Disco Elysium is defined by incredibly-written dialogue, an impressively thought-out universe, and a memorable cast both around Revachol and inside the player’s own head. Disco Elysium’s intelligence is immediately apparent; much of the game involves deep political theory (or at least beyond surface-level) and requires detailed socioeconomic understanding of real-world history to even keep up with the litany of terms being tossed around in casual conversation. The esoteric gibberish can tend to drag with some characters, but overall it’s broken up with hilarious situational humor from dialogue choices and whatever ludicrous idea Electrochemistry and friends have next. Failing a check of the game’s stat-dependent/dice-rolling RPG mechanics can lock you into a hard-to-watch display of complete and utter embarrassment, but it’s all part of the fun. Disco Elysium knows when to take itself seriously and when to cut loose and have some fun once in a while. The game’s depressing tones of loss and nihilism found me at a good time to hit hard when I first played it, but the reaction it gave me told me all I needed to know about the quality of this game.