Disco Elysium Part #42 - 7:30-8:23: Long Lonesome Road Home

Part 42: 7:30-8:23: Long Lonesome Road Home

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN: How’ve things been going for you out there? Helped anyone lately? Saved anyone lately? *Murdered* anyone lately?
RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] This bastard isn’t even listening to you!

LIMBIC SYSTEM: Hear that? He doesn’t even flinch. Ice-man doesn’t care about killing people. That’s *nothing* to him. Black water under the bridge. The thing he’s *really* scared of…

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN: Don’t tell him, sister. It’s too bad.

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN: …in hell and ancient sadness, brother. Ten thousand years later—in front of the video rental. There is a warm breath on your face again. Everything is *okay* again.

LIMBIC SYSTEM: Your eyelids flutter open for a moment. When you close them again, you sense the light of the room around you—you’re back. In two seconds the alarm will ring.

Chapter 42: 7:30-8:23: Long Lonesome Road Home

You may notice that there is now a small tab barely visible in the top-left corner of the screen whenever I leave a shot uncropped. In the many months in between me recording Day 4 and Day 5, ZA/UM added a few handy features that allow you to play the entire game using only your mouse without any loss of functionality. It’s neat, but you also can’t turn off that weird tab thing that shows you where the menu will pop out, so… welp!

ARIST: [Medium: Success] You walk past Kim, who offers his customary morning greeting. You walk past the washerwoman as well, despite the critical evidence you need to confront her about. No, you have something important to get to first…

ARIST: Siileng!? No! In case it wasn’t clear, the important thing you had to do was not window shop over at Siileng’s. Go fucking talk to Titus and get that old woman out of the cold, good grief.

ENDURANCE: [Medium: Success] This jakcet is the apex of human evolution—the moment at which man became weatherproof.
SHIVERS: [Medium: Success] Practical, and yet it may deaden your senses to the world around you. Possibly because of the awful typeface.

ARIST: [Medium: Success] Man, Siileng’s offerings are pretty… fucking awful, honestly.

ARIST: [Easy: Success] As you get closer to the Whirling, you notice Gaston sitting on a bench alone. He seems despondent.

GASTON MARTIN: “The prick is gone,” he replies, trying to smile. “I… I can barely believe it, but he’s really gone.”

GASTON MARTIN: His angry little heart finally gave out.” He sighs. “The dockworkers found him in the guard booth this morning. Wasn’t even supposed to be working for another week, but he just had to prove how tough he is…”
REACTION SPEED: [Medium: Success] Wait… did he push himself to prove he could pull his weight and doesn’t need hand-outs?
GASTON MARTIN: “Guess he was about to head home, ‘cause when the dockworkers found him he was wearing civilian clothes and not the cockatoo uniform I saw him in all the time. Sometimes I thought he was wearing it just to piss me off.” Gaston smiles a sad smile. “Now the joke’s on him, ‘cause he’s gonna be buried without it.”

GASTON MARTIN: “No,” he replies quickly. “René was the most stubborn man in Revachol. Nothing you or I could say would ever *push* him to do anything. The man was completely immovable.”

GASTON MARTIN: “I repeat—an *absolute* cunt.” He turns to look at the crater. “Even his old army buddies didn’t want him around. He was like an old viper. The only people who could stand to be around him were Jeannie and me…” He pauses. “She saw something in him when we were just kids, and…”

GASTON MARTIN: “We’ve hated each other our entire lives. So much in fact that…” He falls silent and looks at you, eyes filling up with tears.

GASTON MARTIN: He looks at you for a moment and then speaks quietly. “I took them for myself. Took them to remember that old cunt. Nobody knew him better than I did, and I want to remember that old cunt by something.”

KIM KITSURAGI: “Yes.” The lieutenant nods. “We are both very sorry for your loss.”
GASTON MARTIN: “It is what it is, part of life really,” he mumbles, only half-listening to you. “But to know someone for 79 years, then one day they’re just *gone*…”
EMPATHY: [Legendary: Success] Despite their differences these men played such a significant part in each other’s lives that now that one of them is gone, the other feels… just lost.

GASTON MARTIN: “There were many reasons, but mostly it was the communards. They called them ‘The Bells of Revolution’.” A sad smile passes his face. “I guess in the end the Insulindian Lillies were just another piece of the Old Insulinde the royalists had to surrender to the Mazovian insurgents. It doesn’t really matter anymore.”

ARIST: [Challenging: Success] What a depressing start to the day. Just… just go to Titus. What else do you want from me?

TITUS HARDIE: The big man laughs, nearly spitting out his beer. “What’s that, copper? You want us to help little old ladies now?”
KIM KITSURAGI: “You’re *local law enforcement* aren’t you?” The lieutenant looks Titus in the eye. “Helping troubled civilians should fall under your jurisdiction.”

TITUS HARDIE: He pushes up his cap. “God, poor lady. Don’t worry. We’ll handle this. I think she’s got some family in Couron or something… Bastards left her alone when she got sick, we’ve been getting complaints.”
EUGENE: “Hey,” Eugene interjects. “Wasn’t Evrart’s B Team looking for her the other day? They said something about her… I dunno, finding something?”
TITUS HARDIE: “Yeah, I think you’re right, Gene.” Titus gives him a beer salute and turns to you. “She have something of yours, pig?”

ARIST: [Medium: Success] Oh, *now* you stop telling people this shit. A little late, don’t you think?

TITUS HARDIE: “No? Well, whatever then, copper.” Titus chugs his beer down and wipes his mouth.
EUGENE: “No, they totally said what it was… What was it…” He’s still thinking it over in the corner. “Anyone remember?”
ALAIN: The tattooed man scratches his head with his knuckles. “I don’t remember, I was fuckin’ drunk.”

TITUS HARDIE: He takes off his cap and scratches his head. “Auntie LePlante, we always called her. Something LePlante?”

TITUS HARDIE: “Was? Like before? Just an old lady. Her kids moved away years ago. Never come to visit, never took her calls. She gets… out every now and then.” He swirls his beer. “She did right by lots of us when we were kids. Always was a little off, but still.”
RHETORIC: [Medium: Success] Us kids? That must have been ages ago. She was better then.

TITUS HARDIE: “Get wanting to be a cop, you mean? Well, she…” He furrows his brow in thought. “Shit, I don’t actually know. Anyone know why she started acting like a pig?”

ALAIN: The tattooed Mesque sinks into his seat, unsure how to respond. “Yeah… you should be.”

TITUS HARDIE: “Dunno,” Titus says, shrugging. “She lives by the water. Shit washes up all the time on the beach.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “Police paraphernalia doesn’t just wash up on the coast, people. It’s not like we dump it at night. She bought it, collected it.”

TITUS HARDIE: “No problemo, cop-man. We take care of our mentally ill in Martinaise. Ain’t that right, boys?”

ARIST: [Challenging: Success] And while you’re here, you should probably warn them that they’re turbofucked.

TITUS HARDIE: “Yeah?” He doesn’t seem worried. “By friends you mean his squadmates from Krenel?”
EUGENE: “Wouldn’t wanna beat up his grandma.” There’s snickering in the room. Some of the men put their beers down.

KIM KITSURAGI: “This is what happens if you take the law into your own hands. Other people start doing it too.”
GLEN: Let them come!” Blondie yells across the cafeteria. “The Hardie boys are right fucking here!”
TITUS HARDIE: “You heard the man—right here.” He points to the ground. “We’re armed, we got the whole district behind us and Glen… Glen is fucking *crazy*.”

EUGENE: “We’re not bees, we’re men. We’re socialists!”

TITUS HARDIE: “Pft!” A spray of beer. “So were the local gangs. The fuckin’ *Barmy Army* and the Madre scum. You’ve been out there. Seen any around?”
ALAIN: “Yeah? Where are they now, huh?” He points South. “Sent back to Madre in an airtight cargo crate.”
KIM KITSURAGI: “These people are trained military professionals. Special forces, as you said. They’re not a gang, or a *Barmy Army*.”

TITUS HARDIE: “I guess we’re gonna see, aren’t we?”

TITUS HARDIE: “Yeah, like you’ve been up against ceramic armour…” He takes a sip of beer to bide his time, then tries to get the last word in.

TITUS HARDIE: “No, they won’t.” He shakes his beer at you. “Get out of here with your negative energy.”
AUTHORITY: [Medium: Success] He really doesn’t like you ruffling their feathers like that—on what might be the eve of battle.
KIM KITSURAGI: “All he means is that the situation is serious.”

ARIST: [Medium: Success] You probably didn’t accomplish much by telling the Hardies about the mercenaries other than one-upping them—but it still felt kinda good. Maybe they’ll be on the defensive now if those mercs come calling, but you kind of doubt it. They’re still day-drinking, after all.

ARIST: [Medium: Success] Go talk to the “scab leader”.
LOGIC: [Challenging: Success] What, are you gonna ask him “what’s it like actually being a war criminal for hire?” This is a terrible idea and you know it.

SCAB LEADER: “Hell no. I’m just an honest scab. I won’t have talk like that around here, you understand?”

SCAB LEADER: “Fucking loincloth…” He stares you down mutely for a second.

SCAB LEADER: “Don’t think so,” he grunts, barely glancing at it.

KIM KITSURAGI: “Actually…” The lieutenant turns to you. “I think we should maybe even *get going* now?”

ARIST: [Challenging: Success] Well, that was a bust. But at least you still have a face to pout about it with. Why don’t you make up for it by talking with the Paledriver now that you know what the pale is?

KIM KITSURAGI: “Great.” The lieutenant concedes with a head shake. “He asked the Pines rep about the pale—and now he’s talking to everyone about it…”

KIM KITSURAGI: “*Exactly* what I didn’t want you to do…” He sighs and turns to the woman. “Ma’am, my partner wanted to know if you work in pale transport.”
PALEDRIVER: “No offence, but *your partner*…” She lights the cigarette, and a white and silver cloud of smoke disappears into her mouth. “…seems like a bit of an idiot.” She breathes out. The air tastes sweet.

PALEDRIVER: “The smell of liquor on Gabriel’s lips after the shoot. In the motor park. The roses on the day of Franconegro’s coronation. On the grand stairs of Raehl. The smoke from the fowling piece, when Dolores Dei was shot.”

PALEDRIVER: “Thought insertion? *Dithering*? The Graad-Katla Magistral?” She savours the lungful. “It’s more than dangerous—it’s *sad*. But… at first I had to make a living. Now… When you’ve it all go *away* like that, rolling off like the sea, and then come back to this…” She gestures at the square. The broken horse monument, the clanging of machines in the distance.

PALEDRIVER: “Nothing. Until it starts. When you’re deep enough—then, for me… it’s like autumn. Dark grey and orange, the orange of streetlights and the colour of trees in the electric light. It smells like autumn too. It smells terrible.”

PALEDRIVER: “No—the same one. A *roller*. They all are nowadays. Special wheels for connecting to the floor of the hold.” She points to the machines, clumped up like toys.

PALEDRIVER: “Yes.”

PALEDRIVER: “They say there is a point—one that *I* have not crossed—in the pale superdeep. If you stray too far off course on the U41-A, or in Lomonossov’s Land… where every step you take is one step further drom home, no matter the direction. It’s a point you cannot come back from. Your mind becomes so radiant with the past—there is a flip.” She flicks the ash from her cigarette. “Instead of writing, it erases memory. Nearing some kind of…” She shakes her head. “Indescribable *finale*.”

PALEDRIVER: “It’s a story us longhaulsmen tell—longhaulsmen, *xerife*, not *paledrivers*—way beyond the established pale that’s lit by radio frequencies. Where it goes silent.”

PALEDRIVER: “No one knows what’s at the *end…*” She takes the cigarette out of the cigarette holder and extinguishes it. “I’ve only glimpsed the beginning.”

PALEDRIVER: “*Hosiannna…* A sigh escapes her lips, then silence, as she stares within herself.
EMPATHY: [Easy: Success] There is nothing more to do now. She’s far away.
KIM KITSURAGI: “You’ve fried both your brains enough for today, detective.” He inspects her. No response.