#martinaise

[worlds-end-discotheque]

This isn’t a fully finished thought-project yet so please bear with me but I’m pretty sure Cuno is the one paying the bills for the de Ruyter apartment.

Or at least he’s trying to.

When you go into Cuno’s apartment, the first thing you realize is the chain and the warning about the electricity. From what we know about how Cuno protects his shack (and the state of his inebriation-comatose father) we can safely assume that Cuno’s the one who chains the door closed whenever he leaves. Obviously, no one in Martinaise would want to leave their home open for any reason, but the apartments clearly have deadbolts installed in the doors— so the chain is an extra measure. Cuno can’t have anything being stolen, even taking the extra effort beyond confidence in his own intimidation to chain it up.

The apartment has two rooms: Uuno’s bedroom, and the living room. Uuno’s bedroom consists primarily of the bed, the clothes line, presumably a dresser or some end table-like surfaces. Plenty of room for his substances and shit.

The living room has the sofa, which is clearly covered in Cuno’s clothing and a makeshift sleeping setup. The risqué pinup on the wall is basically confirmation that this is Cuno’s “space,” not something that he and his dad alternate or share. The L-Couch is Cuno’s bed, bedroom, and dresser, effectively.

Which leads us to the tiny desk. The items on the desk are minimal, but crucial: Cuno’s speed with the straw, Cuno’s textbook and homework, a lamp, the stack of bills, and an open phone book.

We’ve established already that Cuno and his father do not share space. Cuno is already a territorial kid, established by his limited safe zones in his own home. He wouldn’t leave his damn homework out somewhere where his dad could access it; the fact that the homework exists means that beneath his attitude, Cuno clearly has a deep level of care for his schoolwork and at least a desire to complete it. With how terrified he is of his father, there’s no way in hell Cuno would leave his schoolwork out in a place that his father could damage it or get angry for it. Which essentially confirms that the desk is Cuno’s space only.

The speed has its little straw, making it convenient to sip on consistently while doing work at the desk. (I do this with my water tumbler.) especially if you’re at the desk for a long time. With the open phone book, it’s clear that Cuno is at least trying to find the numbers for the companies that the bills are coming from. It’s not just a pile of mail on the desk— he’s doing research into it. Gathering phone numbers to take outside to one of the payphones. The desk is organized, business-like, unlike anything Cuno is— except for how he deals.

Which leads me to my last bit. Cuno’s insistence on selling you shit. Obviously, the best way for this kid to maintain a steady supply for his own addiction is to be a dealer. However, for a 12-year-old boy with a substance addiction in the world of DE where there’s nothing else to do, that level of self-control is absurdly high. There’s a meticulousness to it that betrays a primary aspect of Cuno’s approach: business. Cuno isn’t doing it for popularity, for “cool” points, and if his focus was only his own addiction then he would likely just steal them, take it all for himself. He’s not supplying his dad, that’s for sure. On top of that, he’s got a side hustle selling clothing and other crap he picks up, enough to try and pitch it to Pigs— repeatedly. There’s a lot to buy off Cuno, and it’s the one thing he repeatedly brings up in dialogue options, aside from insults. He wants you to know he’s willing to do business. He needs the money. Because the bills are stacking up, his dad could die any minute, and now he’s got Cunoesse too. (It’s not confirmed if she stays in the apartment with him, and I’m inclined to think not, considering the chain, his fear of her too and the fact that she stands on the other side of the fence than him— there’s a special separation there. There’s also no trace of Cunoesse-noted belongings nor a second space to sleep indicated on the couch; shivers, empathy, none of the skills speak up when inside the apartment about anyone but Cuno and his dad. At the same time, this is again unconfirmed).

I lost what I was talking about here, but the point is. Cuno breaks my heart and I want to adopt and take care of him so badly. It’s one thing to be a delinquent kid, it’s another to be a 12-year-old delinquent kid trying to pay your own damn bills in Martinaise. Fuck, man. I love this kid so much. He breaks my heart.

As much as I yap about my old man yaoi, I think Cuno is my favorite character in DE. He’s just… I need to take care of him. God help me. I wanted to kill his dad so badly. Sigh.

Anyways. That was my thought project. Thought Cabinet just adopted Cunology.

[3rd-world-enby]

my favorite bois

this one is from my main account on instagram 👍

[mapping-elysium]

Postcards

Le Jardin '21

This laminated post card offers a glimpse across the river. A little more than a decade after the war, the eastern bank is already fully renovated. The hillsides are lush with gardens and residences, someone's parked a small beige airship by the fountain. This postcard will sell for a pretty penny.

Grand Couron '37

This postcard depicts an ill-advised residential area overlooking the Jamrock Quarter. 13-story buildings line the hillside like sarcophagi, an ominous fog already rising from behind. These are the last boom years -- in '39 the project fails catastrophically, leaving behind an opiate and hepatitis B infested slum.

Martinaise '98

A faded picture postcard from the end of the last century shows Martinaise as was before the Revolution. It's the height of summer, Rue de Saint-Ghislaine is teeming with parasol-wielding bourgeoisie and Wild Pines flags buttress the walkway. Nothing is written on the back.

Couron '33

This one has 'HELL' written on its back. It could not be further from the truth. It's the boom years, and Couron, the nicest district in Revachol West, is enjoying a sun drenched day. Tall and handsome buildings rise from the riverside: steel, iron and yellow limestone, with cloud shadows sliding on the facades.

Boogie Street '46

This crumpled up postcard depicts an open air market in Boogie Street ~5 years ago. A vendor smiles as dead roosters line his stalls -- hung by their feet from canopy. Red blood flows onto the muddy street, blurry shadows of people pass

[deathstardroid]

Crashing the stage

[opabinia-fan]

I'm working on making Martinaise in minecraft!! :3

so far i have completed the whirling in rags (including the secret passage!) and the first bit of the backyard. i am working on the frittte now :3

[catboycooter]

[stackofsnakes]

I want a game that uses Musikantenstadl Alps' same insanely well crafted narrative system and wonderful writing...

...but instead of a young witch solving the disappearance of her neighbor's cat, it's about some grungy, old guy trying to solve the murder of a hanged man in an economically depraved distric at the brink of class war. You could call it Funk Nirvana or something

[pvths]

i got commissioned to design a Disco Elysium skill based on BPD. Including are some skill dialogues using it. Enjoy!!

[darknessrides]

LONG LIVE REVACHOL! | Disco Elysium | Night Walk, Franz Wright // Wide Sargasso Sea, Jean Rhys // end of beginning, djo // The City In The Sea, Edgar Alla Poe

[en-garte-au-cafe]

uhh, hi, i'm here to apply for the cook position-- i heard you were hiring? i have no experience but i *do* have a winning personality and a pretty nice apron

This sounds suspiciously like something Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor Harrier du Bois would say. So no.

Unless you would like to submit a legitimate application and not just an anonymous text.

What is wrong with you all.

I genuinely need help or I’m going to lose this place. Good luck finding another RCM-friendly hostel, if this is Officer du Bois. And if it’s not… then please reconsider. Just. Please.

Neutrally,

— L. Garte, Manager

P.S. @lieutenant-hdb was this you? If so, is that one of Sylvie’s left behind aprons you stole? Please give it back.

P. P. S. — If you are looking to quit the RCM, Officer, we could discuss working something out. The Whirling is in a dire situation, business-wise. I would hate to see it go, especially after all you did. To protect it, I mean.

[modjolras]

Does anyone have any good disco elysium fics they’d recommend????

[worlds-end-discotheque]

the DE fandom is not ready for me to turn up circa 3 years late just to absolutely break and piece back together Kim Kitsuragi as a man and as a human capable of love and hurt. This is your premonition. I have writings in the works.

[boreal-sea]

I've been to Martinaise

I think one of the things that crawled inside me because of Disco Elysium is how real Martinaise felt. I've been there, you know? I've met those people. And the fact that the game is so small, that you spend all your time there, talking to all the people who live there, learning about their lives and the history of the town and everything that has happened...

I see Martinaise everywhere. I see it in war memorials. I see it in the corner grocery store where my parents live. I see it down by the shore. I know the people. I see the old men who hang out in the same park every day. I've met the racist lorry driver. I've stayed in the Whirling in Rags, felt the liminal space of its rooms.

Martinaise has blurred into my real life.

[mapping-elysium]

Map Wall: Map of Revachol

Revachol:

North Coast of La Caillou

“Shattered by the delta” of the Esperance

Series of river islands and distributaries

EAST REVACHOL

Le  Jardin

Stella Maris

Saint-Batiste (made up of suburbs, home of Saint-Batiste pharmaceutical company)

WEST REVACHOL

Couron

not Grand-Couron [district in jamrock] The Lower Middle Class (Possibly the district the GRIH/57th is in?)

Jamrock

Burnt out Quarter in the heart of jamrock

Faubourg

“Almost as bad” and much bigger than Jamrock 

Coal City

Poverty district

Martinaise

North of Jamrock Strip of coast next to the GRIH 1200m distance between bookstore and church

NOTES: Finding the factoid about the distance between the bookstore and the church is HUGE! It gives us more of a scale to the map. I need to track down the conversation sources but i still want to note that Couron and Grand-Couron are separate locations.

Map Wall - Several maps have been attached to a bulletin board hidden inside the alcove. They're held up by small pins. The board has come loose from one corner.

Map Wall - The maps look old and faded. Your eye catches a map of Insulinde, a map of Revachol, and a map of Martinaise.

You - Look at the map of Revachol.

Map Wall - The north coast of a verdant island is shattered by the delta of a river. It is the River Esperance. Countless bridges put the shards back together, connecting city blocks to river islands. *La Delta*, says a great, artificial heart in the centre, teeming with lifeforms and construction.

Map Wall - To the east, rolling hillsides: Le Jardin, Stella Maris, the suburbs of Saint-Batiste, swallowed up into the megacity. They sound *rich* to you. This is Revachol East.

You - And west of the river?

Map Wall - Couron. It's somewhere to live. Not bad. Then there's Jamrock -- it's *bad*. People shouldn't live there, but they do. Then Faubourg -- it's almost *as* bad and much larger. Then Coal City. It's the worst.

You - And Martinaise?

Map Wall - It's so small you can't even see it on the map. No... wait. There it is! North of Jamrock, the strip of coast next to the Greater Revachol Industrial Harbour. It looks downright despondent. It's almost Coal City, to be honest.

Shivers - No. Coal City is worse. A charred limb. Rain falls on its slick black streets. And then there's the Burnt-Out Quarter in the heart of Jamrock... is it cold in this bookstore, or is it just *you*?

Volition - No. This is somewhere to be. This is all you have, but it's still something. Streets and sodium lights. The sky, the world. You're still alive.

Inland Empire - You feel you're *just* west of Coal City. Somewhere above Jamrock and close to Coal City.

[deathstardroid]

Miss Oranje takes a drag.

[promblums]

I ended up, like I do, listening back through the Disco Elysium soundtrack on youtube late at night. I’d put on La Revacholiere to pick myself up a bit before heading to bed (I’ve gone on at length about how moving that scene is to me, and the music sells it so perfectly), and was idly scrolling through the comments, when a post with line from the game I’d forgotten blindsided me. “In honour of your will, lieutenant-yefreitor. That you kept from falling apart, in the face of sheer terror. Day after day. Second by second.“

And I just came the fuck apart.

It’s been a weird few days, politically. Unexpected wins for the fascists. Weird few weeks, really. Few months, years, decades, it feels like I’m struggling to get a breath sometimes. Like this was all supposed to let up, the xenophobia, the open violence, the grim ticking clock of a climate change that is already here, not to be prevented now but mitigated, wasn’t this supposed to stop? Eventually? Can’t you feel it?

And that’s, again, the small kindness of the game’s writing. For starting you as such a complete fuck-up, it commends you, both Harry and you, the person playing this game, for still getting up and putting on your shoes, and trying to do a little something even with all that existential weight on your shoulders.

As Harry, you don’t restore Revachol to its former glory. You don’t establish a socialist revolution. You don’t even save everybody in the shootout. But you help a little girl who’s cold. You hearten an old woman in a dark moment. You make a friend of patient man in round glasses who maybe doesn’t open up much. You don’t save everybody, but you save somebody.

And when you get shot, your body gives you a chance to die and just be done with it, and even knowing you’re coming back to a world of immense pain, you still say, “No, no thank you. I don’t think I’m quite done here.”

And that’s what I needed to hear. That in a world that can weigh an awful lot on you, it’s brave just to keep going.