the kind Charlie Kelly would be proud to have made. As a capsule, the demo gives you all you need to know about the This Bed We Made experience: Sophie has to, of course, clean, wiping down surfaces and making the bed (bothering to replace the pillows reveals a pulp lesbian romance called And They Were Roommates, which made me laugh). You can empty trash cans and ash trays, but you can also throw away... just... any of their stuff. Anything you like, really: shaving cream, cigarettes, and, crucially, the photos of Sophie up to what is, in the grand scheme of things, not really no good, but a fireable offence of trying someone else's perfume.
This is crucial, because people might notice what you've been up to, of course. In the course of investigating the stalker room, you have to find and dispose of all the photos and negatives - but the fairly obvious conclusion is that he will know that someone has been through his stuff if you do. You also call down to the front desk for help, and can choose which of your colleagues to speak to - and developing these relationships is another aspect of the game. I chose Beth, because she's street smart and fun, and not a rules-lawyer like Andrew.
All in all, this has the makings of a cool little capsule noir mystery, and I like that it's from the point of view of a hotel maid rather than a cool, suave, tough-talkin', hard-drinkin' private dick (do not recommend The Maid to me; I read it and didn't go for it). I'm up for opening a few more of those doors with my master key. This Bed We Made (oooh, two meanings, oooh) is out later this year, but check out the demo for some vaguely Hitchcockian vibes.