I know that there is quite a wide number of possibilities for how Harry turns out in the week that follows his total collapse that leads to the start of the game, but I got so emotionally invested that I may have to miss out on that otherwise impressive amount of replay value because, well, the Harry I got to know for that week (which is far too little time to heal, really) is one that feels so so sympathetic and so real to me that it’d be hard to do it all over again with a different approach.
That’s a long way of saying the characterizations throughout the game were wonderful. The advice I received to go heavy on Inland Empire skill was very, very helpful, as was boosting Volition.
Meeting the rest of the precinct (what’s left of it anyway) had this amazing sense of discovery while also climbing back into what was a very eventful past. I had already pieced it together from all the stuff Harry threw in the dumpster, his case reports in particular, but meeting the people (especially people I had already met and didn’t know it!) was a masterstroke in storytelling.
I’ve known people that refuse to play or finish the game because it was so bleak and hopeless, that no matter what the player does, the Revolution was still doomed and isn’t coming back soon.
I think that’s bullshit. It’s a lot to ask for one person, or for that matter one crushed and economically besieged former communist experiment, to change that much in one week. Contrary to that prejudice, and with all of my established dislikes for grimdark/“prestige” stories taken into consideration, I walked away from Disco Elysium with a newfound sense of determination, resilience… even hope, for lack of a better word.
If you like story heavy adventure games, I really can’t think of a better one, and I was around for Planescape Torment when it had just came out.
It’s good. It’s Disco. :chefs-kiss:
It’s very strange, you can tell the writing for this game is all-timer level great because people can have wildly divergent interpretations of the game’s ultimate tone. It’s either one of the most depressing and defeatist games ever made, or one of the most optimistic and hopeful. And both interpretations are equally valid.
(I’m more in the optimism camp, for the record).
For me, the difference is what is done with the setting and the situation. Many of the characters feel relatable and sympathetic, and many of them really want to the world to be a better place but simply lack the means to do so, or have given up because of recurring defeats.
If it was just a shitty world with shitty people being shitty with a lack of catharsis with just an endless spectacle of cruelty, misery, and suffering, I’d talk about it differently, then GRRM fans would rage at me and call me mentally ill again. :agony-minion:
i did a similar pathetic wet meow meow high inland empire playthrough my first time and felt the same way, that i couldn’t play it again because i got so attatched to my harry and just couldn’t imagine him any other way.
The way i got around that was just making the most different not-harry guy i could. i went straight fucking fash. no psyche full physical. Shivers spoke to me literally one (1) time last playthrough and now its everywhere. Half light is always screaming at me and i’ve already punched a child. Allow yourself to take the shitpost options and piss off kim and go down the avenues that your harry never allowed you to explore.
Spoilers: I think the game is instructive in its bleakness. Yes the revolution failed but the world is still populated with people who keep on living. Fetishizing the old revolution and giving into the legitimate hopelessness will not save you or anyone else… that is to say, you love your ex something the way the guy on the island loves his revolution. Neither of you can bring it back, only destroy yourselves. But Harry can manage to make a new lifelong friend Kim, help the people of Martinaise in small ways, and discover something totally new and wonderful. The world may end but you still get to decide how you live in the ashes and there are still enriching experiences and relationships to discover.
I don’t think a game where you restart the revolution would be more uplifting because when you turn the game off it isn’t true. What the game actually is means something to me about our present reality.
