Small victories, and a Harry who at least knows who he is, if not how he wants to be in the world. That’s what the game provided for me. With an ending like that, and the experiences I had peppered in the middle, I feel like the right amount of melancholy and the exact dash of bleakness happened in Disco Elysium. I fumbled my way into Harry making peace with himself and the world around him, and it seemed like a win. But no matter how much I am enchanted with the form and the accomplishment, I can’t help but think about how little the racism against Lieutenant Kitsuragi or the knowing, joking evocation of race science ended up mattering. In the final calculus, it was something I had to sit through and sift through to get to an experience that had a soul to it. And I’m afraid that the only way it would have mattered is if I had committed to it and decided to be that nationalist, racist Harry DuBois. It would have only truly given flavor to the world if I wanted to pursue that particular flavor. And I’m unsure if I think that would have made the game more interesting, or better, or even worth engaging with. Contrary to its obvious intention, it seems like it would have only served to rob this vibrant world of nuance and power, reducing everything down to pre-existing categories and prejudices. Playing Harry as a self-justifying racist machine wouldn’t bring me any joy. The game would have meant less.