The Votes Are Skewing
I never really planned to leave the poll open that long to begin with.
I'd just been looking for something to fill the sudden free time, so I'd only meant to wait a minute or two.
Which meant I was a little worried. What if the votes spread evenly across all four genres? Some people would be happy, sure, but everyone who'd voted for something else would be disappointed. So yeah, part of me was already wondering if I should've even run a poll in the first place.
If there'd only been two options, picking one would leave at most half the people disappointed. But the more options you add, and the more evenly the viewers' votes get distributed—the more people end up unsatisfied no matter what you pick. Simple numbers game.
But surprisingly, the viewers' votes were all piling into one place. A full 90% had gone to horror games.
Not that it was completely incomprehensible. It was probably the genre where a streamer's reactions could get maximized the most. Even I, who'd never really watched internet streams, knew that among the funny clips my friends would send me, there were always streamers or little kids playing horror games and freaking out. And people make those scary hidden-camera pranks all the time, right?
Fear usually comes from the unknown. Sure, there's also the kind of instinctive dread that comes from something grotesque-looking, or from a danger your instincts are warning you about—but from a viewer's perspective, if it's a game they already know, they can sit there completely unscared and just enjoy the gamer's reactions.
In other words, the viewers wanted to watch me freak out. They wanted to mess with me. That was the idea.
And compared to the other games, it did have more competitive appeal. Looking at the chat alone, something like Heldenring or Palsa would take days of dedicated grinding. For someone like me whose main is League of Champions, they probably all figured it was too awkward for a stream unless I was going all-in.
The only things light enough to dabble in for a few minutes at a time were probably horror games and roguelikes. And between those two, the one they'd rather see me play was obviously horror. Roguelikes are more fun to play yourself than to watch someone else do it. Horror games, on the other hand—every time something jumps out, the streamer screams, and you get all tense at the moments that look like something's about to appear. There's a real viewing pleasure to it.
So maybe the votes skewing toward horror had been a foregone conclusion all along.
"Hmm, a horror game. Is this really okay?"
But the worry was real, so I muttered it out loud—and the chat immediately flooded with viewers ready to mess with me.
Well, fair enough. When someone gets scared in front of something frightening, the instinct to mess with them is pretty universal.
But this was a different kind of worry. Being scared was one thing—separately from that, I was worried about the stream.
"No, everyone. What I'm worried about isn't being scared. It's that me playing a horror game might not be very entertaining. I don't scream and make a big fuss when I see something scary—I just freeze up completely."
Meaning Jaemin must have said something like that on stream. Well, someone out there had probably put on that kind of bravado. Maybe they didn't want to look weak, or maybe they were deliberately handing out free material to get roasted with. Knowing Jaemin, it was probably the latter.
Anyway, even when I was a guy, watching a horror movie would freeze me solid—I'd stop breathing. And if someone jumped out going "boo!" just to scare me, I'd just lock up right where I stood. That was what I was worried about.
But then again, thinking about it, there was no reason to put that much pressure on myself. If it turned out boring, I could just go back to League of Champions. What I needed to focus on wasn't fretting over a future that hadn't happened yet—it was picking which horror game to play right now.
"Hmm, so what game should we do. Oh, there's a big sale going on—maybe I should pick from these."
And picking a game wasn't hard. Out of nearly a thousand viewers, the proportion actually chatting wasn't that high—but even so, with them tossing out suggestions one by one, the viable options narrowed down fast.
It had to be playable right now, so the file size couldn't be huge. It needed to be light enough to dip into while waiting for a League of Champions match, or during a penalty timeout like this. At the same time, something good to poke at occasionally—ideally a game that takes a while to fully clear. Or one with stages or sequels so you could keep enjoying it for a long time.
Putting the viewers' comments together, Hotel Escape checked all those boxes. Light to play, small file size so the download would be quick, and it was a series.
So without any further delay, I bought it and started the download. It was dirt cheap at only about a dollar—90% off, plus the viewers recommending it, so there was nothing left to hesitate over.
"Alright, then while this downloads, what kind of game is it……. Ah, wait—looking that up might spoil it or count as checking a guide. To give you all the best entertainment, I should just charge in knowing nothing, right?"
If I'd been playing alone, I would've killed time during the download by looking up trailers or something. But being on stream made that awkward. On the flip side, being on stream also meant I didn't need to watch any game intro videos. Just talking with the viewers made the time fly like this.
Plus, the file was under a gigabyte, so the download barely took any time at all.
"That was fast. By the time I clear this, the dodge penalty should be over. Nice."
I'd only thought of it as a light game because of the file size and the fact that it was a series—but the viewers' reactions were weird. Of all people, Kancho? I knew him as a pretty sharp, intellectual streamer. And even he took three hours?
Did I just pick the wrong game?
Pushing down a faint twinge of unease, I launched the game.
For something under a gigabyte, the graphics were surprisingly decent. Not truly photorealistic, of course—but it didn't feel like looking at clay models either.
The setting was a hotel corridor wallpapered in warm orange tones under soft, cozy lighting. Scattered along the hallway were side tables, potted plants, and classical masterpieces hanging on the walls. At the far end of the corridor, a fork in the path was visible.
"Hmm, something about this feels eerie. The atmosphere is peaceful, but it's like I'm right on the edge of the uncanny valley."
"Oh, there's a ghost story like that? First time hearing it, but maybe because you all explained it so well—I think I get the feeling. This hotel is so still and quiet that it's a little creepy too."
Just as the viewers said, the lighting was warm—but this vast hotel corridor had no sign of human presence, and the first-person perspective probably didn't help. There was definitely a strange, unsettling discomfort to it. Like the doors spaced along the walls might suddenly swing open and spit out a monster or a ghost. Or like the paintings hanging on the walls might twist into something terrifying.
I swallowed hard and slowly turned the mouse. The screen rotated with the movement. A game with mouse-look camera control would have keyboard movement too, of course—WASD for forward, back, left, and right. Being dropped here with no tutorial and no clues whatsoever was a little absurd, but the whole point of this game was to escape this place, so escape I must. Find an elevator, find a staircase—something.
Alright. Let's do this. If I poke around enough, there's bound to be a clue somewhere. I hadn't played a ton of games, but even I had that much common sense.