Hope and disappointment in Disco Elysium (featuring centrist politics)
The freedom of the RPG, the authority of material reality.
Disco Elysium is for:
RPG lovers who accept the limitations of set player characters, and won't mind a linear main story.
Good writing enthusiasts.
Political animals. And pundits.
Depressed and hopeful socialists.
Advanced racists.
Disco Elysium is a bit like ideology. Sickly-sweet, tempting to consume in large bursts, somewhat disappointing after it’s been established.
DE is a promise of untapped possibility, perhaps RPG utopia. Just so, this adventure confuses complexity for choice, yet it may take it all away when least expected.
[Encyclopedia] Disco Elysium is also a game where the “hero” can sprint. Running with its existentialist bent, the game won't mention double-click may be used to sprint. Worse, you can simply press Caps Lock to enable sprint.
*
Like ideology, DE is prone to soft locking. We're giddy about our beliefs, ideas and ideologies. We think they may be easily put in practice, and how they'll achieve utopia, or shy of it. The system is established, we expect utopia to thrive, but society ends up in a soft lock.
It needs fiddling, with no guarantee for a smooth disco ride. We invest time in skills we don't believe in, yet the world and society avoid the perfection we dreamed of.
In Disco Elysium, I was giddy for the possibilities brought by so many skills and checks. But checks come with balances. DE is so adamant about them that it “forced” me to invest in skills I would happily ignore.
*
Sometimes, the investment paid off, though I was not giddy about it. Oftentimes, I would bypass a soft lock to bump into another. Idealist, pragmatist, moderate apologist - ride the political wave.
This attitude makes DE an ambitious, smart, well written ride. But also a piece of design in love with its own complexity. Thank Innocence it's this complexity which saves and makes the adventure worthwhile.
Complexity is Disco's - the game's and partially the music style - strength. I would combine some of its many skills into fewer ones with wider applications. Disco's ambition is commendable, but needs more focus.
Often, it'd make sense more than one skill should contribute to rate of success. DE isolates mental aspects too much. A large number of systems - our skills - is useful if used to support lateral gameplay, to enrich choice, not reduce it as DE often does.
The politics of politics
By choice, I tried to be a moderate. Disco Elysium offered a lesson in dissatisfaction - it wouldn't “let” me complete the political quest due to a failing skill check. An ideological flaw in game design, flirting with artificial difficulty.
My dialogue choices, however, decided I was a socialist, though nothing came of it. Alas, it was a label. Harry and I brought no revolution to Revachol.
Disco gives the impression of the political quests yielding major results. Ideology is no guarantee for utopia, regardless of opinion. I suspect the political quest would also end in dissatisfaction, as ideologies often do.
*
I tried to be a moderate out of pragmatism. Life-wise, extreme opinions alienate people, especially when you're a cop. Like all politics, centrism is derided - then again, it's the only compromise humans seem able to live comfortably with.
The disco detective may try to avoid politics, with various results. The giddy left-wing bent is mocked as the others - to a point where the game may seem cowardly for refusing to stand for its socialist proclivities.
For an RPG, even one with authorial intent, it’s the right call. DE is already lacking in some respects as an RPG - lack of protagonist choice, limited narrative branching, limited skill use.
Ironic how the same failed check kept me from bringing a disco club into existence. I was giddy about mixing disco and centrism, but the game would not relent.
Irony prevailed - I completed the story with unused skill points. A frustrating existential quirk, yet expected - choice paralysis is a common bump in RPGs.
A symbol of revolution
Disco Elysium’s existential stubbornness reigns its depressive setting. Humanity is doing its best to recover from a failed socialist revolution. Unions and corporations ram against each other, some people seem stuck in perpetual poverty, and cops, corrupt or not, try to keep order.
Some places make their own law. The game takes an expected but balanced stance to portraying its factions. Subtle favoritism persists, though the disco attitude is to be lenient if you find a shred of empathy regardless of ideology.
No surprise the “hero” is a cop - DE strives for moderation. Its authorial intent may begin with socialism, but the attitude remains moderate, choice-driven. Centrist. You’re a cop. You can be a fascist, communist, liberal or disco cop, but you have a crumb of choice for your politics. As the past shows, the choice may not count for much.
Harry is the cliche of the self-hating cop subjected to player choice. Kim, his partner, is the game’s first line of defense. His profile image makes him look like a saint and an interrogator - an empathetic cop.
Revacholians may not like cops - Kim doesn’t care, he likes Revachol. He’s reserved, pragmatical, empathetic above all. Harry struggles between ideology and existential dread. Kim does his job with focused professionalism guided by empathy.
*
Most characters begin with a familiar trope, enriched with details to make them complex, often conflictual. The perfect way to write so many people.
Joyce, the “ultra” neo-liberal lady is smart, driven, shy of ruthless. But also gentle, idealistic even. She is a caricature of her beliefs, as everyone else. She believes in a world of capital, markets directed by global entities.
Joyce remains one of the friendliest of Harry’s acquaintances because of her emotional intelligence. But she’s just one side of neoliberalism.
The other is the Sunday Friend, a mysterious mover of moralism and capital. The man is obsessed with cliched talking points on the importance of balanced economics, social order and employment. If let, he would monologue for hours on the essential role of globalist institutions.
Harry tries to educate himself by asking questions. Charles espouses the merits of global capital. Eventually, he offers Harry some attention, not before delivering the bullet points of organizing society like he’s repeated them endless times before.
Coalition Warship Archer is impersonal, a representative of global capital and Moralism. Not so much the entity itself, but its arm.
Conversing with CWA is stimulating. It holds the sweetness of intellectual debate, the pleasure of encyclopedic knowledge and the promise of a better future. But in its intellectualism, global Moralism may be detached from base material reality, where the poor and the working class may live.
*
Measurehead, the ultra-racist caricature, is interesting to listen to. I suspect his knowledge is memorized and repeated to impress, but devoid of substance. He may ramble for hours about racial differences, but likely because he’s otherwise empty.
Measurehead may not be as smart as he presents himself. His obsessions may be driven by trauma or ignorance, but his dedication to the cause of racism and stellar writing make him a fine curiosity, quality entertainment.
Evrart, the union leader, is smart, driven, opportunistic. I had difficulty grasping if he truly cares about his workers, but he plays his best act. Dealing with him is difficult - but a pushy union leader would not achieve much when the corporate mercenary steps in town.
When the deals are done, it’s impossible to like Evrart. He seems to fight equally for his people and to keep his own bottom warm. He tries to take advantage of Harry, mostly to his benefit. Evrart is a shepherd of the working class, with teeth.
The mega rich light-bending guy travels on the back - well, shipping containers - of the working class. He has difficulty communicating or relating to others. He won’t part with his money unless Harry pitches him with an investment proposal.
Harry sees the rich guy as bending light. The difference in net worth is so tremendous that laws of physics might not apply to the mega rich.
At first sight, the working class woman is just there. She’s poor, unassuming, casually browsing books without the energy to engage them at a deeper level. Her husband is missing.
Unsurprisingly, poverty and alcohol have found him. Not in a ditch, but close enough, dead for days without anyone seeming to care. Alone, with meager prospect for a better future, no working class consciousness to provide a community.
I’m disappointed how lack of class consciousness pervades Revachol, but only because it pervades humanity. Throughout the story, Harry finds advice about “doing it for the working class”. There’s no clear benefit for this, of course, except for the player’s moral satisfaction.
*
Harry is human. He meets people who often reflect his own loneliness and fear, seeming stuck in their past or the demon of poverty. Not everyone is so terribly alone, though.
The Hardie Boys may be a mob, but they’re a working gang watching out for each other, and presumably for Revachol.
The mercenaries which “trigger” Harry’s case are ruthless, but would take bullets for each other.
And behold, the cops. A motley band of professionals, vulgar, empathetic, even caring about Harry.
Riding on existentialism, little faith graces Elysium, but its people have found a sort of salvation in each other. They band together in violent or peaceful tribes, they fight the others. But many would rather die than abandon their community.
*
To the end, Disco Elysium may inspire sympathy and confusion.
The perpetrator of the crime we investigate is an old socialist revolutionary. He's avoided society for decades, caught in a past of purpose and community.
The man may be dealing with dementia. He is a relic, by choice, by hubris, or via idealism. He remembers the crimes part of the globalist regime has committed against his comrades.
This man fought and dreamed of a socialist revolution, and for what he perceived to be his peoples’ independence. Idealism, fervor, hubris, potential dementia and mass murder have haunted him for decades.
It’s easy to dismiss him as a decrepit murderer. But the story plays the right emotional strings, a fragile line between idealism and insanity to make him sympathetic. His comrades are gone, he has no love for global capital, so he’s refused integration into modern society.
Like everyone, he is a symbol. He fought for something, he refused to accept the order which killed his comrades, yet he stayed trapped in the past. He thought he’d bring an ounce of justice by shooting a corpo merc, yet nothing changes.
Global capital has won. Revachol is gliding between corporations, unions, cops and the working class, but at least it’s moving forward.
*
The elusive Phasmid may or may not exist. Harry may choose to believe in it or not, to motivate his investigation. If faith or curiosity win, Harry meets the Phasmid while dealing with the old revolutionary.
The old man never - or rarely - saw the Phasmid. He was trapped in his world of revolution, purpose and despair, blind to the magic around him. Harry finds this fragile magical creature through faith or curiosity.
The art of compromise
Less art, more inevitability and necessity.
Disco Elysium is a masterclass of compromise. To progress the main and side-stories, I found no choice but to improve skills I'd otherwise ignore. Especially since I wished some of them were combined for increased ideological and pragmatical efficiency.
But DE is unruly and uncompromising. If you wish to progress, you have a choice - the choice. Compromise and work on skills which don't sound attractive. The choice doesn't bode well for game design. An RPG should know better than to box the player into archetypes and skills.
*
To be fair, DE is part RPG, part Adventure, part harsh lesson in existential anxiety. The design philosophy makes its point: you may pass by understanding the importance of compromise. Its attitude to politics is balanced. Moderate, even. We can call this tame, but it’s the right... choice for an RPG-inspired romp.
I wish there’d be more time and opportunity to make politics matter, but the main story is mostly on-rails. A limit of RPG design, part of the game’s thematic attitude: facts happen without us.
We do our best to influence events, but we’ve no guarantee they’ll end to our satisfaction. We have to be disco about it: pick your skills, invest in your abilities, then let go and roll the dice.
Choice and utopia
A lingering feeling persists while playing and after completing the disco story - nostalgia and disappointment in knowing there is nothing else like DE. Well, apart from Planescape Torment.
Disco Elysium is pervaded by a sickly-sweet existentialism, not hopeful but intriguing; by the interplay of personal tragedy and ideological theater; by a drive for hope and the reminder that saving the world may be impossible.
More so, that saving the world may be a futile endeavor, at least when ignoring long-term consequences and applying brute force methods in the short term.
*
Like society, DE straddles the line between freedom and authority - it tries to offer as much freedom as possible. But its longing for socialism is a desire to achieve a more equal society, while admitting humans themselves make utopia difficult.
The freedom of the RPG, the authority of existentialism and material reality.
Another approach is possible though, more "gentle", attuned to player choice but not utopian.
Fallout New Vegas, for example - the factions and their interactions are mostly played seriously, without the Disco meta commentary. The game lets players deal with factions, see the results of their actions, listen to characters' opinions.
Both approaches work, thanks to stellar writing, a strong vision for what the games are, following said vision from beginning to end by maintaining naturalism.
More interesting, DE’s naturalism is built on surrealism, magic realism, and weird fiction. Some of its world makes sense, relative to ours, while many aspects exist as symbol and metaphor.
*
DE ends with an “inventory” of Harry’s attempt to right himself from alcoholism, and how he approached the case.
The “trial” is welcome as a measure of action and reaction, but the end is abrupt and unsatisfying compared to the running needed to solve the case.
In defense, the choice may be intentional. Disco makes its case for inevitability and authorial vision. No use arguing, except to hope its spiritual successor(s) will be better RPGs.
Hope without revolution
Disco Elysium’s status as modern classic is deserved. Like ideology, hyped and marketed, DE promised more than it delivers, in theory and practice. I want more of it, more of its eagerness to deal with politics, more interplay between its “skills”, more of its ambition.
When the revolution was undone, I was conflicted. DE is a work of art in love with its intellectualism. It commits the sin it accuses others of - endless theorizing and debate - and proposes nothing better in the end.
At the opposite, it's difficult to grasp DE's genius in one play. Its characters, world, and intent show complex facets revealed by investigating. DE bears the signs of trauma, namely the regret over failed revolutions: a genius of expression and intellect which solves nothing in the end.
Its lessons persist, though. Ambition, stellar writing, partial choice, the willingness to engage difficult topics - a lot to deconstruct and teach future RPGs.
I’m still somewhat giddy about Disco Elysium, but hope is now aimed at the future. I hope other games, spiritual successors or not, will learn from its triumphs and shortcomings. Disco Elysium may not have inspired a mainstream revolution, but it’s a step forward.
Disco Elysium gameplay lessons
Ambition.
RPGs must aspire to a plethora of systems - here, skills - for player freedom. Disco Elysium delights in its promise of freedom. It falters by not focusing on more applications for skills, but its alcohol pumping heart is in the right place.
Failure doesn’t have to hurt.
Some “failed” skill checks do not cause strong negative consequences. Sometimes they open options to yield experience, without Harry “winning” the argument.
Politics.
Yes, politics are attractive in games. Just follow the Disco attitude - give the protagonist choice. Deride politics and ideologies if you want, mock everyone equally or let the hero do it. But always give choice.
No needless combat.
An isometric RPG which refuses padding by needless combat scenes. More games should pay attention.
Surrealism.
DE’s world is a meld of magic realism and surrealism - which sometimes are the same. Not everything must have a clear explanation, though nothing in DE is accidental or left to inspiration alone.
The “easy” way to write magic realism and surrealism is to consider what every detail means. Everything in DE can be picked apart and deconstructed for meaning. Surrealism’s advantage stands in having complete freedom with setting, style and themes.
Every element must contribute to characterization. On the easy flipside, play with imagery and symbolism until your elements - as quirky as you want them - achieve characterization and a clear enough meaning.