We’re being forced to return to where we came from.
Home. Home is where the heart is. Or, failing that, the car. And the wardrobe. And the random pieces of crap you’ve collected on your travels. I could quite easily be describing life itself, but I’m actually describing the world of video games where you own a safehouse or some kind of base. Sometimes, several.
I have mixed feelings about homes in games. It does sometimes satisfy the nesting instinct to return home and put a load of things away in drawers. Working up to buying a house or several houses quickly becomes the aim of many a game which is supposed to be about stealing cars or fighting dragons. But, such homes usually create the necessity to return periodically; to drop off, to pick up, to heal, to organise, to faff about.