I’m going to come and second what a lot of people are saying and say that I really don’t agree with the central point of this piece.
I do agree with this: Disco Elysium has problems with its irony. For me, a significant way this showed itself to me was that much of what I’ll call the game’s “political responses” (responses where the player is given a choice to express an ideology) are so extreme and on-the-nose that its hard to perceive the expressions of that as sincere. I do consider the game to be very much about self-loathing, and while I do not agree with the read that the constant self-criticism makes the game “less revolutionary”, I can see where that perspective comes from.
But I find it ironic that as the piece describes the failings of the game in its unwillingness to “be vulnerable”, it ends up making a convincing argument for the game using that to effect. Yes, the ending of this story shows something strange and kind of bleak: in Colin Spacetwink’s words, “It’s a beautiful ending, but on reflection, a deeply telling one. The game’s only moment of vulnerability comes from a bug. A bug that wasn’t supposed to exist.” But to me, that was precisely the point. Yes, it came from the mouth of something that shouldn’t have existed. This is because the characters, namely The Deserter, have been so profoundly hurt and delved so deeply into a cynical nihilism that revolution no longer seems possible. But The Deserter (quite literally) cannot comprehend how and why the future revolution will occur. For this essay not to talk about The Deserter is surprising, given that I think that arc is what clarifies the game’s message for me significantly. This moment is, for me, a massive rejection of cynicism, nihilism, and defeatism.
I’m finding myself reminded of the piece “The Failed Revolution of Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite” by Kelley Dong. It’s a well-written piece, and has some pointed criticisms, but it’s one that I ultimately disagree with. Just like this piece! It’s final paragraph reads (minor thematic spoilers):
Though the contextual explanation would be that capitalism subjugates young people into surrender, the move itself is an act of nihilist surrender that replaces conviction for widespread change with an individual “I feel bad.” Everyone moves on, we leave the theatre engaged and entertained but not implicated. Like Mr. Park says of Ki-taek, “even though [the film] always seems about to cross the line, [it] never does cross it.” Instead, Parasite sits right on the edge of resistance, hand-wringing over the notion that tomorrow will be no better. Oh bother, if only we could cross that line!
This part really frustrated me when I read it. To say, “Sure, this story makes its point, but why didn’t it end with a revolution?” is an incredibly… weak form of critique for me. @Karla explains a lot of why this bothers me up-thread quite eloquently (I may have chosen not to write all this had I seen how well they summed it up in their comment). As critique, it does not engage with the story on its own terms, but on whether or not it matches up with some form of narratological praxis. I’m not saying you have to like it, but to say, “therefore, it is, in fact, neoliberal/counter-revolutionary/etc.”, well… that really frustrates me.
I don’t think this piece is doing that. And I’m not sure Kelley Dong’s piece was, in its entirety, doing that either. But I have found myself more exhausted lately by the discourse of splitting hairs about whether or not this or that art is truly leftist, or if it’s secretly liberal propaganda. It can feel disingenuous. And for me? As a reader? It feels just as cynical as you’re trying to claim the art to be in the first place.