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Incline Disco Elysium - The Final Cut - a hardboiled cop show isometric RPG
- Thread starter Zero Credibility
- Start date
Prime Junta
Guest
I'll tell you lot who haven't finished it this much: it's gonna suck for you at the end if you don't pay attention to what you're doing along the way.
(In fact it might still suck.)
(In fact it might still suck.)
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
AFAIK the tribunal and thus the unnecessary slaughter always happens before going to the island, but it looks like if you fucked up the investigation you won't be able to concretely establish the Deserter's guilt and thus fail to conclude the case. This can in turn lead to you getting kicked off the force at the end.
Prime Junta
Guest
Yeah I figured that much. Still it hurts, and I think I ought to have been able to do better in the tribunal -- seven dead, including the mercs. I also fumbled a Rhetorics roll with Ruby, that was hard. But I did an extremely thorough job on the Deserter -- motive (several actually), murder weapon, modus operandi, physical evidence from the scene, confession, another confession to whacking the previous negotiator, etc. -- my high mindfuck Psyche skills really paid off there, as well as doing a thorough job of everything earlier.
Jinn
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2007
- Messages
- 5,556
I've been playing with high Psyche/Motorics for my initial playthrough and have been very happy with how full it has felt so far. Has me very excited for my eventual Intelligent Reforming Warrior build replay.
you know what time it is
Arcane
While the game is not infallible, I enjoyed it thoroughly and it inspired me to pick up writing again:
The door opens with a whirl of fresh air rushing in, still a long way from home, are we?
The couple gets in, "Thank you" they say to the driver, almost in unison and smile to each other. In passing glance, in subtle gesture an idyllic picture of a youthful bliss begins to form... As they get seated, the door closes with a satisfying hiss and I avert my eyes, no need to pry.
Rain picks up in intensity, gains momentum, mirroring the movement of our bus, grey sky huffs with a playful indifference and conceals itself in a chaotic splatter of raindrops, in a coy, "Don't look at me I'm ugly" sort of way. A flash of a poorly hidden smile, a mischievous look through the fingers... "I see you" - I smile back at a rainy sky, it doesn't answer, but I know - it knows.
My mind wanders and I don't immediately notice the commotion on the back seat, raised voices, different tone. Facade begins to crack and crumble, sooner than I thought. It escalates quickly, almost surprisingly so. A meaningless fight breaks out - about an amount of money on their shared bank account, of all things. It had nothing to with having too little or too much, not about excessive spending or some sort, no. It was about a number. The number. They couldn't agree on how much they had and instead of picking up a phone and looking it up...
The whole becomes undone.
"Do you even know how to count, I'm telling you it should be 2000"
"Fool" - she lets out under her breath as they both get up, together, but apart. It's their stop, their cue before things get too ugly. It happened before and as they step outside - I know, it will happen again.
Rainwater flows after them, trying to cover the tracks, an obvious, feeble attempt to sweep it all under a wet rug. We both know it's not going to work, but there's a small solace in familiar routine. I get the keys out of my backpack, I won't need them for a while, still a few stops away from home, but I put them in my pocket anyway, so I can feel them poking at my thigh. Uncomfortable, yes - but beats being alone.
Not quite home yet, but almost there, just a few steps down a tight, slippery alleyway, cross the yard past the playground where swings are creaking gleefully in the wind. They are happy to see me and I respond in kind, running my fingers on a cold metal, the paint has chipped away in parts revealing small kisses of corrosion. Starting to show your age a bit, eh? I know the feeling.
Exchanging pleasantries is nice and all, but chilly rain has a way of reminding you that there is, in fact, a place and time for that. And it just passed. The image of a hot bath invades my mind and I hurry towards my apartment building. Almost there, home. The key jiggle in my pocket with shameless anticipation. And here it is, the door. No couples, no buses, no precarious alleyways and drab skies.
Just me and her. I enter.
Stale smell of the lobby knocks the metaphor down a few notches, gives me a healthy dose of reality and I welcome it. I run up the stairs like a kid again, staircases fly by in a blur, 6th floor or not - it doesn't matter, ... "Oh yes it does" my knees respond, but begrudgingly oblige, they wouldn't mind a good soak either.
I giddily rush inside my apartment, supposed final destination of my long and tired journey - unceremoniously brushed aside. Just like my soaked clothes - thrown onto a pile, I'll get to it later. First, let's draw a bath and get that kettle going. "I'm a simple man with a simple plan" - I sing to myself as I tread the rising water with my toes - it feels just right, so I jump over the rim, like I jumped over the fence many times before, to see if our neighbors apples taste as divine as everyone says and boy... do they.
An unsure smile creeps onto my face. What am I doing? I'm a 30 years old man. MAN. One of those words that come with a huge baggage of expectations. But no one is around to judge or care. So I submerge myself in steamy waters and the world around starts to melt away.
The cup of lemon tea, perched atop of a washing machine standing next to the tub - goes first. The ceiling lets me through, past the upstairs neighbors renovating their lobby yet again, in their continuous fight against entropy. Past the roof with antennae huddled together to shelter themselves from the downpour. Past every troubled cough, every worried step and every tear silently disappearing in the rain. I can see the city, a sleeping giant, rolling over from one side to the other, letting out deep sighs in-between. Its features blurred, softened by the rainfall. What does it dream of?
Of hope perhaps, but there's more. We need to get higher. The clouds part and let me through, it's quiet here, but I can feel the anticipation building, I know what's coming next.
Somewhere down below in a small apartment with a man sleeping in a tub, a forecast comes up on TV. And boisterous weatherman's voice declares: "Spring is finally here".
The couple gets in, "Thank you" they say to the driver, almost in unison and smile to each other. In passing glance, in subtle gesture an idyllic picture of a youthful bliss begins to form... As they get seated, the door closes with a satisfying hiss and I avert my eyes, no need to pry.
Rain picks up in intensity, gains momentum, mirroring the movement of our bus, grey sky huffs with a playful indifference and conceals itself in a chaotic splatter of raindrops, in a coy, "Don't look at me I'm ugly" sort of way. A flash of a poorly hidden smile, a mischievous look through the fingers... "I see you" - I smile back at a rainy sky, it doesn't answer, but I know - it knows.
My mind wanders and I don't immediately notice the commotion on the back seat, raised voices, different tone. Facade begins to crack and crumble, sooner than I thought. It escalates quickly, almost surprisingly so. A meaningless fight breaks out - about an amount of money on their shared bank account, of all things. It had nothing to with having too little or too much, not about excessive spending or some sort, no. It was about a number. The number. They couldn't agree on how much they had and instead of picking up a phone and looking it up...
The whole becomes undone.
"Do you even know how to count, I'm telling you it should be 2000"
"Fool" - she lets out under her breath as they both get up, together, but apart. It's their stop, their cue before things get too ugly. It happened before and as they step outside - I know, it will happen again.
Rainwater flows after them, trying to cover the tracks, an obvious, feeble attempt to sweep it all under a wet rug. We both know it's not going to work, but there's a small solace in familiar routine. I get the keys out of my backpack, I won't need them for a while, still a few stops away from home, but I put them in my pocket anyway, so I can feel them poking at my thigh. Uncomfortable, yes - but beats being alone.
Not quite home yet, but almost there, just a few steps down a tight, slippery alleyway, cross the yard past the playground where swings are creaking gleefully in the wind. They are happy to see me and I respond in kind, running my fingers on a cold metal, the paint has chipped away in parts revealing small kisses of corrosion. Starting to show your age a bit, eh? I know the feeling.
Exchanging pleasantries is nice and all, but chilly rain has a way of reminding you that there is, in fact, a place and time for that. And it just passed. The image of a hot bath invades my mind and I hurry towards my apartment building. Almost there, home. The key jiggle in my pocket with shameless anticipation. And here it is, the door. No couples, no buses, no precarious alleyways and drab skies.
Just me and her. I enter.
Stale smell of the lobby knocks the metaphor down a few notches, gives me a healthy dose of reality and I welcome it. I run up the stairs like a kid again, staircases fly by in a blur, 6th floor or not - it doesn't matter, ... "Oh yes it does" my knees respond, but begrudgingly oblige, they wouldn't mind a good soak either.
I giddily rush inside my apartment, supposed final destination of my long and tired journey - unceremoniously brushed aside. Just like my soaked clothes - thrown onto a pile, I'll get to it later. First, let's draw a bath and get that kettle going. "I'm a simple man with a simple plan" - I sing to myself as I tread the rising water with my toes - it feels just right, so I jump over the rim, like I jumped over the fence many times before, to see if our neighbors apples taste as divine as everyone says and boy... do they.
An unsure smile creeps onto my face. What am I doing? I'm a 30 years old man. MAN. One of those words that come with a huge baggage of expectations. But no one is around to judge or care. So I submerge myself in steamy waters and the world around starts to melt away.
The cup of lemon tea, perched atop of a washing machine standing next to the tub - goes first. The ceiling lets me through, past the upstairs neighbors renovating their lobby yet again, in their continuous fight against entropy. Past the roof with antennae huddled together to shelter themselves from the downpour. Past every troubled cough, every worried step and every tear silently disappearing in the rain. I can see the city, a sleeping giant, rolling over from one side to the other, letting out deep sighs in-between. Its features blurred, softened by the rainfall. What does it dream of?
Of hope perhaps, but there's more. We need to get higher. The clouds part and let me through, it's quiet here, but I can feel the anticipation building, I know what's coming next.
Somewhere down below in a small apartment with a man sleeping in a tub, a forecast comes up on TV. And boisterous weatherman's voice declares: "Spring is finally here".
Prime Junta
Guest
I went with Psy + Fys and my playthrough was superbly satisfying. Once I recover I'm going to try another run with Int + Mot.
But yeah you're probably right that Fys + Mot might be less satisfying.
IHaveHugeNick
Arcane
- Joined
- Apr 5, 2015
- Messages
- 1,870,558
My take is that Phys/Mot might be fine but absolutely not on the first run.
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
I did a 6 phys 4 mot 1 psych 1 int run and I cracked the case and LARPed like a motherfucker and got my redemption arc and everything. Eat my fucking asshole, please.
IHaveHugeNick
Arcane
- Joined
- Apr 5, 2015
- Messages
- 1,870,558
You can crack the cases all right. But if you enjoyed larping impossible dude produced by 1/1/6/4, you're not even a person, you're a testicle.
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
Prime Junta
Guest
What ... what is this, I... I like you now, IAmHugeDick
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
I have a feeling Prime Junta may be inebriated.
Jinn
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2007
- Messages
- 5,556
Seems appropriate.
Prime Junta
Guest
Only on love and Communism, baby
Luckmann
Arcane
Maybe they don't want to
Sell those hub caps or whatever. I feel like shit denying Kim his rad shit that he almost legally acquired and obviously wanted to use.
Terenty
Liturgist
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2018
- Messages
- 1,476
Well, there are other means to try out. But making it out like the game locks you from progressing is literally fake news
Can you go one day without mentioning the Church of Communism, Junta?
- Joined
- Jun 21, 2018
- Messages
- 4,270
I suppose it's technically possible to pawn the hubcaps and spend enough of the money on cool sunglasses and sneakers so that you still can't make rent.
Prime Junta
Guest
It’s a hard topic to avoid ITT. I’ll try to keep it somewhat contained though.
Lol you're as bad as a fucking Jehovah's Witness dude. Across all threads.
Prime Junta
Guest
Lol you're as bad as a fucking Jehovah's Witness dude. Across all threads.
Duly noted, I will take that into consideration.
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