Existentialism. A word with baggage, and about it. Philosophers have deployed it to cover many different things, but they’re all concerned with the baggage of being alive. The urgent dilemma of existence, as beings without apparent purpose. The concept fascinates me. It’s what I get up for in the morning.
Based on the opening minutes of detective RPG Disco Elysium, so does ZA/UM. It’s clear from the moment your ancient reptilian brain laments your return to consciousness. “The limbed and headed machine of pain and undignified suffering is firing up again”, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
“It wants to walk the desert. Hurting. Longing. Dancing to disco music.
Drugs are an important part of Disco Elysium, even if you choose not to take them. As the latest devblog from Robert Kurvitz over at Estonian indie studio ZA/UM points out, the full-sobriety challenge run is "favoured by our writers" and, "After all, there is no temptation without abstinence." Kurvitz then goes on to point out the many ways Disco Elysium has of tempting you.
Here's one: drugs make you better at things. Each of the four stats is connected to a drug, with amphetamines temporarily improving your motorics, for instance. That means it also improves every motorics skill and the maximum cap that skill can be raised to. An hour later the effect wears off, but if you took the opportunity to spend a point to boost a skill to the temporary maximum that point isn't lost. As Kurvitz says, "this started out as a bug, but we kept it because testers liked it."
Something I hadn't realized while playing is that though legal substances like booze and cigarettes are always visible in the world to tempt you, illegal substances are hidden until after you try some acquired another way (through dialogue, for instance). Stashes of speed and pyrholidon, Disco Elysium's made-up anti-radiation drug which improves your psyche stat, only become visible once you know what to look for.
If you're playing Disco Elysium already and aren't worried about some minor mechanical spoilers, like the effect of certain thoughts you can equip in your Thought Cabinet, this deep dive into drugs is worth a read. Kurvitz also notes that the brand names on substances have no effect because, "Just like in real life, brands do nothing."
Since drugs give mechanical bonuses (and also have substantial negative effects, to be fair) it's a wonder Disco Elysium made it past the Classifications Board here in Australia. A quick search of the Classification Database doesn't show it, perhaps because it hasn't been submitted for rating. Several members of the Board have been vocal about believing the rules they're obliged to follow are overdue for change, but without the cooperation of our lazy and conservative state governments it won't happen. In the meantime, I guess everybody is looking the other way—easy to do when a game is PC-exclusive and only available online.
People, I face a dilemma. (Great cars, them Dilemmas. – Ed)> This week Destiny 2 takes up an astonishing five out of ten spaces on the Charts. So what’s a professional games journalist of 20 years experience to do? Write ten octopus facts in less detail but with more jokes, or six more involved entries perhaps better celebrating our cephalopod friends? I’ve opted for the latter, and I hope you’ll endorse me in this decision rather than join the inevitable social media backlash.
Disco Elysium is an RPG where you're never alone. Not because your buddy cop Lt. Kitsuragi won't leave your side until 9pm each night—at which point you can pretend to go to bed, then sneak away to take drugs and steal the boots right off a corpse—but because from the first scene you've got a chorus of voices in your head.
Some of them are parts of your brain: The Ancient Reptilian Brain and the Limbic System are in constant conversation when you try to rest. But most of them are just whichever skills you've put the most points into. I had a decent score in Drama, which meant that I could sometimes tell when people were lying or telling the truth, but it manifested as the voice of a wanky Shakespearean actor. "Prithee, sire! I do believe he dares to speak mistruth!" That sort of thing. It also tried to convince me to lie about the serial number I'd found on a piece of evidence, because that would be more fun.
Meanwhile, the Authority skill barks with the voice of a military sergeant, saying I should interrogate everyone with force, while Physical Instrument is an inner football coach telling me to get into shape and Electrochemistry is a louche debauchee who thinks I should drink more and smoke cigarettes for "massive bonuses".
It's like carrying around a full party of BioWare companions. "You should drink that wine you found in the street," is definitely something Varric would say. I'm the player who chooses companions based more on their personalities than their stats, so Disco Elysium is perfect for me. It's never going to limit me to a party of three or six or whatever. There's always room for more voices in my head.
Some of the skills go beyond this role as individual NPCs and become entire populations. Putting points into Empathy means there's another layer in every conversation with actual people, letting me know what they're thinking and what their body language suggests. Encyclopedia on the other hand is a skill that recites trivia—massive deluges of it. If you are into "lore" this is the skill for you, but if worldbuilding bores you, it'll drive you nuts.
While Empathy lets me know what other people might be thinking, the Inland Empire skill gives interiority to objects. If you play Bloodlines as a Malkavian there's a great bit where you argue with a stop sign. In Disco Elysium, with enough points in Inland Empire you can talk to everything from a mailbox to your own necktie.
Esprit de Corps adds another chorus. This skill, which suggests what a proper cop would do in any given situation, gives insights into what other police are doing right now. These blue visions might be real or they might be imaginary. After radioing my precinct to explain how disastrously my investigation was going, Esprit de Corps chimed in to recite the conversation among my coworkers about what a fuck-up I was, a flash of cop fiction what was funny and bleak and one of the most impressive bits of writing in a game where every five minutes there's another contender for 'most impressive bit of writing'.
One more I can't skip is Shivers, a seemingly useless skill that represents your sense of the city of Revachol in which you live. Every now and then it narrates a vignette at you, colorful moments in the lives of people nearby. But then, after taking speed to increase my stats so I'd be better at dancing, I fell into a lucid dream in which I had a conversation with both my own spinal cord and the city itself. This is just the kind of thing that happens in Disco Elysium.
Giving skills and other aspects of who you are their own voices makes it a weird and wonderful Inner Monologue Simulator, in which the path toward truth is slicing yourself into aspects—entire hosts of devils and angels—and letting them interrogate you and each other. At one point I made my Rhetoric skill apologize for trying to get me to ask a question whose answer would be too painful to deal with.
The actual NPCs are great too, and I should give a shout-out to Kim Kitsuragi, the long-suffering cop who gets partnered with you and has to put up with your shit. He's one of those classic characters who reveals more facets as you get to know him. But where another RPG might give you a party of characters with dark secrets to uncover, in Disco Elysium you're the one with secrets and an army of mind people alternately trying to hide or reveal them.
It's exaggerated to suit your situation as one troubled individual, but there's truth to it. Maybe "everyone contains multitudes" seems like an obvious point to make, yet living for hours deep inside someone else's crowded head has made it concrete for me in a way I won't soon forget.
When looking for an anecdote to illustrate both the fascination and frustration inherent in Disco Elysium, you need to go no further than its opening minutes. Your character wakes up with a killer headache, no memory of his past life and no clothes on. If you're feeling adventurous, you can make a grab for your tie, swinging away on the fan in your room. Failing the first of many many checks results in you dying of a heart attack and makes it clear that this game means business. Because while at that point it may all be fun and games to start over with a character slightly less inclined to instantly croak, it's actually one of many instances in which your body, brain or the outside world are out to get you.
Disco Elysium is built on a rather simple core idea, a noir detective mystery using the conventions of a CRPG. Instead of slaying monsters in fantasy combat, you spend your time sleuthing through the ruined streets of Revachol. The chief attraction then, is how downright obsessed developer ZA/UM is with the roleplaying mechanics of pen and paper games. Here you can invest in a myriad of skills that represent your body, mental state, knowledge and social graces. To keep things interesting you can't simply max all of them out, so while there are ways to find help, it's likely you're always going to struggle in situations your character isn't cut out for.
It's a bold way to make sure players never feel like they're fully in control, and for a while it's fun to watch your character fumble through an otherwise serious murder investigation. However, the inherent possibility of failure makes it possible to lock yourself out of the experience entirely. I played for seven hours when I had my own version of the heart attack anecdote: through a combination of refusing tasks, failing checks that would lead to alternative avenues and having no further skill points to spend to reattempt said checks, I had nowhere to go. All that mystery, normally so welcome, led me to a crossroads I wasn't even aware I was on. Afterwards I became an obsessive saver and skill point hoarder. Disco Elysium had shown me the mechanical heart within, and I felt like I could no longer rely on having the dice fall where they may.
You don’t need your deals herald to tell you that wordy isometric RPG Disco Elysium is finally a thing you can buy, did you know that to celebrate the release of ZA/UM’s intriguing debut, GOG are giving away a free copy of Stygian Software’s equally word isometric RPG UnderRail with every purchase? I thought not. Hurry, though, as this deal won’t last for long. Read on for more details.