The player’s home and base of operations in the world of Santa Destroy is a first floor motel room, perpetually rented by the game’s slacker otaku protagonist, Travis Touchdown. Far from the dingy, cockroach-infested dump you’d expect, the room is clean and comfortable, cozy even. Although technically not private property in the traditional sense, the room is adorned from top to bottom with personal belongings – masks of Mexican wrestlers stretch across the walls in neat rows, anime memorabilia and figurines stand proud over every available inch of shelf space, and a well-stocked mini-fridge sits tucked in between a bedroom doorway and a human-sized mech statue.
There’s a kind of 90’s flavour to the whole place: an N64 sits on a nearby shelf, the bedroom phone is a chunky fax-cum-answering-machine model and Travis watches wrestling matches, anime and porn (only ever referred to off-screen, your prudish eyes will be glad to read) on rented VHS tapes through an old CRT television. Presumably to help stave off the loneliness of living alone, Travis keeps a small cat named Jeane in his room, whom the player can pet, feed and play with. Occasionally she can be found in the bedroom, swinging off the ceiling fan. The bedroom features a map of Santa Destroy, a wardrobe filled with trendy clothes (all denim jeans, hip t-shirts and leather jackets), and a double bed which stores all of the player’s various beam katana variants in a small drawer. The bathroom is decorated with a potted plant, a poster and is brightly lit, clean, and well-stocked with plenty of toilet paper (mankind’s most precious commodity). All the while, the relaxed hum of bass and synth follows Travis from room to room.
Humble this abode may be, it’s nevertheless a true home.