OBSIDIAN HILLS

Built in 1987 as the park's premier accommodation, this three-story Victorian hotel featured 24 themed rooms - each decorated to represent a different character from Obsidian Hills' history. The "Silver Baron Suite" had imported European furniture, while the "Prospector's Room" featured authentic mining equipment as decor.

Renovated in 2017 as a boutique hotel adding spa services and wine bar in the lobby, desperately trying to attract Vegas weekend tourists. Now houses 45 long-term residents with families occupying the larger suites. The wine bar stocks medical supplies, the spa is a communal bathroom.

The original 1881 hotel above the saloon, with 12 rooms that housed miners, gamblers, and traveling salesmen. Each room has original brass bed frames and washstands. Room #7 still has a bullet hole in the wall from an 1885 dispute, proudly displayed behind plexiglass since 1987.

During park operations, these were functional hotel rooms at $180/night for the "authentic frontier experience" - chamber pots included (but not required). Now used for new arrivals' mandatory 72-hour quarantine before housing assignment. The bullet hole is no longer the most interesting damage.

Throughout the park, original 1880s living quarters were meticulously preserved as museum displays. Mannequins in period dress, velvet ropes, interpretive plaques explaining "Life on the Frontier." The merchant's family apartment above the general store featured a Victorian Christmas scene year-round. The sheriff's quarters had a mannequin wife perpetually making cornbread.

After 30+ years behind "Please Do Not Touch" signs, these spaces are lived in again. Mannequins thrown in storage, velvet ropes used as actual rope. The banker sleeps in his predecessor's bed. The doctor lives where a wax figure once demonstrated "frontier medicine." The fake cornbread was replaced with real survival rations.

Six original 1880s miners' cabins in various states of restoration. Three were fully restored in 1987 with period furnishings for tours. Two were partially restored in 2003 for "rustic overnight experiences" at $250/night. One remained deliberately unrestored as the "authentic ruins experience" with Instagram-worthy decay.

The Instagram ruins are now someone's actual home - they've patched the roof with salvaged materials. The $250/night "rustic experiences" feel less quaint when it's permanent. All six are occupied, housing about 18 people who've formed their own small neighborhood called "Miners' Row."

Built in 1987 as "Cookie's Chuckwagon Grub House" - complete with mechanical bull and all-you-can-eat beans for $9.95. The barn-style structure hid modern commercial kitchen equipment behind swinging saloon doors. By 2010, the mechanical bull was gone and attempts at "elevated Western cuisine" weren't working.

Rebranded in 2014 as "Grassroots Community Kitchen" with exposed beams, mason jar lighting, and a $28 "heritage grain bowl." The wood-fired ovens installed for artisanal pizzas now bake survival bread. The craft beer taps are drained. Everyone eats here three times daily - no heritage grain bowls, no choices, but everyone eats.

Original 1882 general store with 48-cubby postal sorting desk, hand-pump well that still works, and a root cellar that maintains 55°F year-round. The massive iron safe behind the counter held payroll for 200 miners. The upstairs merchant quarters showcase an 1880s Victorian Christmas scene that hasn't changed since 1987.

In 2019, became "Provisions & Dry Goods" artisanal market selling $18 bags of "frontier trail mix" and $45 hand-poured candles. Now it's returned to actual necessity - distributing rations, managing inventory on the same ledgers the park sold as souvenirs. The root cellar stores medicines. The iron safe holds ammunition. The Christmas scene is still up.

Created in 2008 to demonstrate "what pioneers ate" with heirloom varieties and desert-adapted crops. Interpretive signs explained Three Sisters planting. A medicinal herb spiral showed "Dr. Hammond's Frontier Remedies." School groups would grind corn with authentic stones for exactly three minutes before getting bored.

Expanded in 2014 to supply the restaurant's farm-to-table menu. The heirloom seeds collected for historical accuracy - Cherokee Purple tomatoes, Glass Gem corn - proved invaluable. These varieties grow without modern fertilizers. The medicinal garden isn't quaint anymore. The interpretive signs are used as plant stakes.

The original 1879 silver mine with shafts descending 150 feet. The restored cage elevator creaks but functions. Mining equipment from the 1880s through 1930s shows the evolution of extraction technology. The temperature stays at exactly 55°F at the first level, dropping to 48°F deeper down. Tour groups only saw the first 50 feet.

LED lights installed in 2005 for "enhanced safety" still work on battery backup. The constant temperature now preserves food and medicine without power. Deeper tunnels, never part of tours, store emergency supplies and serve as last-resort shelter. The "DANGER - DO NOT ENTER" signs from the park are still accurate.

Opened 2016 in a renovated 1890s warehouse, part of the park's desperate pivot to attract millennials. Copper brewing kettles visible through Edison bulb-lit windows. Six signature beers with names like "Prospector's IPA" and "Silver Rush Stout." The tasting room had reclaimed wood everything and a $14 pretzel.

The copper kettles still work, barely. Limited production continues using salvaged grains and desert plants - prickly pear wine, mesquite beer. Alcohol serves as medicine, antiseptic, and morale booster. The fermentation knowledge proves more valuable than the equipment. The $14 pretzel seems absurd now.

Built 1880 with heavy timber and iron-reinforced doors that have never needed replacement. Four cells with original iron bars hand-forged by the town's first blacksmith. The sheriff's quarters behind the office displayed a mannequin family eating endless beans. A reproduction wanted poster for "Black Bart" hung in every cell.

The cells work exactly as intended 140 years later - holding prisoners, quarantining the sick, securing the dangerous. The sheriff's quarters, after decades showing "Frontier Law Enforcement Life," house the actual security chief. The mannequin family is gone but the bean pot remains. Black Bart posters used for kindling.

Built 1962 by the U.S. Forest Service, 25 years before the theme park existed. 60-foot steel tower with enclosed cab, telephone line to Reno, and a log book dating to Kennedy's presidency. Decommissioned in 1994 when satellites replaced human spotters. The park kept it as a "viewpoint" and cell tower disguise.

Solar panels added 2011 for "green initiative" now power essential radio equipment. The height provides 15-mile visibility across open desert. Original fire-spotting maps help identify landmarks. The 1962 log book continues with new entries - less about fire, more about approaching threats. Manned 24/7 in shifts.

1883 Diebold vault - 6-inch steel walls, 3-ton door, combination lock that takes four people to open (by design). Shipped by rail from Cincinnati, installed by a team of eight specialists. Survived one robbery attempt in 1889 (unsuccessful), one fire in 1923 (contents intact), and decades of abandonment (mouse nest in corner).

Wells Fargo sponsored a museum in 2008, adding interactive displays about frontier banking. Now stores what can't be replaced: antibiotics, insulin, seed bank, ammunition. The four-person lock system prevents any single person from accessing critical supplies. The mouse nest was removed but mice return. Some things never change.

Original 1987 split-rail fencing for "authentic atmosphere," chain-link added in 1993 after insurance company visit. Motion sensors installed 2009 after someone stole the mechanical bull. Security cameras added 2015. The main gate - two massive wooden doors with "OBSIDIAN HILLS EST. 1879" - purely decorative until now.

Reinforced with everything available - shipping containers, overturned vehicles, sheet metal from the gift shop roof. The decorative wooden gates now barricaded with a school bus. 12-foot walls incorporate 30 years of park infrastructure. Motion sensors still work sporadically. The stolen mechanical bull was never found.

Built 1987 for frontier medicine demonstrations. Featured real 1880s surgical tools (behind glass), reproduction medicine bottles filled with colored water, and a twice-daily "snake oil salesman" show. The examination table was authentic, the skeleton was plastic, the leeches were rubber. Educational plaques explained "bloodletting" and "trepanning."

The authentic surgical tools are out from behind glass, sterilized and sharp. The colored water replaced with actual medicines, what little remains. The examination table sees real patients. The skeleton is still plastic but useful for teaching. Considering actual leeches for wound cleaning. Trepanning remains off the table.

Built 1987, painted red because "all frontier schools were red" (historically inaccurate but photogenic). Pot-belly stove that was never connected. McGuffey Readers from 1879. Slate boards and chalk because "authentic." Dunce cap in corner for photos. School groups endured 45-minute lessons in "frontier education" before lunch.

Now actually educates 22 children with those same McGuffey Readers - they're the only textbooks. The pot-belly stove connected and burning. Chalk and slate aren't quaint anymore, they're sustainable. The dunce cap was repurposed as a funnel. Real frontier education: reading, writing, arithmetic, survival.

Built 1987 behind false storefronts labeled "Sampson's Feed Store" and "Territorial Mining Supply." Expanded three times to hide more modern equipment. Contains 30 years of spare parts for everything - the mechanical bull motor, carousel horses, spare mannequin limbs, 47 boxes of "authentic" horseshoes never used.

The false fronts fooled no one then, protect everything now. Those 30 years of hoarded parts - every saved screw, spare wire, extra fitting - invaluable. The mechanical bull motor repurposed for water pump. Mannequin limbs burned for heat. The 47 boxes of horseshoes? Actually useful. Pack rats accidentally prepared perfectly.

Original 1881 shop with coal forge, leather bellows that still work, and three anvils of different sizes. The demonstration horseshoe rack displays 200 examples of "frontier craftsmanship." In 2015, added weekend classes for $75 to "forge your own souvenir horseshoe." Maintained a 2-ton coal supply because "authenticity matters."

That 2-ton coal supply matters differently now. The forge runs daily - tool repair, weapon modification, anything metal that breaks. The $75 horseshoe experience became critical skill training. Those 200 demonstration horseshoes? Melted down for raw material. The blacksmith's quarters behind the shop, once a mannequin tableau, houses the new smith.

Built 1987 using "traditional barn-raising techniques" (actually prefab with cosmetic timber). Houses six Belgian draft horses for stagecoach rides at $35/adult, $20/child. Two authentic 1880s stagecoaches restored by movie prop department. The hay loft stores a season's feed. Wheelwright shop for demonstrations, making exactly one wheel per summer for tourists.

Six horses survived - worth more than gold now. No fuel needed, eat desert scrub when hay runs out. Stagecoaches armored with salvaged metal for supply runs. That one demonstration wheel per summer? Now they make three per month, no tourists watching. The hay loft is emptying. The horses don't care about authenticity.

Built 1987 to demonstrate how silver ore was tested and valued. Real 1880s scales accurate to 0.01 grams. Authentic acid testing kit (behind plexiglass). Twice daily demonstrations of "finding gold in raw ore" using painted rocks. The assayer's apartment upstairs displayed a mannequin counting fake money forever.

The precision scales now measure medicine doses. That acid testing kit, out from behind plexiglass, used for water purification experiments. The painted rocks discarded, real chemistry happens here. Bullet-making, fuel refinement, anything requiring precise measurement. The mannequin's fake money kindled one cold night.

Built 1881 with hand-hewn pine timbers that still smell of resin. The mahogany bar was shipped around Cape Horn from Boston, installed by six men who carved their names underneath (still visible). The mirror behind the bar survived everything - mining boom, abandonment, tourist photos. Added craft cocktail menu in 2018: "Prospector's Old Fashioned" for $16.

The mahogany bar where miners drank after shifts now hosts survival planning. Those $16 cocktails replaced by rationed whiskey that costs decisions, not dollars. The mirror that reflected prosperity, decay, tourism, now reflects exhausted faces planning tomorrow. The carved names underneath joined by new ones. History repeating.

Built 1987 with 300 red velvet seats salvaged from a demolished Vegas theater. Gilded box seats for "VIP Wild West Experience" at $150/show. Digital projection added 2001 for "enhanced presentations." The stage trapdoor worked exactly once before being sealed for safety. Acoustic design so perfect a whisper carries from stage to back row.

Community meetings use that perfect acoustic design - no microphones needed. The projection booth converted to ham radio station, broadcasting to whoever's listening. Red velvet seats show wear but hold bodies planning survival. The sealed trapdoor unsealed - storage now. The $150 VIP experience is everyone getting through another day.

Built 1883 with white clapboard that's been repainted 12 times. Original bronze bell cast in San Francisco, weighs 400 pounds, rings on the hour (until complaints in 2003 limited it to noon and 6pm). The stained glass window depicts angels that look suspiciously like 1880s dance hall girls. Parsonage attached, displayed minister's "simple frontier life."

Sunday services resumed - all faiths, no denominations, just gathering. The bell rings for warnings now, not hours. Those dance hall angels in stained glass watch over prayers for survival. The parsonage, after 30 years as a museum display of "simple frontier life," houses someone living an actually simple frontier life.

Built 1987 with a spring-loaded dance floor that "bounces like the original" (no evidence originals bounced). 500 silver dollars embedded in the bar top under resin. Mirror ball added in 2013 for "Frontier Disco Nights" that never caught on. The player piano works but only knows six songs. Stage where can-can dancers performed twice daily, three times on weekends.

Saturday night dances continue - no can-can, just community. The spring floor still bounces, helps with the dancing and morale. Those 500 silver dollars under resin might be worth prying out someday. The mirror ball reflects lantern light now. The player piano's six songs memorized by everyone. Sometimes that's enough.

Added 1997 with working 1880s letterpress that prints 50 copies per hour. Demonstration newspapers sold for $3 as souvenirs: "YOUR NAME in Old West Headlines!" The editor's apartment upstairs displayed a mannequin perpetually typing the same story. Thousands of pounds of lead type, sorted alphabetically, most never used.

Weekly newsletter now - guard schedules, supply updates, births, deaths. That letterpress prints survival information, not souvenirs. The lead type letters running low on E, A, R, and D - the most commonly used. The mannequin journalist thrown out, real person documents their new dark age. History being written as it happens.

Original 1880s well goes down 200 feet to reliable aquifer. 1987 park added electric pumps hidden in "authentic" pump house. 10,000-gallon wooden water tower built for aesthetics, actually functional. Backup hand pump installed for demonstrations, tourists loved working it for exactly 30 seconds before giving up.

Electric pumps run four hours daily on solar power. That demonstration hand pump now critical backup - takes 20 minutes to fill a bucket, everyone takes turns. The wooden water tower they built for looks? Holds three days' supply. The tourists who gave up after 30 seconds never knew they were practicing for apocalypse.