Disco Elysium

Disco Elysium is a narrative-driven RPG set in the gritty, fantastic realist world of Elysium, specifically the impoverished coastal district of Martinaise in the city of Revachol. Players assume the role of an amnesiac detective from the Revachol Citizens Militia who awakens in a trashed hostel room after a bender, tasked with investigating the murder of a security contractor hanging from a tree, which ties into a heated dockworkers’ strike against a powerful corporation; partnering with the steadfast Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi, the story unfolds through extensive dialogue trees, skill-based checks across attributes like Intellect, Psyche, Physique, and Motorics, and an internal monologue of manifesting skill voices, emphasizing role-playing, political intrigue, and personal redemption over traditional combat.

Disco Elysium: Review

Introduction

Imagine awakening in a dingy, derelict hostel room, clad only in your underwear, with the taste of regret and cheap booze lingering on your tongue. Your mind is a fractured mosaic—names, faces, and fragments of a life you once led dissolve into the ether like smoke from a forgotten cigarette. This disorienting plunge is the genesis of Disco Elysium, a 2019 role-playing game that doesn’t just immerse you in a story; it forces you to rebuild your protagonist’s shattered psyche piece by piece. Developed by the Estonian studio ZA/UM, Disco Elysium emerged as an indie triumph, earning universal acclaim and sweeping awards like Best Narrative, Best Independent Game, and Game of the Year at The Game Awards 2019. Its legacy endures as a beacon of narrative innovation in gaming, often hailed as one of the greatest RPGs ever made, rivaling classics like Planescape: Torment. At its core, this review argues that Disco Elysium transcends traditional RPG conventions by transforming failure, fragmentation, and ideological turmoil into profoundly interactive art, proving that video games can probe the human condition with the depth of a novel while demanding active participation from the player.

Development History & Context

Disco Elysium was born from the unlikeliest of origins: a drunken brainstorming session in Tallinn, Estonia, in 2005, where novelist Robert Kurvitz and his bandmates from Ultramelanhool conceived a sprawling, steampunk-inspired world during a late-night haze of Tiësto’s “Adagio for Strings.” This kernel evolved into a tabletop RPG setting reminiscent of Dungeons & Dragons, complete with intricate lore that Kurvitz explored in his 2013 novel Sacred and Terrible Air. The book flopped commercially, selling only about 1,000 copies and plunging Kurvitz into depression and alcoholism. Yet, this personal nadir sparked redemption. Encouraged by fellow Estonian author Kaur Kender—who had battled his own addictions—Kurvitz pivoted to video games, envisioning an isometric CRPG that blended ’70s cop drama with philosophical depth, inspired by Planescape: Torment and Baldur’s Gate.

In 2016, ZA/UM was founded as a collective of artists, writers, and musicians, including oil painter Aleksander Rostov for visuals and the British band Sea Power (formerly British Sea Power) for the soundtrack. The studio operated leanly, starting in a Tallinn squat before relocating parts of the team to London and Brighton for better resources. Funding came piecemeal: Kender’s investments, crowdfunding from friends and family, and later Estonian businessman Margus Linnamäe, who provided the bulk. With a modest team of around 35 in-house developers and 20 consultants by launch, ZA/UM bootstrapped using the Unity engine—a choice that allowed for the game’s painterly 2D art and complex dialogue trees without the bloat of AAA budgets.

The 2010s gaming landscape was ripe for this disruption. Isometric RPGs like Pillars of Eternity (2015) and Divinity: Original Sin 2 (2017) had revived the genre’s focus on choice-driven narratives, but Disco Elysium arrived amid a surge of indie innovation. The era’s technological constraints—Unity’s efficiency for small teams—enabled bold experimentation, free from the open-world sprawl of titles like The Witcher 3 (2015). ZA/UM’s vision was ambitious yet intimate: a single district in a vast world, emphasizing “microreactivity” over sprawling epics. Delays pushed the release from 2017 (under the working title No Truce with the Furies) to October 2019, but this allowed refinement of its core: a no-combat RPG where skills manifest as internal voices. Self-publishing via platforms like Steam bypassed traditional gatekeepers, mirroring the era’s indie boom (Hades, Celeste). Yet, post-launch turmoil—internal conflicts leading to the 2021 ousting of Kurvitz, Rostov, and others—underscored the fragility of such visions, spawning rival studios and spiritual successors.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

Disco Elysium‘s narrative is a labyrinthine detective yarn set in Revachol, a once-mighty city scarred by revolution and capitalist reconquest. You play Lieutenant Harrier “Harry” Du Bois, an amnesiac detective from the Revachol Citizens Militia (RCM), awakening in Martinaise—a derelict harbor district frozen in post-war decay. Three days prior, Harry arrived to investigate a lynched private security contractor, only to spiral into a bender that erased his memories. Partnered with the stoic Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi from rival Precinct 57, Harry navigates a web of union strikes, corporate intrigue, and personal demons to solve the murder.

Plot Overview

The central mystery revolves around the hanged man, revealed as Colonel Ellis “Lely” Kortenaer, a mercenary killed amid tensions between the dockworkers’ union (led by the manipulative Evrart Claire) and the Wild Pines Group. Leads spiral outward: interviewing Joyce Messier (a corporate liaison), uncovering Klaasje (a former spy entangled in the killing), and confronting the Hardie Boys (union vigilantes). Twists abound—Lely was shot mid-tryst, staged as a lynching by Ruby (a union ally) to protect Klaasje. The true shooter? Iosef Lilianovich Dros, a bitter ex-commissar whose sniper shot stemmed from ideological rage and jealousy. Subplots weave in: a pale device disrupting reality, political visions unlocked via the Thought Cabinet, and Harry’s nightmare confrontation with his own corpse under a disco ball, symbolizing existential futility.

The plot isn’t linear; choices branch into “Copotypes” (e.g., the “Hobocop” living on scraps) and ideologies (moralist, ultraliberal), tracked to reveal Harry’s evolution. Multiple endings hinge on resolving (or failing) the case: from arresting Dros to letting mercenaries ravage Martinaise. A psychic encounter with the Insulindian Phasmid—a cryptic, insectoid entity—ties into Elysium’s cosmology, implying the Pale (a reality-warping mist) stems from human self-reflection, eroding the world.

Characters and Dialogue

Harry is a triumph of fragmentation: an unreliable narrator haunted by 24 skills as internal voices. Inland Empire whispers surreal intuitions (“Sire, the hanged man sings!”), while Electrochemistry craves highs (“One more line, detective—salvation in powder form!”). Kim Kitsuragi anchors the chaos—deadpan, chain-smoking, and unflappably professional, he evolves from reluctant partner to potential ally, his patience tested by Harry’s antics (e.g., finger-guns or ideological rants). Supporting cast shines: Evrart’s bombastic corruption, Joyce’s weary pragmatism, and Cuno’s street-urchin cynicism (who may replace Kim if injured).

Dialogue is the game’s lifeblood—over a million words in The Final Cut, blending noir grit with absurdist humor. Conversations aren’t mere info-dumps; they’re debates where skills interject, creating layered exchanges. A simple interrogation might devolve into Harry’s Rhetoric arguing ethics while Savoir Faire suggests a dramatic flourish. Themes emerge organically: failure as growth (Harry’s amnesia forces reinvention), ideology’s absurdity (union vs. capital mirrors realpolitik), and memory’s fragility (Harry’s past fiancée’s abandonment shattered him). Émile Zola’s influence looms—poverty’s dehumanizing grind, as in Germinal—while Soviet sci-fi (Strugatsky brothers) adds speculative dread. The narrative critiques power: Revachol’s “Commune of the World” fell to coalitions, leaving Martinaise a microcosm of broken dreams. Yet, hope flickers—Kim’s quiet resilience, the Phasmid’s awe at Harry’s persistence—affirming that in dark times, even stars can reignite.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

Disco Elysium dismantles RPG tropes, eschewing combat for a dialogue-driven loop of exploration, skill checks, and introspection. Core gameplay unfolds in real-time but pauses during interactions: point-and-click to navigate Martinaise’s isometric map, highlighting objects/NPCs for clues or chats. Time advances via dialogues, unlocking events like union standoffs or personal crises.

Core Loops and Skill System

Progression orbits 24 skills across four attributes: Intellect (logic, encyclopedias), Psyche (empathy, authority), Physique (endurance, pain threshold), and Motorics (hand-eye coordination, reaction speed). Earn XP from tasks (e.g., interrogations, journaling clues) to level up and allocate points. Skills manifest as voices, offering advice or compulsions—high Inland Empire enables psychic visions but risks paranoia, while Electrochemistry resists drugs yet tempts addiction. Checks are dice-roll based: white (retryable) for minor hurdles, red (one-shot) for pivotal moments, modified by clothing (e.g., a tie boosts Rhetoric but hampers Savoir Faire).

The Thought Cabinet innovates progression: Unlock “Thoughts” via interactions (e.g., “Hobocop” from scavenging), internalize them over in-game hours for buffs/penalties (e.g., +street junk finds but -social composure). This Fallout-like trait system encourages balance—minmaxing risks skill dominance, turning your mind into a cacophony. UI is intuitive yet dense: a radial skill menu for quick checks, a journal for task-tracking, and a wardrobe for tactical outfits. Clothing affects skills subtly (fancy shoes boost Motorics but hinder stealth), adding emergent depth.

Combat and Flaws

No traditional combat—violence resolves via skills (e.g., Physique check to punch, or Rhetoric to de-escalate). This pacifist approach shines in tense standoffs, like the mercenary siege, where choices dictate outcomes (diplomacy saves lives; failure triggers firefights). Innovative? Utterly—failure isn’t punitive; a botched Empathy check might reveal a character’s vulnerability, advancing the plot. Flaws persist: pathfinding glitches (pre-Final Cut patches), inventory clutter, and steep text volume deter casual players. The Final Cut refines with voice acting (1.2M words) and Political Vision Quests, probing ideologies via branching paths. Replayability soars—30+ hours per run, with “Copotypes” varying wildly (brute vs. thinker).

World-Building, Art & Sound

Revachol’s Martinaise pulses with lived-in decay, a “fantastic realist” isola adrift in the Pale—a misty void where reality frays, traversable only by aerostatics. World-building layers history: six millennia of isolas, a fallen monarchy, and the ’51 Revolution’s echoes (communist utopia crushed by moralist-capitalist coalitions). Martinaise embodies this: bullet-riddled walls from naval bombardments, union graffiti clashing with corporate billboards, and Pale-exposed ruins whispering otherworldly dread. Exploration rewards curiosity—scour a trash heap for a philosophical tract, or eavesdrop on scabs’ mutterings to unlock Thoughts.

Art direction, led by Rostov, evokes oil paintings: impressionistic vistas in muted grays and rusts, with exaggerated figures (Harry’s disheveled form, Kim’s impeccable suit) channeling Rembrandt’s chiaroscuro and Jenny Saville’s fleshy realism. Animations are subtle—rippling water, swaying nooses—enhancing immersion without overwhelming the 2D scroll.

Sea Power’s soundtrack is hauntingly eclectic: melancholic synths (“Whirling-in-Rags, 8 AM”) underscore poverty, while reworked tracks like “The Insulindian Miracle” blend indie rock with existential jazz. Sound design amplifies atmosphere—distant horns from derelict ships, Harry’s labored breaths during checks—immersing players in a world that’s tactile yet intangible. These elements coalesce into a cohesive dread: Martinaise feels oppressively real, its beauty born from ruin, mirroring Harry’s psyche and inviting philosophical rumination.

Reception & Legacy

Upon its October 2019 PC launch, Disco Elysium exploded into acclaim, earning a 91/100 Metacritic score and topping lists from PC Gamer, Slant, USGamer, and Zero Punctuation as 2019’s best. Critics lauded its prose (GameSpot: “an investigation of ideas”) and innovation (IGN: “begs to be savored”), though some noted its verbosity (Eurogamer: “lack of focus”). Sales surpassed 5 million by 2025, with The Final Cut (2021) boosting console ports via full voice acting (Lenval Brown’s narration a standout) and new quests, though early PS4/PS5 bugs marred launches.

Reputation has only solidified: Time named it a 2010s top-10, and it’s studied academically for themes like historical materialism. Awards piled on—BAFTA’s Best Narrative/Music, GDC’s Best Debut/Story—affirming its artistry. Influence ripples: it inspired CRPGs like Baldur’s Gate 3 (deeper dialogues) and indies (Norco, Kentucky Route Zero echoes). Post-ZA/UM drama (2021 ousters, lawsuits) birthed spiritual successors: Longdue’s Hopetown, Dark Math’s Tangerine Antarctic, Summer Eternal’s unnamed RPG, and ZA/UM’s Zero Parades. A TV adaptation (dj2 Entertainment) and mobile port (2025) extend its reach. Industry-wide, it championed “video games as art,” proving small teams can rival AAA depth, though studio fallout warns of creative perils.

Conclusion

Disco Elysium is a masterclass in RPG reinvention, weaving amnesia-fueled detective work with biting satire on ideology, failure, and the self. Its narrative labyrinth, voice-driven skills, and evocative world-building create an experience as replayable as it is revelatory, flaws like bugs notwithstanding. From a D&D-fueled Estonian squat to global phenomenon, it endures as a definitive 21st-century milestone—proof that games can rival literature in probing the soul. Essential for RPG aficionados, it’s a definitive 10/10, etching Revachol’s shadows into video game history as a testament to human fragility and resilience.