notes from a person passing through

I’d been thinking about writing something about Disco Elysium for a while. Finding out my therapist knew the game intensified how I experienced it. It made the game’s weight feel more real. More seen, even. The game spoke in a language I recognized instantly. I didn’t have to learn it first. It was a language of inner voices, unfinished thoughts and flickers of intuition.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

On Inland Empire and Conceptualization

My boyfriend suggested the game to me, and he was right. He watched me play most of it but I happened to finish it alone. I think he understood that this game was going to hit somewhere personal. I connected with Inland Empire and Conceptualization gradually. Carefully. Like I was approaching something that already knew me, and I didn’t want to scare it off. These two felt like echoes.

Inland Empire let me move through the world based on feeling: pure instinct, suspicion, atmosphere. It didn’t demand evidence, it casually whispered, “Something’s off. Don’t trust it.” Granted, most of the time it was wrong yet I cherished it. Conceptualization worked differently. It took that primitive feeling and shaped it into something legible. Not always logical, but legible. It made everything more crafted, even failure. It’s the skill that sees a ruined moment and says, “This belongs in a museum.” Because it’s beautiful in the way broken things are beautiful when you actually look.

Disco Elysium welcomed falling apart. It treated failure as a doorway, not an end. I forgot how many times I failed negotiating with a child, putting on clothes, recognizing my own face… Each time, the story kept opening. A failed skill check wasn’t a punishment. It was another page of dialogue. Another voice. Another window into the self. The game treated emotion and instability as default states. Therefore, there wasn’t any “plot twists” even though it is technically a detective game. The voices in your head didn’t go away because they were you. They moved with you. Sometimes louder, sometimes soft. Always alive. This made space for the way I think: circular, intense, fragmented and always imaginative. I wasn’t rewarded for being rational like a detective would be.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

When the Interface Dissolves

There were the dream sequences also, where the interface dissolved and I wasn’t a detective anymore. Just subconscious, just memory. Whatever’s left when the woke self disappears only. They caught me off guard. My heart would race from recognition. Something about the way the Limbic System spoke felt too familiar. Blade-sharp and correct. “You’re just pretending that you’re asleep, even to yourself. While the world goes on without you.” I would freeze, like the game had caught me mid-performance. I felt like it knew how long I’d been faking my presence. I’d say that was harder to shake off than any failed skill check.

Disco Elysium didn’t ask me to get better. It invited me to stay close to what I feel, to move through the world like it might mean something, even when it doesn’t. Especially when it doesn’t.

That’s why Inland Empire and Conceptualization touched something in me. Because in this world I wasn’t too much, too sensitive, too abstract. I was just there. Finally. Somewhere I made sense.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ